I have not done what I said I was going to do.
You should not be surprised. . .I am an artist, therefore, my very nature prevents me from adhering to any set social structure or preconceived life plan. . .
Bollocks.
I just got busy.
But with coffee, cockney, and cacophony.
I started working in a coffee shop--he's local, dressed in skinny hipster jeans, a dirty hippy t-shirt, with a splash of art and pretention. . .but, always serves up damn fine coffee.
I also got caught up in rehearsals. . .I am in a play!!--Educating Rita by Willy Russell. I am Rita. It is a play at the Charleston Acting Studio on James Island in Charleston, SC. It is wonderful. It opened last weekend to rave reviews and standing ovations.
It's one of those roles, that reminds you that acting is simply holding a magnifying glass to extreme aspects of your personality. Rita is lovely and serves her words in a cockney accent.
Basic plot summary: Rita, a hairdresser, wants a better way of life, and she believes education is the way to do it. She enrolls in an adult college tutorial with a professor, who allows his burden of knowledge to jade him beyond perspective. Hilarity and revelation ensue.
***Insert Tangent***
At this point in the blog, I am wondering if I should reveal my super secret artistic approach to a character?? After all, the purpose of this blog is supposed to be about an artist. . .but, truly, my artistic process is a convoluted mess that is barely visible to me. . .in fact, it is so super secret, I am not even sure what it is. . .much like life--okay let me break this down.
Life is my past experience allowing me to live and choose (embody my life) in the present, and
Acting training is knowledge that allows me to live in and embody characters. I can't articulate how it works, it just does, because the knowledge lives in my bones. . .and retrieving that knowledge, experience, and perspective is different for each character. That's part of the fun.
***End Tangent***
I love Rita. I love this play. It will live in my blood long after the show closes.
Since this blog is about me living as an artist, let's explore my current situation. . .
I've ceased writing, but am brimming with ideas. . .
I am living with a friend, working in a coffee shop composed of eclectic and delightful staff and customers, playing with theatre friends, busying myself with American Theatre articles, while keeping a tab on the pop culture pulse of useless information. All in all, I think I am doing pretty well at this artistic lifestyle. . .
The thing is, is it's all reaching a head. . .Mt. Vesuvius style. . .
I am constantly in a state of motion of where to live and where to go and how to survive by means of my own. Things are wonderful here in Charleston. I find the people lovely and idiosyncratic, easy to talk to, and artistic. There are many avenues to explore and adventure down. . .
But, the pulsing desire to move to Chicago will not relax. . .each night, I crawl into bed, bury my head into the pillow, and my head comes alive with the possibilities of a more theatre driven city.
Here's what started the mess of head. . .
A month ago, I decided to stay here. I decided to make a life here in Charleston. Create a niche of my very own. I began looking for apartments and settling in to my job in a coffee shop. One day I was running, it was hot, but the wind was blowing, and all my thoughts were flowing through my veins as they tend to do, and a sudden sadness came over me. . .I felt like I had compromised something, and I started to cry. (Running does this sometimes--especially the long runs). . .either way, I continued the run, and let the thoughts continue their course, and what I decided was I wouldn't give up on Chicago. . .I would just try for both an apartment in Charleston and a job in Chicago. . .which ever came first would make my decision. In doing so, I would not be compromising. . .
And in true Flibbertygibbity luck. . .possibilities are appearing in both corners.
Nothing is solidified, but the mere thought of possibility in Chicago? Well my pulse races like an expectant virgin. . .
The logic suggests this feeling is merely the result of not having my own space, and so I don't have a sense of place.
The traveler in me screams adventure. . .
The artist in me quivers with anticipation. . .
It is important to note. . .in this very moment, I have everything I want/need. I have family and friends in close proximity, I have an artistic outlet, I have income, and I have artistic possibilities here in Charleston. So what makes Chicago something more? Why do I need Chicago? What is drawing me there?
I turned down Chicago to go to Korea. Then I turned Korea down while in New York. Only to have Korea come back to me in a desperate state in the middle of travel. Korea was a have to do moment, adventure. Life made sure it happened. . .
And so, this next decision between Charleston and Chicago. . .I will leave it in the hands of time.
***Insert Tangent***
I am in a room that has an Elvis clock on the wall. . .it was a clock only to be found in a Graceland novelty store. Elvis, adorned in his famous gold jacket, keeps the seconds with his legendary swiveling hips dance move.
***End Tangent***
With this new information, I revise my last statement, this life decision lies in the hips of Elvis. . .his swiveling hips will give me the answer. . .oh yes, they will.
My furry friends. . .Your quote. . .have you missed them, in my absence??
"In the important decisions of personal life, we should be governed, I think, by the deep inner needs of our nature." --Freud
Your song. . .just because it's been running through my head for a couple of days. . .
