I am tiring myself and this never ending complains are just so French (a little voice in my head says ‘embrace it’) but….
seriously, internet, can we not? am I the only one getting hurt/offended/sad/frustrated because of facebook, twitter and any other board?
do we really have to know what other people are doing when they don’t really miss us?
I know I’m reaching about the whole thing because nothing is about me but..
I dream sometimes of an era where I wouldn’t know that this person I am dying to meet was literally next door last night or that the other life I left in Paris is doing really good without me, thank you very much
I really wish I wasn’t so lost
(and I need to turn this around, so tomorrow, I’m making a June to-do list)
I’m buying myself some peace of mind-
I ignore the teacher who annoys me (and my restless heart is squeezed and goes all out to prove that I’m more enamored and that indifference hurts me more than I care to show- although the problem is, with actors, they get really good at reading you, which makes it somewhat worse)
I let it burn my ears when I listen to music that usually makes me cry (wink wink Fauve)
but mostly I try not to let myself feel too much..
..and as soon as the thought is formed in my head, I get mad
because I have this list of things I don’t do- only because someone, at some point, made me feel ashamed about it
I don’t copy lyrics I love everywhere anymore like my teenager self used to do all the time, because that would be ridiculous for someone my age
I secretly like all those quotes on Tumblr after I had my childhood best friend laugh at me when I printed some (a lot) of them and taped them on my wall, under my mezzanine bed when I was fourteen.. yes, most of them were completely over dramatic and the best illustration of my ‘emo’ phase, but still-
and most of the time I let myself bask in this shameful feeling in a corner, letting them win..
while I see people going for what they want around me every day
there’s one other weird thing about acting- and that’s quite a new thing too, that I’m finally able to say out loud what I am doing here- yes, I act, or maybe saying I’m learning out to do it is more accurate.. but the weird thing is, you’re supposed to be honest all the time
of course we never completely are.. except when we are expressively asked to, on stage, repeating, creating an atmosphere
I was so surprised, even after all these months, to see people really going for it, going for what they want on that stage and seeing how it applies to their lives..
I mean, they have guts. They’re not afraid to ask, and demand, and pry, and.. they might not get what they want but..
they go for it
I never go for it
I wanna learn how to go for it
so this week end in Venice I saw this guy wearing his heart on his back- and it seemed quite beautiful to me, like being privy to a secret understanding of what it meant- of course I’m completely reaching, but hell-
can it feel the same as wearing one’s heart on their sleeve?
Kids soccer team’s coach told me they’re moving the limits of the field so I might wanna get closer to watch my kid #epicfail or #epicwin?
(I vaguely considered answering ‘No mine is playing tennis over there’, with what I would have added ‘and he’s actually not mine’ but it sounded a little too long in my head so I just said I wasn’t there with a kid)
(but what tricked him though? The Whole Food ‘Los Angeles’ bag? The sliced apples in a tupperware? Or the blanket on the grass?)
sometimes I think of all the reasons I don’t sleep at night anymore
or why I can only read the same story over and over again
sometimes I think of how I freeze, litteraly, how I just stop everything and how it became an habit so quickly
how long it takes for me to process the things that deeply move me
like a giant bowl inside of me where things are thrown, left there for me to digest
it takes me years, years to understand, years to walk blindly with a sour stomac and an heavy bowl, until it comes out, through my hands or my eyes or my voice
until it becomes something I can say out loud with no fear to be wrong in some way
until then I lose sleep reading the same story over and over again
I remember doing that before, more than once, but I remember this movie, how it fascinated me- the story of this guy, screwing up his own life, for real- the concept terrorize me, because it’s possible, and it took me seeing it at least three times at the theater and a few more on my computer screen to get over it, even though barely
I’m doing it again- and I don’t know what terrorize me the most- the possibily of what happens to my beloved characters to happen to me or that, maybe, it never will
when you break down a scene, there’s a few different ways to do it-
one of them is to chase down the ‘beats’
when the beat changes, what it means for the character, and tutti quanti..
the funny thing about learning the craft of acting is that most of what you do you can apply to your everyday life
like, before, I would have never noticed a beat, or I would have but wouldn’t have any word for it- I would have been able to say ‘there, right there is when the mood changed’, but it would still be pretty blurry in my head
now I see beats, everywhere
beats of my day- woke up happy to have finally slept in for the first time this week, went through my morning online routine, then Skyped with the other side of the world and… there. Right there. This is where the beat changed.
I can feel the switch now- it’s somewhere in my bones because I make it happen every night when I have to perform it on stage, and make it look as organic as possible
isn’t it funny? I used to find comfort and sense in the time difference and the parts of my day I had complete control over, out there under the sun
now the only thing that makes sense is the time I spend changing the beats, every night, on the little stage where we perform for each others
nothing else does.
Can you imagine walking through the Louvre by yourself, and not surrounded by hundreds of people? Here is how it would look.
Path of Beauty
I actually did it, several times, when I was working there.
I think I never appreciated this museum more than when it was all silent and undisturbed.
well, let’s start with this- I don’t give myself pats on the back very often, but there’s something I really believe in
as opposed to spending a lot of time letting a lot of shit getting out of one’s mouth
as much as I might not be familiar with all my flaws, I am too well aware of the lack of manners people tend to have in general
or how much is taken for granted, but hey! newsflash-
people try once, maybe twice, (three time if, like me, you have a sadistic need to feel disappointed) and then, they’re done
as in nothing, nada, zip
as in fuck you
as in, if you really let me down with your lack of manners, don’t be surprised when I give up on you, completely
(and that applies to people who would rather post a picture on their facebook instead of writting a simple ‘thank you’ to their kind photographer)
(I’m not pissed, just bothered- really, people? Can’t you do better? I promise you, it’s good karma- this other thing I believe in.)