The one about hating writing…

I’ll be the first to admit this. I suck at it. I suck at being constant about it, and i’m not good at keeping things up to date. I am, and always have been, about the face to face interation. I’m an actor, born and bred, and anything can be written, typed, or said, but the hardest thing to do is lie with the eyes.

I used to I couldn’t do that. After all, my mother always seemed to catch me out, but then I realized, she called my bluff at all times. And it clicked. It’s a mind game. All parents and authority figures do it. Managers, parents, teachers. If you can lie to a person face to face, you can, pardon my idealism here, rule the world….or at least the ‘sphere you were raised in…”, to quote a favourite movie of mine…

My mother and I have always had an interesting relationship. She and I are similar, but she doesn’t see it, or certainly doesn’t want to. but at the same time, that doesn’t mean she understands much about me either. She came to pick me up after work tonight, and nicely treated me to some food. And we actually talked for a while. A little reminising, a little bitching about phone bills, and alot of her telling me that had I journaled when growing up, I’d be a better writer now.

Here’s where she doesn’t understand. An actor’s, or singers or dancers mind is filled with images, sights, sounds, cues, lines, moves, words, notes etc…and something is always reminding you of your past. Sometimes you don’t want it to, but it is almost always there…I’m not suggesting I have a photographic memory…for most of my scripts, once it’s locked in there and I can spit it out while doing something else, including knitting – and I HAVE done that…fucked it up, pulled the stiches And didn’t miss a word…infact, I had to start another project halfway through the show because I’d finished the one thing I’d started…and had a nice scaft to wear as part of my costume for opening night…

And that right there is my point. Just “writing” down my day doesn’t interest me. I’m slightly ADD I suspect. I can’t follow one train of thought for longer than a few minutes at times, and at others, I relieve entire conversations over and over again. Not much fun sometimes…

She told me again and again, i’d want to remember things from when I was in school…I spent 8 years in a hellish exisitance in Private School. 5 of thoes years were spent hating my parents for sending me there and struggling to figure out why I was so dispised. I figured it out the year I found out my father had been cheating on my mom. It simply wasn’t worth worrying about anymore, and was time to start enjoying myself. And that came in a form that had nothing to do with my parents or anything my school, with the emphasis on academics and then athletics, was going to be super happy about. I simply lost myself in the performace. Thoes memories are the ones that are burned into my memory, the good and the bad, and for that, I’m happy.

Can I still remember the otherstuff? Yes, unfortunatly. But I don’t regret things. I don’t shudder and revisit things because I think I’ve made a mistake. It isn’t going to change it, and I want to use my energy to make people laugh, to entertaining, be it on stage, at work, on live. My mother is always after me to pick up performing agian, but she doesn’t understand that I am a gypsy, I am a living performer, it never stops, it never goes away, it IS me.

And for that, I am glad. I might not be able to write well. But I can live.