Understanding

I don't really think that understanding life and people is a possibility. I say this because the older I get, and the more I ostensibly understand, the more I realize I will never really understand much of anything. Humans are a puzzle. Existence is a big mystery.

One of the few things I have come close to understanding is that life seems to be mostly about balance-- striking a balance in almost every situation, staying true to your vision and at the same time being open to compromise. As my yoga teacher told me, everything in moderation, nothing in excess.

However, a problem I often encounter is one of empathy: I can almost always see a situation from each point of view. Though this is in many respects a strength, it becomes a problem when I am tasked to make a decision. Each party has a point. One party will be the winner while the other party will lose. In this case, balance is almost a crippling attribute-- just as I comprehend the sweetness of victory, I am struck down by the bitterness of failure.

I am understanding Buddhist philosophy more these days as being less spiritual/esoteric and more physical/practical. Getting worked up about things, desires, expectations and grievances, is hard on a body. Detachment is more health-friendly. During the last week of MUCH ADO rehearsals, I had heart pangs several evenings, and one evening I even felt numbness in my fingers and shooting pains down my left arm and shortness of breath. Everyone must have been wondering why, in the midst of all that chaos, I was yawning... the body's attempt to get oxygen, to slow me down, to detach.

This week I started classes at St Luke's, where I am teaching 3 times a week. I was quietly excited about our first class and had a great lesson plan prepared. Imagine my surprise when there was an all-school assembly during the hour that was supposed to be my first class, an assembly no one had bothered to tell me about. I sat there dejected, puzzled, waiting for my class to show up. It was fortunate that three seventh-grade girls did come to my class, either rejecting or, like me, not knowing about the assembly, and we had a great mini-class together. Today I'll have my second class, and though I shirk expectation of all kind (yeah, right!), I do look forward to a larger attendance. But really, there are only 13 kids in the class, so 3 is not that far off.

and on the other hand, "Pitch-Perfect!"

Argh. I mean, ahhh.

Crrrrrrrrrritic!

ugh.

Ongoing

Opening night of our play was good. We had two reviewers there. We'll see what they say next week. One of them will be incisive and will actually have something to say, I hope. The other one will use phrases like "hits just the right note" and "does a jaunty turn as..."

I am attempting to get my clothes back from the movie people. I had left some of my clothes with the costumer, thinking I would be in the movie. They have been unprofessionally non-communicative with me about this. What a massive and ongoing disappointment. Not that I'm invested emotionally anymore. I just want my jeans and shoes back. (If this behavior is any indication of how L.A. works, then I thank my lucky stars I never moved there. In fact, I read a great interview with Bill Murray, one of my favorite actors, where he said he would never live in L.A. again. He said all they're out for is fresh blood, that's it.)

I have been offered three directing jobs that I am unsure about. One is to direct The Arabian Nights at a well-reputed theatre in town. It would probably be wise to take this job, because their client base is maybe a little different and would get my name out more, and also the guy who runs the theatre seems to be a real pro. The second job is the third installment of the 40's film noir trilogy; I directed the previous two, so I feel sort of obligated to take this job. The people are sweet and fun, the atmosphere is unprofessional and I don't get paid. You can sense my ambivalence. The third job is directing Corpus Christi (the Terrence McNally play which poses Jesus as a gay man) for the best-funded and most poorly run theatre in town. This job would pay, but I'm not crazy about the play, and I don't like working in that theatre (dangerous wires, rats, dank spaces, crowded dressing rooms, etc.). I do however have a soft spot for the artistic director, who has always been good and kind to me in the past.

I need to finalize all these decisions in the next couple of weeks.

It is nice to be wanted, and I appreciate my own ability to see situations from all points of view, but that doesn't make decision-making very easy.

Man is a giddy thing.

Our Much Ado About Nothing opens tonight. On Sunday we had our tech day from 3:30 to 10 pm. Our Don Pedro, a good actor who for whatever reason wasn't able to learn his lines (Dyslexia? Mental block? Self-sabotage? Substance issues? Plain old laziness?), was fired when he showed up to tech day 1.5 hours late. We were able to re-cast his role from someone else in the play, and that actor's role was in turn taken by someone else in the play, and that actor's role was in turn taken by our stage manager. Though it was horrible to fire him, he seemed to expect it, and the play seemed to begin breathing better when he left (like the day I rearranged the furniture in my room). The play is pretty to watch and with such good actors. I am proud of it. I have that weird feeling of "glad it's opening" mixed with "not sure I want to let go yet."

I have been going to teacher inservices all week, some at St Luke's and some at St Mary's Hall. That has been OK, at times bad, reminding me of why I quit teaching, at times good, inspiring me with new ideas.

Two of my favorite things are the worst things I could possibly consume: coffee and cigarettes. It's not that this is news; it's just that it's the first time I've begun to feel the detrimental effects. Blet.

Here, apparently, is the actor that replaced me in the movie I was cast in. Which is pretty funny. Heh.

In Mid-Leap

I'm doing better. It wasn't long before I began to detect the irony, frivolity, and drunken randomness of God.

Turning my attention to Much Ado About Nothing, the play I'm directing:

One of my actors doesn't know his lines (he has a big part, Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon);

Our violist is gaining confidence each day;

Piece by piece;

I will end this with a semi-colon, because that seems to sum up the current state of things;

Sometimes all you can say is, What The FUCK

I don't want to write right now, but I feel that I should.

Right now I am:

Sad

Confused

Disappointed

Dejected

Enraged

For about a week now, I have been trying to contact someone from the film I was cast in, to get information about when and where my scenes would be shot. In the meantime I have been working on my scenes diligently. They're all memorized, messed with, adapted, personalized. I feel close to this guy.

I have been building my hopes on the assurance that I set a goal and met it.

I just talked to a producer of the movie (I had to track him down), who told me I had been replaced, about a week ago. According to the producer, a "big-name" actor who had been offered the role a while back became available, so they decided to use him instead.

No one called to tell me this.

I have so many questions, so many insecurities cropping up. But mostly, I feel like a chunk of my heart has been torn out.

I know that in the future this will seem like a minor event, and I will see how everything fits together for the best, but right now I am devastated and hurt. And I don't know if this helped, to write about it. What I'm really feeling is kind of ineffable.

Was I too eager?

Too elated?

Did I not read well at the table read?

That one producer didn't like me, I could tell.

FUCK YOU for making me ask these questions, you fucking god damned whores.

That's all for now.