It's 3:09 in the afternoon. I am sitting in a studio with two other people who are, I suppose, working on their end of semester acting pieces.
I should do, but clearly I am not.
The afternoon is ours to work with- whether to work on the movement piece or the voice piece or the acting piece, it is entirely up to us. My afternoon started almost an hour ago. To say I've been faffing about would make it sound like I have done nothing. And in regards to work that I actually am supposed to be doing, I haven't, to be quite honest. Instead I started searching.
Maxinne on my lap, and the lights completely off, I have sat, mug of green tea by my side, and searched and looked for things that I want, things that I think I might need, places I think I'm supposed to be in because...
Because some part of me doesn't think I'm supposed to be here.
I wonder if I've been selling myself short, if, like my mother said I might, I am failing to give myself the chance to flourish here, and under these circumstances.
There are things that work for me here.
And, a lot of the time, when I think about what is to come I am excited. Beijing Opera next term, for one. Not that it's been a lifelong dream to learn Beijing Opera but simply that it will be interesting. As will be the harsh hand of Madam Lee. Already my body is remembering what it felt like to be in Chinese classes, but let's not go there just yet. I am afraid, you know. I am. But I am also excited about it because language might make it just a touch easier for me. Not that Kutiyattam wasn't, fortunately for us, our guru spoke English while Madam Lee will speak none.
Maybe it is that childish part of me that figures I might understand just a little bit more. But mostly I am excited because I've never been particularly culturally rooted in the least, and here is something I get to explore.
There will also be psycho-physical training towards the end of the year, and classes on dramaturgy which is what I am most keen on.
Don't you see? There are things that I am looking forward to. So much in the school that I am keen on, that I think I will only benefit from.
But Charis, the Charis who is the lego block that cannot transform quick enough from car to helicopter to dragon, is feeling the ache where bits of myself have been haphazardly lopped off in an effort to make me fit. And I won't say they've been sawed off, no- that implies an amount of time and effort dedicated to pulling an instrument back and forth, applying different amounts of pressure and force, which is most certainly not the case here.
I don't know if I can do it, but I want to stay the year, I do.
We are made up of a collection of choices, and every choice will have a consequence. Yes, sure, there is a whole lot waiting for me right outside. It's sitting on the edges of this construct and waiting, begging me almost, to come back to it. And I want to, oh believe me, I want to. And yet I am shackled to the thought of, but what happens when all of that runs out? What happens when my children are heading to University and half the century that is my life has gone by, and I don't know how much I can afford for them?
At the same time, you've either got it, or you don't right? If this isn't for me, no matter how hard I work, I won't be able to get as far as those who work just as hard but simply "have it".
Or maybe I'll get better as I go along. And getting better doesn't mean sitting here for the next three years.
You know, I keep trying to tell myself that three years is nothing, and will be nothing in the grander scheme of things, in comparison to the rest of my life and the years I will spend working.
But this is the thought I woke up with today:
If a car came hurtling toward me and left me for dead, would I be okay with leaving?
They always say that you reap the seeds you sow. And so, sow healthy lovely seeds, tend to them everyday, piling on just the right amount of fertilizer, of water, or sun. And then, when the time is right, you will harvest much.
But what if I never got to my time of harvest?
If I didn't get to my end point, I'd like to know that I was well on my way.
And technically speaking, yes I am now, just in this more formal setting.
I used to think, not too long ago, that if it was time for me to go, it'd be a huge shame but, even if I hadn't gotten to the full set up of my school and company, and didn't have my amazing children, and hadn't yet gotten an off-broadway project that I was working on, I was well on my way there.
And yes, this is supposed to be part of it, it is, but sometimes it doesn't feel like it. Well most times. And most times I just feel sad and find myself thinking about the next step, the next step, the next step.
And now I'm thinking,
if a car came hurtling toward me and left me for dead, I want to know that I tried my damnedest to get to a place I had in mind, even if I was taking a longer route, instead of knowing full well, that I'd woken up that morning wishing for that car to come at me.
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