Anxiety, Probably Called For

Been having a lot of weird dreams, all of which I am remembering, lately.  A bunch of anxiety dreams that night before the airport shift, the worst of which involved running down a pitch black (and deserted) hallway of a hotel, trying to find someone, and calling out their name, to no avail, though I can feel that some of the doors are open.  It's the "first day on a new job" feeling, the new thing that's out of my routine.  And seeing the reality of how much I have a routine as much as I'd hate to admit it.  (I'd be fine now, since I've gotten through it.  Though I still have anxiety dreams before I have to travel anywhere, even if it's just to my parents' house.)  In reality, the morning started out somewhat chaotic, the driver and I arrived a little after 8 am (I thought we were supposed to show up an hour early at the office) only to find a sign saying the office didn't open up until 9 am, and the flights were coming in before 10.  We did find someone, in the end, and we got to the airport with plenty of time to spare.  I had to meet people at different baggage claim areas, and the flights came in within 10-15 minutes of each other.  I had pictures, the first person resembled his photo, and once we found each other, we walked to the other baggage claim area.  Waited.  And waited.  I saw two people early on that I thought might be who I was meeting, but they didn't see me holding up their name, and he didn't look much like his photo.  (Though I have since seen the same photo elsewhere, and now see the resemblance.)  They walked away, and the area cleared out for the next incoming flight, and then walked back about 20 minutes later, where we finally connected.

Saturday, woke up to a sodden morning, and more weird dreams, trekked out to see the 3-Minute masters at SIFF, then caught the light rail back to the U District to stop by the Farmer's Market (to find something to make pesto with), checking out the Street Fair, which wasn't overly busy, due to the rain and cold, and only bought a tamale, in the end.  (No more nettles to be had.)  (And I love living in a city that has the equivalent of a "subway" now, though I do sometimes think about earthquakes when I'm on it.)

And between the short films, and the street fair, inspired to create.  To expand the realm of what is available, what is possible, what is interesting, believable, beautiful, thriving, pulsing and exciting in my mind.  Good to get out of my own world.  Good to feel inspired.

Today, I went to go see "How Things Work," an Argentinian film, playing in Ballard.  I saw the filmmaker standing outside, and went over to say "Hi" and "Congratulations! It has pretty much sold out."  (I went over and said "hi" because I felt bad about the airport thing; it was their film.  Hopefully, that's not considered "hounding," not my intention, though in retrospect, I can see how it could be.  And if called on it, I won't defend myself.)  I also traded in a couple of my comps for future tickets, tentatively, because I still haven't heard when we are going to be filming our class thing.  (Really hoping we can see the script beforehand, or meet; it's been a while.)

I liked it, had some magical realism.  I liked the camera angles, the way it was filmed, the use of hand-held, the beauty of the desert light.  It's about a toll-booth worker who takes a job selling encyclopedias (that have the "answers to everything" in them) on the road, after her father dies, in order to earn enough money to go to Italy to find her birth mother.  It ends where she is standing in front of her mother on Christmas morning, trying to sell her an encyclopedia, or rather, her mother making an offer to buy one.

There were tangential stories, which I guess would be the magical realism, and they worked for me.  Made me think of our film class and how there are many different ways of telling a story. Perhaps in class, where I have a vague memory of someone mentioning adding something to a script for the purpose of "magical realism," they get told to cut things so they can keep focus on the main protagonist's journey, because they are learning how to tell a story on film...kinda' like the difference between writing a stage play vs. a screenplay, how many fewer words the latter can have, the idea that you don't say it if you can show it, on film.  And how with both, you don't need to tell the audience everything with words, you can let them make the connections themselves.  Trust that they will.  (And I guess that's a difference between telling a story vs. giving a manifesto.  The beauty of a good story being that it can work on you your whole life; at different junctures of your life, you find new meaning in it.  With no definitive answer or resolution, you can turn it over like a pebble, and wrestle with it over the course of your life, sometimes actively, sometimes doing the work passively, but always an irritant to keep you searching.)

The filmmaker mentioned ending it at the meeting, without closure, because he wanted to leave the audience with something to chew on when they left the theatre.  The story was interspersed with "interviews" with the various characters answering questions to the camera, such as "Do you believe in everlasting love?"  "What is death?"  "How do you carry on?"  Questions the encyclopedia might have the answer to, and a way to see deeper into their stories.

One of the tangential stories had to do with an astronaut dog.  And at the end of the movie, my first thought was, "What happened to the dog?"  Actually, the relaltionship between the two women had enough closure for me, because they did finally meet (though every other storyline was left open to ponder; this was her main objective.  And now I wonder, "How does she get back home?"  "Does she go back home?")

In the Q & A after, he mentioned it had taken him nine years to make this film, from when he started to write it.  It won Best Director (Argentinian) and Best Screen Play (Argentinian) at the 2015 Mar de Plata Festival in Argentina.  ("Embrace the Serpent" won the top prize for best feature film.  That played here a couple months back.)  Guess it's okay that I'm still stewing over the thing I started writing last summer, but can't figure out where to go with.

Wednesday

Sitting here eating cake and watching a documentary about the evils of sugar (That Sugar Film.)  Earlier, I was sitting in a cafe with loud music playing, loud enough that I could recite Shakespeare monologues out loud and not bother anyone...actually, it was pretty empty.  I was trying to read Katherine (Henry VIII) in a Spanish accent, felt like I wanted to see if I could do it, as she is from Spain.  Took me twice as long, it was kinda' exhausting, I'm hoping the more I practice accents the faster I'll be able to speak, at any rate, I need to learn to do some at some point (requests I've been seeing are for British and French, but I know how to pronounce in Spanish and Finnish, so, I'm starting there.  I have French language CD's, watch a lot of foreign-language movies, too.  Helps to hear it.)

Life has mostly been a series on banging my head against walls, so, somewhat frustrating.  Finally got some movement on one of the projects I've been working on because we went above everyone's heads after a couple of months of stonewalling.  Much of the remainder of the frustration results from a lack of integrity, just walk your talk.  We're all hypocrites about something, I get that, but if you accept the accolades for something, you actually should be practicing it, otherwise it's just publicity;  and that's transparent, and hard to respect.  Just saying.

Anyway, looking foward to the film festival.  I'm working on Friday, should probably make sure my phone is functioning, as it's a shift where I'll have to call people.  My phone service is pretty awful, it keeps changing settings on me, last time it turned the volume off, and before that it moved the phone icon so that I couldn't find it (when it does updates.)

Watching a bunch of pretty heavy films for my character, this sugar film is a bit of a break.  (Oh, geez, no, this is pissing me off.  Profit over health.  And a calorie is not a calorie, as your body uses fats, carbs, and proteins for different processes.)  Trying to inform what got her to the choice she just made.  It is a comedy, but she still has to have a reason, and also a reason why she says what she does.  We haven't filmed yet.  Having a bit of anxiety over that, though heard from the director today.  They will be screening mid-June.

Cheers.

They grow up so fast

It's finally raining.  An excuse to do nothing outside the house today.  Went for a walk before the rains began.  Now I'm listening to music and sorting through stuff to get rid of it.  (An ongoing process, it seems.)

Was waiting around to sign up for concierge shifts for the film festival, since it seems all the venue shifts have already been filled.  Those have finally posted.

We haven't filmed yet, so also have to keep my schedule open for that.  Doing character research in the meantime, which is actually quite a lot.

Here are the geese babies, a couple more weeks out, they must be between 3-4 weeks old.

Now, May 14/L Herlevi 2016

Mother's Day

I'm feeling a little slow, started writing this on Saturday.

A friend whom I haven't seen socially in ages, sent out an invitation to hang out for Opening Day of Boating season on the Montlake Cut.  She goes every year (she used to row), but I've never made it.  (And as an aside, my college bf and family were always super excited about opening day.  I remember going to a party at someones condo to celebrate, though we never actually went to go watch any boats, and while near the water, there was no view of the races nor the parade.  But there was a party all the same.  Always liked his family.)

I was late setting out.  In my odd thought processes, stressing out about what to bring (snack-wise.) Settled on a cake.  While in the grocery store, toyed with the idea that being there was probably more important than bringing something, and that chips or hummus would also have sufficed, and then I wouldn't actually be late, but then decided that I needed to make something.

Anyway, was late arriving.  Walked the full length of people, one side of the cut to the other, but saw no sign of them.  (Seriously, I need to get phone numbers in my phone.)  It was a lovely morning for a walk, bright sun but cool in the shade, festive.  Took one final detour down a wood-chipped path, thinking, "well, even if I don't find them, it got me down here for the first time in ages, and I'm enjoying it," when I looked down to see a child, scrambling up the steep hillside below me, hanging onto a metal pipe, who looks at me and says "Hello."  It is my friend's child.  So, I make my way back around, using the stairs rather than the hillside, he is more fearless about such things than I, and I find them, overlooking the canal, plenty of room.  There were just a couple races left, plus the parade of boats.

And whenever I have to get up early to cook something, I think of my mother, waking up before dawn to bake a cake or cupcakes or make food for a potluck.  Staying up late to sew me some part of an outfit for Brownies. Curling my long hair in rollers, and having me sit under one of those dryers, to make my often tangled hair look good for school pictures.  It's the thing that stands out the most for me now for some reason.  It humbles me.  It's a quiet kind of mother's love, done when no one is looking.

Walking out

Hit my psychic wall of what I could take, and had to leave work early, as I couldn't deal with people any more.  The crying, I suppose, is unprofessional, but I'm a human first.  Anyone who has ever worked a customer service job, whether in person or by phone (or even over the internet, now) knows what I'm talking about.  You absorb slight after slight after slight, for hours on end, because unlike other jobs, you can't close a door or really walk away (cashiers, waiters, bartenders, front office, service centers, etc., you're whole shift is with the public), and then you hit your limit.

I told my boss I was leaving because I couldn't deal with people anymore.  I think one of the assistants went in and told her why, I don't want to get fired, but I couldn't talk to anyone else.  Had already cried on four people, and taken time out for lunch to calm down, but there was no where for any privacy.  Sat with sunglasses on and wrote.

Came home and went to the park.  Sat and watched birds.  Tried to read.  Came home and had a long talk with my housemate about it.  It's seven hours later and it's still making me upset.  At one point I was furious.

I confronted a person because they were talking trash about me in the third person to other people, while I was standing there, as if I weren't there.  I've never seen this person in my life, and didn't see them enter the building.  I had been trying to figure out why all these people (20? 30?) were suddenly in the room, milling about in front of me, and who they wanted to see.  I was surprised by their presence, so perhaps I wasn't as happy and welcoming as I was "supposed to" be.  I'm not even sure what I was being accused of.  Only that when I asked, the response was that they had a right to be there, to which I replied, "I never questioned that.  I never asked you to leave."  (I've never asked anyone to leave.)  I asked two times, "Can I help you?"  (Which I ask everyone that enters through the door.)  And no one answered, and then finally someone came over and finally asked me where a room was, and I figured out who they wanted to see, and I called that person.

I don't know why it upset me as much as it did.  One of my colleagues said it was because I was attacked.  Maybe.  Or maybe it was just my breaking point.  (Being dismissed, "she" "that secretary," being invisible, being accused, being judged.  Being "less than" because of my status?  Being "less than" because I'm a woman?  In any case, being unworthy, in their eyes, of addressing their issue with me to my face.)  I don't know.  Normally, I suppose I would've ignored it.  Not sure what snapped in me.

Long way to go

Rehearsal was painful.  Got a lot out of it, but hadn't made strong enough choices; part of that was that my previous critiques regarding "pushing" were in my head, so I was trying not to, which resulted in my being flat; partly it was getting a new version of the script, with a few major changes half-an-hour before rehearsal, and I have trouble finding the lines in the midst of all the stage directions (and if I'd had time, I'd have rewritten them out, but I get you won't always get that luxury of time and you just have to make it work, which I didn't tonight, which caused my reactions and delivery to be too slow); and partially, I hadn't given enough thought to how I feel about what was being said to me by the person trying to break me, and also, not enough thought to why I'm doing this, and why I need to be a leader right now, and what it means to be successful, and what it means to fail...how much of my identity is invested in the outcome, and how much am I willing to fight to make things go as I want them to?  (And the rehearsal was good for bringing to my attention all the details I need to think about.)

A lot to think about.  Probably not rehearsing again until next week, so I have time to figure out how the character feels about everything...to learn more about what these ideals are, and why she uses the examples that she does.  (Which are considerably different from the ones used on previous version of script, and from each other.)

We had an understudy for one of the roles today, I kinda' hope the director keeps him.  He wants the part, and the other actor hasn't shown up for the last three of the four past rehearsals/shoots.  On Sunday, he cancelled at the last minute, so one actor had to play two parts again.  Makes it hard to do the wide shots.  He's a good actor, seemed right for the part, but perhaps it's not a priority.  In the end, it is a four-person scene, not a three-person scene.

Stuff

I drink too much coffee.  I don't sleep enough.  I'm bad with money, I eat out a lot, I buy books, I give it away.  I know I have bills I still need to pay, and I know someday I might retire.  I go to church.  I'm a liberal.  I'm a feminist.  I think there is value in asking questions, being comfortable with uncertainty, by facing fears, and being curious, and being willing to be wrong, and to change.  I'm not entirely sure where my spiritual/religious beliefs stand, but I feel like my church has space for that. I'm not overly concerned about what happens to me after I die, (I'm here now, can I make the world around me a little brighter while I'm alive?) and am attracted to the teachings of Christ (the whole love thing.)  I love singing, and sing in a folk choir and a church choir, the first because I feel a sense of community (and they believe in me), the second because the music is diverse and challenging (even if I sometimes feel invisible). I'm an actor, a singer, done other performance (clown, solo, spoken word, etc), a mostly decent cook (make it up as I go along, so can't really repeat anything), a photographer, gardener by default (I like digging in the dirt, sometimes things grow in a manner that makes them edible), sometimes writer, naturalist, trekker, traveler.  I am super disorganized in any sorta' traditional sense, though somehow it all comes together in my head.  I'm better at idea generation than follow-thru.  I'm scattered.  I tend toward running late, I am easily distracted.  I hate talking on the phone, but love talking in person.  I love grocery shopping, and whenever I travel somewhere new, I figure out the transportation system and I wander around the grocery store/market.  My teen years were rough, 'til about 22 or so.  I've been suicidal, but that was a while ago.  I've been assaulted (after the worst of which, had serious PTSD.)  I've been emotionally abused, and lost my shit.  I had serious body-image issues when I was younger.  Things felt like crisis mode until somewhere in my 30's (other people's crisis, boundaries or something), and then I could finally breath.  I didn't drink until I was 21, and drank too much, but I suppose that's what you do when you are young.  I was in theatre.  We looked out for each other.  We took keys away, slept on floors and couches.  If I had to choose one group (job type) to be around for the rest of my life, I would choose actors and/or theatre folk.  I am coming to terms with art being my calling, even if it isn't seen as "responsible" or "worthy" (Get a "real" job. You need a "real" career.)  I was talking to my housemate (who has now started taking her first acting class at Freehold!) about taking classes to get in Med School at one point and not being able to make myself take any more chemistry classes, it's not that I couldn't do it, but something in me didn't want to, I just kept putting it off, and taking more and more art classes, and auditioning for random shows and being awful at it...and at some point you wake up and think, "Where the hell is my heart?"  (It took me a long time to figure out what to do with my life.  I don't have a "career."  I got tired of being treated as "stupid" or "less than" because I didn't go to grad school.  Also, I went to community college because that's what I could afford, before transferring to a four-year school.)  She didn't end up at Med School either.  We both thought we wanted to feel "useful" somehow (through external eyes), you know, "help" people, go to disaster zones, refugee camps and be of use (and there are other ways to do that.  There are groups of clowns going into those places now, providing a little more normalcy in stressful situation.  A little levity.  And that's worthy.)  And then I was saying to her how whenever I was going through a tough time in life it was art or music or poetry or writing or a movie or something that got me through it, and how is that not worthy?  You know, it is.  Why am I saying all this?  I'm tired of secrets.