Thank You, Mr. Wilson
So you smile and you shrug and you brush it all off with a "Whatever" whenever anyone asks you about the outcome of that "big audition" you know, the one that could have changed your whole life had you nailed it.
And you pretend that it doesn't matter that you worked the hardest that you had ever worked before on any given piece or that you left a little piece of your tiny naked and vulnerable soul behind in a room where two strangers got final say on your artistic capabilities.
After all, it just means something better is on the horizon, right?
And you giggle convincingly when you say that because you're a damn good actor, even if you do say so yourself.
And you try not to doubt yourself or get too sad about it because you've been reading up on the Laws of Attraction and, well, you don't need more doubt and more sad in your life.
And then chance or faith or divine intervention, even, drops a discount movie theatre in front of you. And you think what's the harm in taking a peak at what's playing?
And amongst the crap from Martin Lawrence and the animated schlock from Jerry Seinfeld, you see them: Forest Gump staring at a Pretty Woman in a bad wig no less, while Truman Capote, wearing chops most guys I know would kill for, watches on.
And you think, what the heck, I've got time. So you buy your ticket and some popcorn and you hope they don't notice the pop you're smuggling in your bag and you walk in.
In a dark theatre you have almost all to yourself (which is your idea of heaven, by the way), after only five minutes in, you've already forgotten about the kernels that are lodging themselves in your braces because you are so incredibly captivated by what's going on in front of you.
You realize that escapism doesn't have to be dumb or dumb you down, that millions of dollars actually can be spent on a legitimate piece of art and that yes even you can fall in love with the guy from Joe vs the Volcano... even for just a little while.
As you file out of the theatre, you realize that what you just saw is the reason you keep picking up the pieces after every imagined heartbreak and carry on to do it all over again on another day. You realize that you are alive and hopeful because you know that one day someone will be blogging about you and that movie they saw you in that made them go Woah.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a script to go write... right after I file my taxes.
And you pretend that it doesn't matter that you worked the hardest that you had ever worked before on any given piece or that you left a little piece of your tiny naked and vulnerable soul behind in a room where two strangers got final say on your artistic capabilities.
After all, it just means something better is on the horizon, right?
And you giggle convincingly when you say that because you're a damn good actor, even if you do say so yourself.
And you try not to doubt yourself or get too sad about it because you've been reading up on the Laws of Attraction and, well, you don't need more doubt and more sad in your life.
And then chance or faith or divine intervention, even, drops a discount movie theatre in front of you. And you think what's the harm in taking a peak at what's playing?
And amongst the crap from Martin Lawrence and the animated schlock from Jerry Seinfeld, you see them: Forest Gump staring at a Pretty Woman in a bad wig no less, while Truman Capote, wearing chops most guys I know would kill for, watches on.
And you think, what the heck, I've got time. So you buy your ticket and some popcorn and you hope they don't notice the pop you're smuggling in your bag and you walk in.
In a dark theatre you have almost all to yourself (which is your idea of heaven, by the way), after only five minutes in, you've already forgotten about the kernels that are lodging themselves in your braces because you are so incredibly captivated by what's going on in front of you.
You realize that escapism doesn't have to be dumb or dumb you down, that millions of dollars actually can be spent on a legitimate piece of art and that yes even you can fall in love with the guy from Joe vs the Volcano... even for just a little while.
As you file out of the theatre, you realize that what you just saw is the reason you keep picking up the pieces after every imagined heartbreak and carry on to do it all over again on another day. You realize that you are alive and hopeful because you know that one day someone will be blogging about you and that movie they saw you in that made them go Woah.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a script to go write... right after I file my taxes.
Labels: Making It Work, The Actor
posted by Nancy Kenny at
8:38 PM
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