I am a shy person;I always have been. As a kid I was terrified to speak out of turn or draw attention to myself in a bold way. There is a part of me that is still a bit fearful of that today. I'm also an only child. When I discovered theater it was a way for me to feel like I was part of the group. I tried everything from musicals to improv. As long as I was serving a team, I was happy.
Some time last year, those feelings changed. The desire to work with "reputable" companies within the city and have Chris Jones remember your name fondly was palpable...for most. It wasn't for me. I auditioned for some shows and theaters because I thought it was what I "have to do in order to make it." Then I realized that I don't know what it means to "make it", I think auditions are more awkward than shitting your pants on a first date, and my desire in life is to be creatively fulfilled, not necessarily a working actor. And with that, I decided to write my own shit and be a solo performer.
Just like when I started out in theater, I was scared out of my mind. The shy and awkward only child's place is not the stage, and the idea of standing alone on that stage sent me into hysterics regularly. However, the only child does have a sense of independence and, if you want something done right, you force yourself to do it even if it makes you so fearful you feel as if you are on the verge of upchucking all hours of the day and night. What will you learn in the process? Let's find out, shall we.
I started out my Year of Myself by writing a one-woman show. I didn't know if it would be produced or not. I wasn't even certain that people would like it, but I shared it with a select few then moved on to my next conquest- stand up comedy. Standing up with a microphone was a breeze, and I didn't die. As a matter of fact, I finally knew what it was like to speak to a group of people and not have them interrupt me with much funnier and wittier bits than my own. Once stand up was put down for a nap, my one-woman show was produced. I got to perform my own words for six weeks, and no one said they hated it. After all that madness, I decided to try storytelling and, once again, not a single one of the "cool kids" who came out to listen thought it was terrible. That is to say no one was man enough to hate me to my face in the past few months and, therefore, I consider them my adoring public. I had an invigorating year and, as always, putting myself in situations I fear most proved to be the best thing for me.
Why am I writing this? Because I hope it will go viral and spawn my blogging career? No, but it you want to share this, you have my blessing. Basically, I just want my artistic friends to know how important it is to not follow these guidelines and rules set up in our industry which is, come on, folks, centered around make believe anyway, to the letter. You can do absolutely anything if your goal is to simply do that thing, and it will be satisfying. In art, as long one tries, one cannot fail. In addition to that, even if you do attempt to step up onto that stage all by your lonesome, you are not by yourself. It took an army of fabulous friends to act as my emotional support, my audience, my directors and producers in order to make my year what it was--a success in my eyes.
The main purpose of this entry, however, should be-- personal, emotional upkeep and motivator. I need this positive recollection of the year's events because, when I am scared to do something in the future, all I have to do is go back and read this. It probably won't make me any more or less brave to do the thing, but at least I'll know I survived to write this. And I will survive again.
There you have it, people. I took a year-long absence from that comfortable little spot behind my tree, and I stand before you...pretty much the same person I was before, only with more assurance. I am shy at times. (But I'm not standoffish because I'm bitchy. We just need to set that record straight once and for now, if not for all. Introverts happen, and you're going to have to deal with it. We can't all be the life of the party. Some of us just need to attend.) I am loud at times. I may do some things on stage that fail and some things that others consider brilliant. I will have more misses than hits, but at least I know now I have the ability to stand on my own two feet regardless of the outcome. I am no longer crippled by fear of creating alone, and it is pretty awesome. This is probably what it feels like to be asexual...
