Friday, August 26, 2011

A maybe new director

Today I met with a possible director at Scoop in fairfax. I barely made it, so did not want to go. I am still in a horrid mood from the breakup. But I'm off the Helen Mirren videos so that's progress I guess.
I auditioned for this director's piece last summer. I was in complete shock from the rape so pretty sure I wasn't as "alive" as the other actresses were. But my mentor (yeah, the same one who was so cold at my show) had suggested that, "I get over the rape and move forward" with something productive so I dragged myself to read for her piece. Shocker that I didn't get the part.
But I really liked her piece. It had magical, ethereal, emotional elements to it that I often struggle for in my writing. Plus there was physicality. So I contacted her on the hope that she might be interested.

The meeting went well. We ate ice cream and talked about rape. We dissed and laughed about the marginal theater scene in SF which led me to telling all the things I didn't want my piece to be. She said she was definitely interested in working with me but said that she's not really a director so we should just give it a trial and that either party could bail out anytime with no hard feelings. I told her I'd be in touch.

Now I am back in bed. Dude, maybe I need to get on a different anti-depressant. This breakup residual is really sticking; WTF I wasn't even in love.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

SF theater festival flake

I'm going through a breakup. (hmmm, did I fail to mention that yes! I did cross that threshold of dating again after getting raped!!) And even though it was a 6 month on and off shortish relationship, I am still going through the loss. And barely getting out of bed. And watching youtube videos of Helen Mirren and wishing that she was my mom. OMG, did i really just write that. If there was ever an indicator of depression.
So I am supposed to perform my piece at the SF theater festival tomorrow. I tried rehearsing it today for about 30 minutes and was quickly reminded about how much I am at odds with the last piece. So then I tried to dredge up my first piece and I could barely remember a word of it. So then I got back in bed and called Martha to flake. I'm such an asshole! I should have given her more notice!! But, as I've learned, there is nothing worse (performance-wise), than performing my piece about rape and then feeling like shit about it afterward. So I have to be ok with this and just move forward. Hopefully without Helen Mirren as my fantasy mom. Talk about true shame. :-/