on unhappiness

I had a presentation in my acting class today. It was a scene from Tartuffe- a scene spoken in rhyme. I had to have a temper tantrum in the scene, and for some reason I had a problem with this. I was told to have fun with the scene; to let go; to be the brat the character was. Oddly, I don't know how to be a brat or how to have a temper tantrum...oh, but this is acting, see- I had to pretend. I felt constraint- if I let out all that emotion, what would possibly come out? I didn't practice the tantrum. I knew the lines inside out and my partner and I worked on the scene, hours total; however, the tantrum I decided to improvise. Simple enough, isn't it? I improvise many things- life's an improvisation, isn't it? I pulled it off, and not quite sure how it turned out for the audience's perspective, but the humour in a tantrum came out... somehow.

After class my professor asked me to go talk to her when I had a chance. I had some time after class, so I went. I figured it was about the scene. I was nervous, actually. It doesn't really matter how much you practice a scene or how well you know your lines, you never really know what the end product will be. How can a piece of art be judged anyway? Who is to say what is good and what is bad? I mean, clearly some work can show the obvious- but how does one develop the right to judge your work? Is it a right or is it a skill? How do you do you develop the skill to judge your own work? I don't know if I ever can. I can look at a piece of work and know what I liked or what I thought worked and even what I would do if it were my piece. Does that mean I am right or that I have the skill to judge work- to judge my own work? Why is always about judgment...

She sat at her desk and I sat across; nothing uncommon, I've sat there plenty of times. She has taught me before and I TA one of her classes so it seems to be a regular occurance. She asked me if I could relax. She was right, I was sitting pretty tense; I loosened up a bit. "No," she said. "In general."

What do you say to that? I chose to say nothing. I just listened. She explained she didn't really think through what she was going to say to me, so I fed her one of her famous lines:

Don't think. Just speak.

When you look at that by itself, it can seem dangerous. Vulnerable. Naked.

In one sentence she said to me that she did not know me very well. In another five minutes she read me like a book. She thought I was unhappy. She believed it was part of coming back from being away somewhere great.

I listened.

It is one thing to be unhappy.
It is a completely different thing when you are obviously unhappy to others.

Do I wear a sign that says unhappy? Could it possibly be that obvious to her through my acting? She said good acting comes from a happy actor. That's enough to ponder on by itself. Did that mean my acting wasn't good? She did only say positive feedback. How can you just make yourself happy? Where does she get the right to judge my acting? Where does she get the right to judge my happiness? I suppose I could have my own tantrum, but the truth is she is right.

I have felt genuine happiness before. Contentment. Bliss. In knowing that, I know I feel genuinely unhappy. How does that work for a generally happy person?

It doesn’t.

Where do the emotions of sadness, confusion and anger come from? How is it present with joy, contentment and love? On the surface I am happy; but somewhere my soul is crying and I don't know how to console it. I thought I had it figured out. I spent a year away living life. Learning how to struggle and how to understand myself; how to define myself. I was away and I feared coming back because I knew I got something from being away, and returning would find me desperately holding onto what it was I discovered in a world that had no idea. I learned to trust myself ad that the unknown was something to embrace not to fear. I learned how to relax and how to breathe. I learned how to see beauty, enjoy beauty and create beauty. I learned how be an inspiration and now I feel the need to seek inspiration. I grieve. Not for leaving somewhere amazing, but for losing the person I found while I was there. The person that found happiness and provided happiness for others through that. The person that knows the importance of doing what makes you happy. The person that found love, not with a companion, but with life; with self. I seek to discover it all over again; yet I know it's not to go somewhere else to find it- it is to find it from within. It has not been lost, it has been buried. Buried in a world that only knows time and competition. A world running from something and into nothing, never knowing the in between. I hate this world. It's not me and it's not the person I discovered- the me crying inside.

I thought I was strong enough to hold onto it. I thought I had my head on straight to know I am powerful enough to be an inspiration. I am powerful enough to be the person I am meant to be. I felt myself slowly losing hold of it. I cried for help and no one knew how to understand; how to help. I began to conform to this world of time and deadlines and dates and unloved work. How could I do that to myself? And I am asked if I am unhappy.
No. I am devastated.

My head feels lighter. My breathing falls deeper; slower.

In choice, why do we choose to live a life we don't love?

I found myself falling into a routine; into a line of herd, becoming another face in the crowd; another number on the computer. Days have been passing by me, filled with work that needs to be done for the next day. I sleep, but when I sleep I am more awake than when my eyes are open. I fall into a world of dreams and close my eyes to the sounds of water rippling into shore and falling back into the ocean- the ocean I see and taste when my eyes are closed. Then my eyes open to the repetitive clock that screams over and over until I turn it off and decide to wake and to walk as though I have already died.

I found love in acting. My world woke me up when I was acting, but then I was told: Good acting comes from a happy actor. The one thing I do to make me happy can only be done well if I am happy. Perhaps that means I found love where I am meant to be- where I find happiness. Yet, it is not enough. I find myself acting all the time. I find myself acting happy when there is no stage. But the truth is I'm not very good. I'm a horrible liar and the only person I seemed to have fooled was myself.

I still don't know if the presentation went well. I don’t know how to judge my own work. I don’t know how to uncover the emotions I suppress- the unhappiness that hides is revealed to the people around me.

I am given advice to do the things I love to do. I went to the gym today. I bought myself some chocolate. I had a long, hot shower. I ate some pasta. I talked to a good friend. I sat to do some work. I stopped. I started writing. I cried.

I found myself tightening muscles that really need to learn how to be loose. I ate chocolate and then I ate too much. I enjoyed my shower, but had too much pasta. I miss my friends. I really don’t like to do work and I felt guilty not accomplishing anything. I’m still writing. I can finally take a deep breath, even though my eyes are puffy.

But I smile.

Today I discovered unhappiness.
Tomorrow I find happiness.
And right now I am happy to know I feel.
And maybe that's just me acting again.

written February 12, 2008 at 11 pm, no time.

In my mother's eyes

She lives in freedom. She has passion in her eyes. Her heart leads her in the direction she chooses to go. Each step she takes with dignity and devotion; effortlessly, she glides, as though she is not stepping at all.

She tosses her hair out of her face. It blows over her shoulder, revealing her eyes.

You are captured.

The journey begins as she leads you through a trance. It could last a moment; it could last a lifetime, but her impact is engraved forever.

She engulfs you in her love through her soothing voice, gentle touch or perhaps merely her presence. In her eyes you are lost, yet found simultaneously, completed in some way, left feeling soothed and content.

In her eyes I see the places she has been and the person she has become. I see her footprints and I leap to each one in hopes to land where she has- in hopes to sore where she has.

Her divine love has molded the person I am. She has nourished me with strength, courage and faith. She does not lead. She does not follow. Instead she walks beside me, providing guidance and friendship I can turn to no other to provide.

Her smile reflects true beauty, radiating love and compassion.

She is an angel sent to change the lives of many.

She is an angel of divine love and she is beautiful.

In my mother’s eyes, I see the person I desire to become.

on figuring out how to let go...

Some days I'd like to think I have it all figured out.
Other days I realize I have absolutely no idea.

I'm surrounded by people who have a plan. Friends are graduating. They have applied for teacher's college or a masters program to continue their education. Plans range from getting married to travelling or looking forward to a job lined up. In fact, some have already begun their career, making money I can't comprehend.

I sit back and I look at each individual and smile. I listen to their stories and their plans, I see them growing more and more into the person they are meant to be; choosing paths that are so right for them. I am happy to witness and I am so proud.

As I watch the people around me continuing into the next stages in their lives, I sit back and realize I am an observer. What's next for me? I can't look beyond next week, let alone come up with something for my future. I was always asked what I wanted to be when I grow up... but I never actually thought the time to grow up would ever exist.

I am a dreamer.
I desire big things and my romantic mantality believes they will exist. But how does a dreamer live in the real world? A world that needs a plan; an answer; a pay cheque? How can I let go of all the constraints and allow my body to flow in the everyday motions and not just in my head of dreams. How does a care-free attitude become the actions of someone who cares somewhat too much? If I could float in my every step and become untouchable to the pressure and force to be a certain way and make a certain decision; I may conquer the dreams into my reality. How is it so easily lost? As though my entire life has had such extreme importance on something so magical and suddenly a time comes and it means nothing but a dream?

It makes my soul shed tears.

The thought to ever let go of them... I just don't think it exists to me. Is this what happens when people grow up? They fall into "the next step" and lose sight of what they really want? Or am I the only one struggling- to be one way or to be the person I am meant to be. Different. Devine.

Oh how a fork has more than one spoke- it's not just a decision between two. This is my life and I get to choose how to live it. Everyone around me is worried about what I am going to do next and I seemed to be the only one without a fret. Suddenly, I'm questioning and wondering and worrying what is it I am meant to do? Where did my tranquility disappear to?

My decisions should be made based on what can I do that brings the most enjoyment to me and allows me to be the most powerful and empowering I can be. When am I most happy and most challenged? Why am I afraid of it? What do I need to let go of that keeps me tight and constrained?

I need to let it go.

Allow me to be free; to be open; to be true. May I be led by my heart and my soul to do the things I am meant to do. Oh how education in a book is important, but the learning to acquire in the world is not captured with words. May I be taught in ways writers can never have the language to describe. May I soak in the world and simutaneously hold the world in my hands. Allow me to follow my heart, for once in my life, I must allow myself to be vulnerable, safe and free. I will be surrounded by love as I accomplish the desires I love to dream into my life.
And I will choose to love life.

written February 2 2008 3:40am my time. my life.