Sunday, August 5, 2012

Sometimes I just gotta bitch

I wrote an entirely different blog.  It was pretty much my perception of theatre in SLC.  I got very angry.  Even a bit douchebaggy.  It is born out of a HUGE frustration, that sometimes makes me think I'm going to explode.

I've addressed this topic before, but I got pretty in depth this time.  I covered a lot of bases.  I said a lot of things.  Things that if taken the wrong way may be considered offensive.  I don't want to offend.  I honestly don't.  So I think this is one of those times that it truly is better for me to keep my fat mouth shut.

So I erased the whole thing.  Some things really are I think, better left unsaid.  So I unsaid them.

The other problem is that when I do find someone to talk about these things that really bother me, we inevitably hit a point where the other person does more justification than actually listening, thinking, or contributing to the conversation.  This is fine as well.  I guess I'm not trying to change minds...I'm simply attempting to be understood from my end.

I guess what it boils down to, is that I've yet to find a theatrical soulmate out here.  Someone who feels the same way I do.  Someone who sees the same things I do.  Someone who I honestly connect to in that only part of me that I take seriously.  My theatre me.  My artist me.  My...well...me.

Anyways.  I already feel myself going back to my other blog.  The one I erased.  I guess that shit just REALLY needs to come out, but I'm not going to let it.  At least I'm going to do my best to not let it.

I will go to and say though, that it is a large part of the reason I so desperately want to move back to Vegas. In Vegas I may never get paid.  There are certainly no equity opportunities, or contracts waiting.  For me not a big deal, that's never been a big motivator anyways.  Those things exist here.  Sort of.  See the problem with SLC is those opportunities are rare, few and far between, and in the meantime, if you want to work you're going to have to sing some goddamn Weber, or Rogers and Hammerstein.  Fuck that.

In Vegas there is rarely any waiting.  There is new and exciting all the fucking time.  Every month, there will be audition notices for theatre that is alive, and vibrant.  No fucking warhorses.  No relics.  Stuff that means something.

Slipping again.

Puppies
Kittens
lollipops

All the shiny things

All right.  So far, this one is much less vitriolic.  Its also much less detailed, but the price I pay I guess.

You see my problem is that I don't care about so many things.

I don't care about what's on TV, or who took the box office.  I don't care about the Olympics.  I don't care about fashion, or celebrities.  I don't care about the weather.  I don't care about religion or politics.  I don't care for your gods or your demons.  I don't care about recipes, or food.  I don't care about vegetarians, or omnivores.  Organic or McDonalds.  Farmers Market or Convenience store tins.  I don't care about the causes.  I don't care about the fights.

Don't get me wrong.  All of these things serve their purpose.  I have opinions on all of them.  I can converse about all of them.  And its a small lie that I don't care.  I do...to an extent.  I have feelings on most of the topics listed above.  When I say I don't care...what I really mean is...

I don't CARE.  I'm not passionate about any of them.  I haven't invested my life, my time, my soul into any of those things.  I haven't studied them with a fierce burning love.  I haven't devoted hours and hours of my existence to them.  I haven't bled for them.

I have for theatre.  Acting.  Writing.  Directing.  I care so intensely.  So passionately.  So fucking fully for that one dynamic.

If as they say, life has no inherent meaning other than that which we assign to it, then that is MY meaning.  That is the reason for MY existence.  I don't care if I get little green pieces of paper to do it...I just want to fucking do it.  I don't care if I have a card from a Union that says I'm better at it than someone else.  I just want to do it.  I don't even care if I AM better...or worse...at it than someone else.  I just want to do it.  I want to breathe it.  I want to swim in it.  I want to fuck it.  I want to dive in and never come up for air.

I also understand that my passion is just that.  Mine.  You may not share it.  You very likely have things in your life that you feel just as strongly about.  Maybe not.  I hope you do.  Whether its the same thing as me or not...isn't really the point.  My point is simply this...I may be geographically mislocated to live the life I want to live.

I'm not positive on that.  I want to be wrong.  I honestly have wanted to give SLC a chance, and to have it give me a chance.  So far it hasn't worked out satisfactorily for either of us, and I wonder how long...how many chances...before its time for both of us to cut our losses and move on.

There are things...very specific things, that I want to do in SLC before I leave.  Things that if they work out, may keep me here forever.  But the chance to do those things come so rarely.  Are so fleeting, and for the most part missed when the chance does come along.  To fill the time in between the options are Joseph and the goddamn coat he sings endlessly about...or nothing at all.  And in that time I stagnate.  I can't keep doing that to myself.  I honestly can't.  I so desperately need...I know that sounds melodramatic but its true...I fucking NEED to not stagnate.

I'm gonna quit for tonight.  I keep almost writing stuff that I intentionally don't want to write.  I've said I think enough to communicate where my brain is at tonight anyways.  Really what I'm doing is realizing that in three weeks, my life opens up, and I need to pretty quick make some hard decisions on what, and where, I want that life to take me.  Plus...I don't deal well with my own personal life transitions, and I'm coming up on some pretty big ones.  Forgive me my vitriol.  My release.  My use of this space to vent.  Usually I make an attempt to be a bit more controlled.  Focused.  Positive.

It just doesn't always work out that way.

1 comment:

  1. Take a deep breath and plunge. It's all you can do. Some people can survive and be happy. Artists are unique in their driving need to live, really live. It's air. It's water. It's you.
    Stop stalling. Regret is a worse fate than death, or poverty, or loss. At least it is to me. I feel the echos of my drive in you, and I can't be still, or content, with just okay or waiting for someone else to give me my opening. You've got it in you to make your own way. Pull your tendrils of emotion tight into your gut and do what you have to do.

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