For the past week or so, I've kind of felt like I've been walking around without my pants on. While that HAS been accurate on some occasions, the rest of the time it feels a little awkward and breezy. I've been here for a measley couple of weeks, but a lot has changed in that time. Getting used to it proves to be all sorts of strange and interesting. In addition, as mentioned before, coming face to face with the most difficult role I've ever had is proving to tell me loads about myself. It's all interesting and it's all 'class'.
For instance--and this seems especially true for Shakespeare--I get terribly wrapped up in trying to be The Good Actor. If not, The Perfect Actor. That, by the way, has NOTHING to do with actually performing well. It's kind of an overcompensating defense mechanism I think I've incorporated into other aspects of my life. It avoids tension and it avoids mess. "Everyone look how GOOD I am. I DO belong here! Right? RIGHT?" is what it seems to say. I hate looking like I don't know what I'm doing, so I don't acknowledge the fact that I'm a beginner. We all are.
I can't quite say what I'm so terrified of. Embarrassed of. Ashamed of. Maybe I'm not fully committed to my strangeness? The larger my world becomes, the more my insecurities want me to hide behind a 'persona'...and the longer I do that, the less centered and present I feel. I know what the culmination of that is like, too. I get paralyzed, physically exhausted, mentally blocked, creatively stifled, and completely fearful. The worst part is that's easy for me to do. I've make-believed that the center of my universe is the rest of the universe. That's somehow served me well.
It also lets me be completely reactive to every situation I come across. Proactive solution? Hell no! Leave that to people with bad skin (ahyuck.)
I'm just tired of it. Of my own crap.
This may seem like something that shouldn't require a thought process, much less a constant concerted effort to maintain. Well for me it does. I'm learning to be okay with that.
Love you all, lovelies!
Dak
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Rehearsals, Shame, and Bleach
Day two of official rehearsals, and I am wildly in love with the cast. They are all fantastic, goofy people who I am honored to be in the same room with. Not only that, the director is one of the most confident, supportive directors I have ever worked with. More than willing to shake the Etch-a-Sketch and add new ingredients to the performance pot (broooo try some of this PERFORMANCE POT) he fosters an environment of fun work. We're all completely in it together and no cogs are out of place.
Which makes me feel like I can only ride my usual insecurities for so long.
I suppose being annoyed with myself for feeling that way is just extra energy in the wrong direction. I've got a lotta' guilt. Where its from, I don't know...but I know it developed a long time ago. Yeah, the Dad thing certainly was a part of it--and maybe I don't lend it enough credence. Perhaps its time to acknowledge that I've got a touch of post-traumatic somethin' somethin'. At the same time, I feel guilty even saying that. I didn't step on a landmine and lose my lower torso. I didn't get shrapnel to the brain and lose my ability to speak. I didn't get dusted with Agent Orange to inevitably lose decades of my life. I wasn't even privy to it. I guess all of that makes it difficult to hold those feelings of unworthiness up to the mirror of context. It's normal that I feel this way cuz' I lived in fear for almost a year. Adding guilt to the equation creates a powerfully insidious machine of self-sabotage. One I've kept in working order for as long as I can remember. It's the reason I all but gave up on school halfway through each year. The reason I made myself fear failure. The reason I--despite having a generally positive disposition--have the greatest difficulty with 'hope'. Coming face to face with my limits as an artist tends to lead me back to this stuff.
It's all interesting. And yet--I'm so completely done with it.
New paragraph.
I don't leap into cultural phenomenons. I'm very reluctant about them. Maybe cuz like...y'know...some of them don't turn out that well. This means I routinely show up late to the party. I seldom buy current-gen technology, and I don't start watching good TV shows until I've been told about them by no less than 97 people.
SOME stuff, however, I avoid outright.
I was late to the BLEACH party. For those of you with social lives and significant others, Bleach is a Japanese comic, one that falls under the 'Shonen' category. That basically means it's geared toward teen males--and is chock full of ridiculous battles and references to boobs. Still, it's incredibly popular. As in...they've made musical adaptations of it. Four of them.
Dude.
Bro.
Brosef.
So far it doesn't grab me. Maybe if I was seventeen again, I'd really dig it. As of now, I can't really stand the giant sword-wielding protagonist and his always-angry face. 'Fraid my notion of 'cool' includes 'being three-dimensional'.
But hey, maybe there'll be a turn-around. So far I'm not holding my breath. I can only abide so much cringe-worthy anime bullshit. On the serious...if one more character talks about the air headed love interest's hyuuuge tiiits, I might have to stop reading. Not that I don't enjoy me some SCHWEET BEWB ACTION, but I don't particularly care how enamored the author is with the characters he's created. Or rather...I don't really care to know how much the author may want to get all up ons the characters he's drawn. Maybe he does! That's cool! Does it belong in the narrative? That's up for debate. My vote is 'nay'.
Maybe it's cuz I'm an ass man.
Be well, stinky kids.
Love,
Dak
P.S. The rapture is tonight. Glad I built that underground bunker out of empty lunchables boxes.
Which makes me feel like I can only ride my usual insecurities for so long.
I suppose being annoyed with myself for feeling that way is just extra energy in the wrong direction. I've got a lotta' guilt. Where its from, I don't know...but I know it developed a long time ago. Yeah, the Dad thing certainly was a part of it--and maybe I don't lend it enough credence. Perhaps its time to acknowledge that I've got a touch of post-traumatic somethin' somethin'. At the same time, I feel guilty even saying that. I didn't step on a landmine and lose my lower torso. I didn't get shrapnel to the brain and lose my ability to speak. I didn't get dusted with Agent Orange to inevitably lose decades of my life. I wasn't even privy to it. I guess all of that makes it difficult to hold those feelings of unworthiness up to the mirror of context. It's normal that I feel this way cuz' I lived in fear for almost a year. Adding guilt to the equation creates a powerfully insidious machine of self-sabotage. One I've kept in working order for as long as I can remember. It's the reason I all but gave up on school halfway through each year. The reason I made myself fear failure. The reason I--despite having a generally positive disposition--have the greatest difficulty with 'hope'. Coming face to face with my limits as an artist tends to lead me back to this stuff.
It's all interesting. And yet--I'm so completely done with it.
New paragraph.
I don't leap into cultural phenomenons. I'm very reluctant about them. Maybe cuz like...y'know...some of them don't turn out that well. This means I routinely show up late to the party. I seldom buy current-gen technology, and I don't start watching good TV shows until I've been told about them by no less than 97 people.
SOME stuff, however, I avoid outright.
I was late to the BLEACH party. For those of you with social lives and significant others, Bleach is a Japanese comic, one that falls under the 'Shonen' category. That basically means it's geared toward teen males--and is chock full of ridiculous battles and references to boobs. Still, it's incredibly popular. As in...they've made musical adaptations of it. Four of them.
Dude.
Bro.
Brosef.
So far it doesn't grab me. Maybe if I was seventeen again, I'd really dig it. As of now, I can't really stand the giant sword-wielding protagonist and his always-angry face. 'Fraid my notion of 'cool' includes 'being three-dimensional'.
But hey, maybe there'll be a turn-around. So far I'm not holding my breath. I can only abide so much cringe-worthy anime bullshit. On the serious...if one more character talks about the air headed love interest's hyuuuge tiiits, I might have to stop reading. Not that I don't enjoy me some SCHWEET BEWB ACTION, but I don't particularly care how enamored the author is with the characters he's created. Or rather...I don't really care to know how much the author may want to get all up ons the characters he's drawn. Maybe he does! That's cool! Does it belong in the narrative? That's up for debate. My vote is 'nay'.
Maybe it's cuz I'm an ass man.
Be well, stinky kids.
Love,
Dak
P.S. The rapture is tonight. Glad I built that underground bunker out of empty lunchables boxes.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Half marshmallows, half cereal.
Things seem to be convening in a very interesting way right now. That is to say, it feels like the dominoes are all lined up, just waiting for the right tap. Innuendo? IS IT EVER NOT?
I've had a single one-on-one rehearsal thus far, and I'm already in love with the shape of this piece. It will be plenty difficult, but I made the uncomfortable realization that I'll be sort of playing myself as a teenager. In SOME respects of course. I mean...there ARE differences.
I never used the word "vouchsafe" for instance.
Well there was that one time...
On top of that, things just feel right with all of my friends here right now as well. That's not to say anything of my L.A. buddies, it just feels as though I'm on a continuation of my prior path. I even found myself alone in a rehearsal room yesterday evening, running lines until I felt decently solid on them. On top of that, I'm wanting to put together a weekly theater fun-time super day where we bring in training exercises and fun stuff to do and just EFF AROUND. I've missed my effing...around..
In all other realms, things are great. There's too much momentum now to stop or to choke. That's incredibly promising. It's wonderful. It just feels like things are flying again.
N...now to go buy groceries...
Love,
Dak
I've had a single one-on-one rehearsal thus far, and I'm already in love with the shape of this piece. It will be plenty difficult, but I made the uncomfortable realization that I'll be sort of playing myself as a teenager. In SOME respects of course. I mean...there ARE differences.
I never used the word "vouchsafe" for instance.
Well there was that one time...
On top of that, things just feel right with all of my friends here right now as well. That's not to say anything of my L.A. buddies, it just feels as though I'm on a continuation of my prior path. I even found myself alone in a rehearsal room yesterday evening, running lines until I felt decently solid on them. On top of that, I'm wanting to put together a weekly theater fun-time super day where we bring in training exercises and fun stuff to do and just EFF AROUND. I've missed my effing...around..
In all other realms, things are great. There's too much momentum now to stop or to choke. That's incredibly promising. It's wonderful. It just feels like things are flying again.
N...now to go buy groceries...
Love,
Dak
Monday, May 9, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
UPDATE.
Okay...
Okay...
So yes, I'm sorry. I don't have a decent excuse for the extreme lull this time. Not like that Jaguar attack...and yes, I capitalized Jaguar.
THAT CAR NEARLY BIT MY ARM OFF.
No but fo reels, I've just been in Idaho--doing the tour thang. Twelfth Night went splendidly! Those are pictures of said production. Yes, I am playing Orsino and Sir Andrew. Yes, that wig did smell horrid after a show, and yes--an audience member did lean over to her friend and whisper loudly, "I can see his penis."
To her credit, I did perform that one in the nude. No, ISF will not be hiring me again.
OH WAIT HAHA LIES JK JK JK SIMMONS. I'm currently three days away from a flight back to Boise! I'll be stepping in to play Proteus in this summer's production of The Two Gentlemen Of Verona. It's an incredibly ridiculously high honor. Even to have had the chance to read the part was an honor. It's intimidating as all hell, but it'll be fine. Turbulent, of course--but fine in the end. I'll just be happy to get to Boise and start looking for a home base with my home girl from tour. We'll be moving in together so the sitcom that is our respective lives will air 7 DAYS A WEEK.
The pilot will feature 12 scenes of us playing Twilight Princess on Wii, 8 scenes of drunken dance parties, and 3 scenes of awkwardly raucous pooping.
I'll leave you to guess who'll be doing the poopin'.
That may have been my favorite sentence to write ever.
L.A.'s been nice, but I'm soured on it and I'm surprised at how not surprised I am. In terms of home bases, this definitely has the advantage of "buddies I've known since I was a tadpole" but the lack of job opportunities that don't require me to bite the proverbial bullet is a definite negative. Especially that bullet-biting job at the shooting range (Why do they even HAVE that?) It's a matter of VIBE, too. I was having a chat with my wonderful wonderful (she's cute and single to boot, GEEEENTLEMEEEEEEN) BFA friend in Santa Barbara last weekend and we commiserated about the L.A. thing. Her coming from SB, and me having a Santa-Cruz hippie heart, the vibe in LA is just...incredibly intense. There's a kind of frenetic energy that offers a bullet-train ride to an unknown place, and the toll is an IMDB page, a pair of aviators, and a shirt from Express. L.A. will cut you off and not give a fuck. Boise may take 10 seconds to realize the light is green, but you don't really fault the poor Subaru Outback. All they've done is make you late for a flexible appointment with Flying M.
Whoops...I think my bias is showing.
In short, I've had more surreal moments of 'not quite fitting in' during the time I've been home than ever before. Part of it, certainly, is the lack of car. But maybe I don't want to live in a city where I need one. YOU EVER THINK ABOUT THAT, YOU BIG METAL JERKS?
It really turns out its time to move on. On to a place where I have some actual agency. That is to say, on to a place where the EXPRESSION of that agency is clearer. More instantaneous. Am I thinking entirely with my ego? Quite likely! Do I care? Not slightly!
SO--I'm back on the blogosphere. And on this hemisphere. Performing Shake-a-speare. More updates to come! Fo realz.
Hornily Yours,
Deeks
Okay...
So yes, I'm sorry. I don't have a decent excuse for the extreme lull this time. Not like that Jaguar attack...and yes, I capitalized Jaguar.
THAT CAR NEARLY BIT MY ARM OFF.
No but fo reels, I've just been in Idaho--doing the tour thang. Twelfth Night went splendidly! Those are pictures of said production. Yes, I am playing Orsino and Sir Andrew. Yes, that wig did smell horrid after a show, and yes--an audience member did lean over to her friend and whisper loudly, "I can see his penis."
To her credit, I did perform that one in the nude. No, ISF will not be hiring me again.
OH WAIT HAHA LIES JK JK JK SIMMONS. I'm currently three days away from a flight back to Boise! I'll be stepping in to play Proteus in this summer's production of The Two Gentlemen Of Verona. It's an incredibly ridiculously high honor. Even to have had the chance to read the part was an honor. It's intimidating as all hell, but it'll be fine. Turbulent, of course--but fine in the end. I'll just be happy to get to Boise and start looking for a home base with my home girl from tour. We'll be moving in together so the sitcom that is our respective lives will air 7 DAYS A WEEK.
The pilot will feature 12 scenes of us playing Twilight Princess on Wii, 8 scenes of drunken dance parties, and 3 scenes of awkwardly raucous pooping.
I'll leave you to guess who'll be doing the poopin'.
That may have been my favorite sentence to write ever.
L.A.'s been nice, but I'm soured on it and I'm surprised at how not surprised I am. In terms of home bases, this definitely has the advantage of "buddies I've known since I was a tadpole" but the lack of job opportunities that don't require me to bite the proverbial bullet is a definite negative. Especially that bullet-biting job at the shooting range (Why do they even HAVE that?) It's a matter of VIBE, too. I was having a chat with my wonderful wonderful (she's cute and single to boot, GEEEENTLEMEEEEEEN) BFA friend in Santa Barbara last weekend and we commiserated about the L.A. thing. Her coming from SB, and me having a Santa-Cruz hippie heart, the vibe in LA is just...incredibly intense. There's a kind of frenetic energy that offers a bullet-train ride to an unknown place, and the toll is an IMDB page, a pair of aviators, and a shirt from Express. L.A. will cut you off and not give a fuck. Boise may take 10 seconds to realize the light is green, but you don't really fault the poor Subaru Outback. All they've done is make you late for a flexible appointment with Flying M.
Whoops...I think my bias is showing.
In short, I've had more surreal moments of 'not quite fitting in' during the time I've been home than ever before. Part of it, certainly, is the lack of car. But maybe I don't want to live in a city where I need one. YOU EVER THINK ABOUT THAT, YOU BIG METAL JERKS?
It really turns out its time to move on. On to a place where I have some actual agency. That is to say, on to a place where the EXPRESSION of that agency is clearer. More instantaneous. Am I thinking entirely with my ego? Quite likely! Do I care? Not slightly!
SO--I'm back on the blogosphere. And on this hemisphere. Performing Shake-a-speare. More updates to come! Fo realz.
Hornily Yours,
Deeks
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Pox on't
Promptly following my previous post, I contract chicken pox.
Yes, I'm twenty-goddamed-six.
I have no clue where I picked it up from, aside from those afflicted children I kept eating in the sick ward of that hospital they won't let me near again FOR SOME UNKNOWN REASON. Anyway, bada-boom bada-bang, laws of comedy--POX. Last monday my face resembled a topographical map of mars, a week and change later, there's just a few faint marks.
I am utterly thankful, grateful, and blown away by my friends, the cast, and office staff (Not mutually exclusive.) They immediately snapped up an understudy (a man named Dwayne Blackaller--who is one of the coolest people in the galaxy) and plugged away. I got daily text message check-ins, a signed rubber chicken, and even an effing birthday cake. CAH-RAZY!!
So now I'm hitting the ground running a bit. I'll roadie for the show tomorrow and Friday, then we'll have put-in rehearsals Friday afternoon and Sunday--then it's off to eastern Idaho!
Sheez, man.
In other news, I got a new phone, a new age (which I mentioned with expletive-filled gusto), and several new books...most of which I read during my quarantine. Ughff...
I feel refreshed...and ready to commit my body to some grueling, difficult, rewarding work.
Watch out,
Dak
Yes, I'm twenty-goddamed-six.
I have no clue where I picked it up from, aside from those afflicted children I kept eating in the sick ward of that hospital they won't let me near again FOR SOME UNKNOWN REASON. Anyway, bada-boom bada-bang, laws of comedy--POX. Last monday my face resembled a topographical map of mars, a week and change later, there's just a few faint marks.
I am utterly thankful, grateful, and blown away by my friends, the cast, and office staff (Not mutually exclusive.) They immediately snapped up an understudy (a man named Dwayne Blackaller--who is one of the coolest people in the galaxy) and plugged away. I got daily text message check-ins, a signed rubber chicken, and even an effing birthday cake. CAH-RAZY!!
So now I'm hitting the ground running a bit. I'll roadie for the show tomorrow and Friday, then we'll have put-in rehearsals Friday afternoon and Sunday--then it's off to eastern Idaho!
Sheez, man.
In other news, I got a new phone, a new age (which I mentioned with expletive-filled gusto), and several new books...most of which I read during my quarantine. Ughff...
I feel refreshed...and ready to commit my body to some grueling, difficult, rewarding work.
Watch out,
Dak
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Five Hunnid Tunny Fie Thousin Six Unnid Minnits.
Next week I turn 26.
It'll be difficult to trump 25, but I think I have a decent game plan. In short it simply boils down to accepting my craziness for what it is. Everyone I really admire is almost completely out of their mind.
This sort of thing happens in small cycles almost weekly. I start to drift away from myself until I feel strange in my own body, then I snap back with a deep breath and a sudden blinking awareness.
"Wait...what am I doing here? Where'd the pirate costume come from? Why does my mouth taste like butterscotch?"
The writing certainly helps a lot, too. It's good to let the thoughts loose after they've been bouncing around in my head for so long. Decompress. Get it out thurr.
Rehearsal, by the by, is going swimmingly. Obviously there are still tweaks and stuff to...well...tweak...but the whole thing is looking great as a cohesive whole. (Girl you got a cohesive hole.) As mentioned before, it feels great to be back in Boise...and STILL learning new things about this strange, wonderful gem of a city. I've even been to two new bars! Which is saying something given my previous venture here.
Allow me this bit of vanity: The first record of Shakespeare's theatrical career dates to about 1592, when he was 28. That gives me about two solid years to suddenly become 'prolific'.
And THAT brings me back to the insanity I'd mentioned before. It takes a certain amount of crazy to dedicate yourself to a pursuit so strongly that you transcend 'levels of experience'. I mean...that's just how I feel RIGHT NOW. Who knows. Give it a year.
Later loves,
Dak
It'll be difficult to trump 25, but I think I have a decent game plan. In short it simply boils down to accepting my craziness for what it is. Everyone I really admire is almost completely out of their mind.
This sort of thing happens in small cycles almost weekly. I start to drift away from myself until I feel strange in my own body, then I snap back with a deep breath and a sudden blinking awareness.
"Wait...what am I doing here? Where'd the pirate costume come from? Why does my mouth taste like butterscotch?"
The writing certainly helps a lot, too. It's good to let the thoughts loose after they've been bouncing around in my head for so long. Decompress. Get it out thurr.
Rehearsal, by the by, is going swimmingly. Obviously there are still tweaks and stuff to...well...tweak...but the whole thing is looking great as a cohesive whole. (Girl you got a cohesive hole.) As mentioned before, it feels great to be back in Boise...and STILL learning new things about this strange, wonderful gem of a city. I've even been to two new bars! Which is saying something given my previous venture here.
Allow me this bit of vanity: The first record of Shakespeare's theatrical career dates to about 1592, when he was 28. That gives me about two solid years to suddenly become 'prolific'.
And THAT brings me back to the insanity I'd mentioned before. It takes a certain amount of crazy to dedicate yourself to a pursuit so strongly that you transcend 'levels of experience'. I mean...that's just how I feel RIGHT NOW. Who knows. Give it a year.
Later loves,
Dak
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