Thursday, 16 February 2012

Celebrating "Might Have Been's"

I know it sounds a bit controversial, because isn't the normal line to forget all the coulda shoulda woulda, to let go of what might have been and embrace what is?

I fully agree with the principle - but actually, I think sometimes, it's a Good Thing to remember what could have, but hasn't, happened. Because the idea of forgetting the might have been's is about letting go of opportunities we didn't seize, and good experiences we missed. But let's remember that we also manage to make decisions which purposely *avoid* certain circumstances - and yet when we do successfully avoid them, we don't celebrate it as a success. Bad situation avoided, everything's fine, move on. And yet it's not equal, is it?

When something terrible happens, we quite rightly lament how we (whoever that means) failed to prevent it: we could have done this, we should have thought of that. But when we actually do what we "could have done", when we think of what we "should have thought of" - when we do all those things which, if we hadn't done, we'd be kicking ourselves about afterwards - we don't congratulate ourselves. Intensity of regret is always correlated to the gravity of the tragedy you failed to prevent, whereas celebration of tragedy aversion never is.

My main example here is going to be about suicide attempts, which is an extreme but because condensed version of my general point. When somebody embarks upon a suicide attempt, but stops in the process, all anybody says afterwards is "you shouldn't have done that", "you've behaved unacceptably", etc - not in those words, maybe, but that's often the gist. Yet there are two actions involved there: starting, and stopping. If you stop and turn back during a suicide attempt, you've probably just saved a life, because if you hadn't stopped, you probably would have killed yourself. OK, if you hadn't stopped at that precise moment maybe you would still have survived somehow, but you can't ever be sure. So why don't people throw a freakin party in honour of the fact that this person did not complete suicide?

This is the kind of "might have been's" that I encourage everyone to celebrate. A lot of the time when battling with demons, we find ourselves in situations of real danger and often it's down to us to stay safe. But we don't congratulate ourselves when we manage to get out of a sticky spot, or do the right thing. To make up an example from ED recovery: in the past, you've fainted from not eating breakfast or lunch. Today, you have eaten breakfast and lunch, and you haven't fainted. No, it's not a definite that if you hadn't had those meals, you would have fainted - but the fact is that you did eat them, and you haven't fainted. If for some reason today you had restricted, and collapsed, afterwards you would have been berating yourself for not having those meals - if I'd only had them, everything would be fine. Well hello, you did have them! And that's why everything is fine! You avoided a crisis!

That's why every single achievement is worth celebrating in recovery, because you never know what awful things you're avoiding each time you make the right decision. Don't just accept that you did what you were supposed to and carry on - celebrate everything that goes right, because it could so easily have gone wrong.

Wednesday, 21 December 2011

Evening all

I have been trying, and failing, to do some freewriting every day as a sanity protector - what normally stops me is that I don't have time. Or that I do have time but am so busy thinking about other things that I forget. It has been useful, when I have done it, but at the same time it means this blog has been somewhat neglected. It's been 2 months to the day since I last wrote.

A lot has been happening. I will try not to make this rambling, but I always do and it never works! Oh dear...

I've been under a lot of stress because of work and money. Ever since my original, amazing, perfect job fell through in the summer, I've felt under pressure to make the money situation come together. That is even more true now that I have decided to go to drama school.

Yes, I've decided to go to drama school. It's going to cost buckets of money, which I don't have and won't manage to raise in time so it'll have to be loans loans and more loans - but you know what? I don't give a fuck. I'm doing it. Because I want to. Because it's about time I took control back over my life and started doing what I *want* and what I *enjoy*, because I'm the only person who can make that happen.

That said, I am now very pressed for time because I need to amass as much money as possible before I leave Russia. It may even be profitable to go home earlier than planned and get a part-time job, because even on minimum wage in the UK, at least I can predict work. Here, you can't. There are no contracts, just a phone-call and a handshake. Usually not even a handshake. Which means if people decide to screw you over - which has happened to me many, many times over the last 6 months - there's nothing you can do about it. So I am at once desperate for work and money, and being messed around by the people who provide it. A double whammy of stress. It's not ok.

But I'm starting to surface from it. I have a lovely month or so up ahead of me, even though it will do nothing to ease the financial situation. Home for Christmas tomorrow, back in Moscow for New Year with friends, about a week of day-trips around the Moscow region with said friends, and before you know it I'll be off for New Zealand on January 15th! Can't believe it's happening already! Can't really believe it's happening at all...! I need to stare at my plane booking to make the message sink in xD

Fortunately, something is going right at the moment, and that's acting. I'm in the middle of The Dumb Waiter, in hands down the most challenging role I've ever played and, frankly, am ever likely to play [paranoid schizophrenic psychopathic hitman, anyone?] - but it's correspondingly rewarding. We gave a little preview/open rehearsal/"reading without scripts" on Sunday, which was disastrous in that we totally messed up the play, but very successful in that the audience enjoyed it! I mean none of them knew the script, they had no idea we fucked up - ah, the beauty of playing Harold Pinter to a Russian audience! ;) It was attended by another English director who had approached me about potentially working with him, but had never seen me act; afterwards he was talking like he'd already cast me. What's more, a professional Russian actor who was also in the audience expressed an interest in working with me - so the three of us (me, him and the director) are going to start Insignificance by Terry Johnson soon. How fucking awesome is that? Another lead role I haven't had to audition for, acting opposite a professional who's even offered to coach me with character building. I am being spoilt rotten!

I'm also sort of tutoring a Russian girl (with very good English) who is applying to drama schools in America and the UK and preparing audition monologues; mostly I'm just making suggestions and including the odd tip here and there, I wouldn't call it teaching. But it is making me realise just how valuable my life experience is with acting. I mean, I already knew that having been through what I have,  I can understand and emulate some very extreme emotions and psychological states that most people would find daunting. It's part of what attaches me to acting so strongly; I feel like I'm able to put all that shit to good use, and I know that it helps me to meet a demand which others might struggle to meet. Of course there are styles and genres that I find hard which "normal" people would find easy, but I don't mind. I'm aware of what my strengths and weaknesses are, and it's ok. But trying to teach someone how to do something really makes you realise how much of it you're doing automatically, and I had no idea. I had no idea that I have such a rich selection of life experience to go at, even though I'm 6 years younger than this girl I'm tutoring. And I really, really appreciate that. Makes teaching almost impossible, because I can't teach her how to have lived my life, but I've come to value how wide an emotional range I have without even trying.

Acting makes me feel whole. I fills in the gaps that trauma has left, and helps me bond with even the worst of memories rather than trying to push them away and pretend they're not there. All I know is: when I'm acting, I'm happy. Not despite the hard times - but *together with* and even *because of* them. And I appreciate happiness just as much as anyone appreciates anything that's been rare for them.

Yes, I've been to hell and back. Yes, I've been right to edge of sanity and stood on the edge peering over into the abyss. Yes, I have huge chunks of memory missing, some of them months long, and I can only imagine now what must have been happening. But I've also had the chance to see some of that in context, and piece together some kind of perspective. And fucking hell, I'm only 22! Sounds like a hell of a life - and it has been, still is, but acting helps me understand. A life like mine, and acting, just seem to go together. Like a 2-piece puzzle. It works. They just slot into each other, they blossom out of one another. And I love it. I just love it.

Friday, 21 October 2011

Perspective

Perspective. I feel I'm in need of some at the moment. I'm getting really stressed out over a class I teach on Saturdays - have one this afternoon - a drama class with the students aged 11-13. I didn't want to do it, but was kind of forced into it because there was nobody else and the guy who runs the school was all like "please can you help us" "everything's going wrong, why is life so difficult sometimes" etc etc. Laying it on thick, in other words. So what was I supposed to do? And anyway, he somehow convinced me that 11-year-olds aren't really children any more, so it would be fine (he knew I didn't want to teach any children's classes, as I had tried one when I first arrived and had to put my foot down straight away not to do any more. What was I thinking? Of course 11-year-olds are children.

Guys, I absolutely hate it. Seriously I hate it. These kids have practically no English whatsoever, which severely limits what I can do with them because most activities you could do with kids that age, they just don't understand. I can't really get them to do speaking activities, because they aren't ready for it linguistically, added to which they are, for the most part, painfully shy and never want to do anything. Just getting them to do an activity is a feat of persuasion. Getting them to understand and do it right is even harder. Just, omg. I hate it. I. Hate. It.

Every week I dread it, I can sort of feel it approaching and I don't want to think about it. I have an adult class beforehand which is overshadowed by the prospect of this kids' class. In a way I feel like I want to just take all the years' classes at once, to get them over with and not have to face them any more. Kind of like exams, you know? You reach a point where you just want to get in there and get it over with.

There's nobody else I can fob it off on, there's no getting out of it. The whole reason I'm doing it is precisely because there is nobody else. So I can't pull out. I don't understand how I'm supposed to maintain this for the entire year. :'(

And yet, really, I *need* to try and keep it in perspective. So there's 1 hour a week of my job that I absolutely despise. If I compare myself to the rest of the population, as a general rule, I'm getting off pretty lightly right? I mean how many people are there doing 9-5 jobs every single day that they hate every hour of? I don't understand how they do it, I really don't.

I suppose what's getting to me isn't just that I don't enjoy it, it's that it makes me feel inadequate. I don't know what to do with these kids, I don't know how to teach them. I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know what level I want them to achieve, or what they should be able to do at that age. I just feel shit. Bit of a sore spot, as I'm sure you're all aware. It's upsetting, and it's triggering. It really *really* makes me want to turn back to my eating disorder, because that was always a fairly sure-fire way of distracting myself from feeling shit at other things. Knowing that I was losing weight was somehow a cushion that made other things a little more bearable, and took the focus off them.

So no matter how much perspective I try to gain, it still doesn't seem to change the fact that this 1 bloody hour a week is sticking its finger into some very old wounds that haven't healed yet. And I don't know how to deal with that. How do people handle jobs they hate? I do not understand. Maybe it's because the conclusion they draw from having to do it is not that they must be rubbish. Which is my conclusion. And I can't see how I could draw any other conclusion; I just don't know how to work with children. And they are children, no matter what the boss might say.

The further complication is that he is directing the play I'm in at the moment, and he gave me my role. I don't want to piss him off because I don't want to make rehearsals awkward. I just want him to like me, you know? Silly really. Even though I'm actually annoyed at him for pushing me into teaching this class that I don't want to do. And I'm still annoyed at him for lying to me about how much the drama school pays, which is petty but it's the fact he lied that gets to me. Like he was trying to lure me in or something. Like, dude, there's no need for deceit here. Seriously. It's just going to make me cross with you. And god knows I've been messed around by enough people already over the last few months. >:(

Not entirely sure what the point of this post is. Suppose I just feel the need to explain myself.

Sunday, 9 October 2011

OMG, FY

еThis post will hopefully go some way towards balancing out the last post and all its misery.

I met Martin (director/drama school guy) today to have a look at a play; someone else I know, one of my students, said he was going too, so it was going to be an audition of sorts. Audition usually freak the shit out of me but I know Martin and I knew it wasn't going to be me doing a monologue in front of a panel or anything! So, went along.

When I got there, Martin basically told me that he wasn't bothering to audition me, because he'd already cast me in the lead.

Yes, you did read that correctly.

Martin basically told me that he wasn't bothering to audition me, because he'd already cast me in the lead.

=O

As a result: I'M IN A PLAY I'M IN A PLAY I'M IN A PLAY!!!

It's a fucking awesome character as well. I AM SO STOKED I DON'T KNOW IF I WILL SLEEP TONIGHT.

We're doing Harold Pinter's The Dumb Waiter, but with a few twists. There are only 2 characters in the script, two assassins, one of whom has to kill the other at the end. The one who gets killed is going to be played by several different people, who will switch every time there is a 'silence' in the script. The idea is that the other guy, who kills him, is seeing the last 11 people he's murdered, in a kind of going insane way. That's who I'm playing. A crazy, hallucinating assassin. I mean come on, does it get much more fun than that? I always like playing characters who are a bit mad anyway, so this is like, perfect. :)

The most hilarious thing is the reason why I got the lead role with no audition. When I first got to Moscow, I had agreed that I would do a monologue at the English Club partly run by Martin - but had no time to prepare and had to read off the paper, which is always shit. Last week, I was asked to do another one, and this time was able to learn it, rehearse it a bit, etc. Even so, when the performance came, the odds of success were stacked against me. I was performing it in a sports bar with a football match on in the background because they wouldn't turn the TVs or their loudspeakers off, which is off-putting enough as it is, added to which I didn't have the theatre luxury of the audience being invisible in the dark. I could see every single face staring up at me, concentrating on me, watching me. Given I have horrific stage fright, this was not cool. It was an extremely emotional monologue, basically a suicide note, but with so many distractions I just didn't feel I made the connection with the character at all, and was kinda embarrassed that Martin had even seen it.

Turns out, it was that monologue that got me this part. That's why he didn't audition me. I keep learning over and over again that you can never judge how well your own performance went, but always forget it - so here I am, learning it again! Seriously, I genuinely thought it was one of the worst performances I'd ever done. It would seem not everyone thought it was as bad as I did!

Huzzah!

Friday, 7 October 2011

FML

This post is somewhat without reason, I just need to do a bit of a brain-dump of all the things I'm trying to deal with right now.

Depression is always there.
ED is always there.
I've been ill almost this whole week, which a) was shit in itself, and b) cost me well over £500 because I don't get sick leave.
I found out the other day that a childhood friend has been very ill with depression and PTSD. She's not a close friend, but still. Hard news to take.
My flatmate is coming back tomorrow with her now husband, who I don't know. Stranger moving in, yey!
I lost one of my jobs this week.
I also realised that when I get a new visa in November, I can't just get another one like I've already got. I need a work visa, not a business visa. I have no idea how to go about getting one, let alone if the paperwork will come through in time. It will also mean paying up to 40% taxes out of my MA fund.
Getting my current visa was one of the most stressful times of my life. And now I get to go through it all over again. It's going to be both uncertain and expensive, costing money I didn't have back then and I still don't have now.
I'm teaching my worst class today, 11 and 12-year-olds who speak no English and don't want to do drama. There are going to be 6 of them, more than I've ever had before.
And the cherry on the cake?
I just got a text informing me that the 6th child, the newbie, will be bringing his father along because it'll be a test lesson. His father is a cameraman and is going to film it. FILM IT.

Fuck my life. I'm not even kidding. Fuck my life.

Tuesday, 13 September 2011

Children

Moscow: Week 2, Day 3

I'm having the opposite problem to usual at the moment: too much is happening in between blog posts! In the last week, I've gained a job, lost a job, lost a job, gained a job...and still don't really understand my current employment status... On top of that moods have been up and down all over the place, it's very confusing.

The main job I came out here to do (looking after an 8-year-old boy, though I think for some reason I said he was 7 in my last post) is no longer on: the kid is impossible, and even for the suggested pay I'm not experienced enough to risk taking it. Besides, lessons couldn't take place in the family home as planned, and there wouldn't really be anywhere else to do it... The good news is I've got a different job with a very cute 2-and-a-half-year-old girl, whom I don't have to look after cos her mum is always there, I just have to literally be there and speak English at her. The pay is lower, but the job is manageable, so whatevs!

The other job change has been with the drama school. I was meant to teach adult classes as well as kids' classes, but having had one go with the kids I had to pull out. I'm not really sure why. It's partly how tiring and stressful it is, trying to keep 6 kids occupied doing drama games in a language they can't really speak, giving them instructions they don't understand. I kept checking my watch and thinking 'jesus, has it really only been 5 minutes?'

The other reason is harder to pin down. There's something about being with groups of children, and I don't know why it's only when they're in big groups, that makes me feel...not old, but far far away from childhood. They're so full of energy and enthusiasm, curiosity and happiness. Happiness above all. And I'm so, well, not.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not nearly as miserable as I have been in the past. But being surrounded by children somehow hammers home how serious I've become, how unable to be spontaneous and gleeful. Unable to not give a shit about whether people are watching or judging me. Because I do give a shit, I can't help it.

Even being with Tasya (my new 2-year-old) makes me feel it. In a way she has the opposite effect; being around a child can lighten your heart and remind you of that innocent way of seeing the world, but after a while I find it wears off and I start noticing how my cheeks hurt from smiling, and I can't be bothered to say anything else like it's exciting. Is it just me or do you guys find being with children is like this?

I have been busy this week, but somehow have also had some time to myself. I'm not appreciating it very much because of the stress, and because for reasons not quite known I keep finding myself wanting to burst into tears. (If I'm alone, I do.) Processing the overdose is a slow business, it seems, having started a few weeks ago but been put on hold by the move. Now it's recommencing, and I'm not really sure how to handle it. Crying helps but isn't a solution. Remembering is painful but necessary; I want to make sure it remains a 'normal' memory, as my mind has been known to fuck things up in that regard and I don't want any more blanks or flashbacks.

But as ever, life goes on. And there's no stress can't be battled with fanfiction =P

Monday, 5 September 2011

Moscow: Day 2

Yo y'all! So, here I am, in Moscow. Whod'a thunk?

I've just spent probably the most stressful few weeks of my life trying to get here, battling with bureaucracy and fucking idiots who were acting on my behalf, but not in my interest. Seriously, I was losing faith in the world and its ability to contain people who are either kind or at least vaguely intelligent. And by vaguely intelligent, I mean things like, able to predict that if they don't give me the information I need to fill in my visa application correctly, I probably won't get a visa. Etc.

I couldn't really see any point in blogging because it would have just been a rant at the amount of people trying to screw money and time out of me.  Two banks have had a go at the former, 3 Russian organisations at the latter. Seriously, I'm up to here with it. *indicated point well above head*

But after all that, I made it at last. Flew in on Saturday, and had the evening to settle into my new flat with my flatmate Lena, though not her fiancé Paulus who will also be living with us, because he's currently at home in Lithuania where they're getting married later this month.

We went to the supermarket to pick up a few things, which was a little stressful but not too bad because we mostly agreed on what to buy. We also got a watermelon from the watermelon man outside our building that weighed about as much as a toddler, and was so big it wouldn't fit in the sink so we had to rinse it in the bath. I lol'd.

So yesterday was my first full day. I went to the drama school where I'll be working, and it seems a nice little place. It's got 3 teaching rooms, including one that doubles up as a photography studio, and a wee theatre that surprisingly seats up to 50.

I was halfway through a discussion with Martin (the big English cheese) when I was approached by Natasha (the big Russian cheese) and asked if I'd help them do some advertising on the streets, because yesterday was Moscow's birthday and there were loads of people out and about for the celebrations. She suggested that I do it in costume with them, and I idiotically agreed.... Half an hour later, I'm standing in a crowded park dressed in a bright orange dog costume, handing out flyers. When they said they wanted to draw attention to themselves, I hadn't quite appreciated how much attention they were intending to draw.... At least the kiddies seemed to appreciate me....

Luckily I was saved after about an hour by a potential new pupil coming to audition back at the studio, so Martin and I went back to meet him. Cute enough kid, 7 years old, and seemingly game for this acting malarky. Then I met an older pupil - about my age, I'd say - called Sergei, who was practising a monologue for that night's English Evening at a local bar. I helped him out a bit, very impressed that he had memorised a Shakespearean speech, and then we all went down to the bar to set up. How it seems to work is, this guy Alexei who is a world-class flamenco guitar player (and really is very good) plays his guitar for about half an hour while people interested in speaking English arrive; everyone chats for a while, then Sergei does his piece (I gather there are normally more little performances of that kind); then the other native speakers and I get up on the stage and introduce ourselves before a round of speed-English. Like speed-dating, except you're just speaking English to each other in the 3 minutes you get before the bell rings and you change partners.

I was hesitant to go, not really wanting to spend a lot of time speaking English, but I did get some new Russian friends out of it who are apparently happy to speak Russian with me another time, so all was not lost. Got home at about midnight, had some dinner finally with my flatmate and her best friend Olga who had driven us home, and so to bed. I have to say, for a first day, I don't think I did too badly. 24 hours and I'd already started working and acquired more friends than I could count on my fingers.

Today is day 2: started with a phone call from the mother of the little boy I'm teaching English to, arranging to meet at 12:30. When I rang at 10 the kid was still in bed apparently, so I don't know what kind of school he goes to because normally all Russian schools start on September 1st... Anyway, I'll be off there in a minute. Then a business lunch type thing in the restaurant of the theatre where Martin and I will be working, meeting...oh, I can't remember, some person of significance. Possibly someone looking to join the drama school, possibly someone connected with the melodeclamation performance Martin is doing there in a couple of weeks (which he apparently wants me to stage manage, news to me!)

So, off I pop. La'ers! xxx