is this the post-college slump?
is this what it's supposed to feel like
to get out of college
and have no money to move forward?
"why are you still in cincinnati?" i get asked, all the time.
"i needed alone time." i say.
and i did, that's true.
it's the easiest way of saying
i found myself with no money after college
and no job.
and people don't see my "fruitions."
they don't see the "where i was/where i am now."
has no idea how far i've come
or what i'm working toward
or where i'm going.
so is this what in-between feels like?
is it supposed to feel like every day i'm practicing things i'd not like to practice?
that every day i'm practicing how not to hate my life working in a cubicle
how every day i'm practicing "optimism within constant disappointment?"
i refused to believe that this was my life.
i started working harder, finding any option i could.
i started waiting tables, and that helps.
but i still haven't been on stage in a year
and i still haven't booked anything in a year
and i still call myself an actor.
i still plan.
the plan is TO MOVE.
and to move,
i need money.
and to make money as efficiently as possible,
i need to work.
so i'm working.
i'm working a job that blatantly undervalues me.
"get a new job," some say.
"audition for this company," others say. "what are YOU doing to further your career?"
i do. i have. i'm always one step ahead of them.
Playhouse, Ensemble, Cincy Shakes. Actors' Theatre of Louisville, Dayton Human Race. Internships, Shows, Company Members. LPK, Cincy Zoo, Newport Aquarium. University of Cincinnati.
now i find myself in a rut. a rut that stretches far, far ahead of me, as i practice "working in an office," and "waiting tables." a rut that has no career path, no career ladder, nothing, because it isn't what i loved or what i learned when i went to school.
it's a rut i'm trudging through while i save money to leave.
"well, what can you be doing here that you could do before moving to LA," aaron asks. he looks at me skeptically, and i see that he sees me doing nothing, he sees me stagnant.
"i'm doing all that i can," i say, and i sigh, because of what he does not know about me, because of the things in my life he has no frame of reference for. i remember again that my boyfriend sees me achieving nothing, none of my goals, and that he didn't meet me early enough to see me when they were on fire. it's too complicated to explain the biz to someone who has this point of view on me, too complicated to explain how relevant the here and now of what i'm doing is for my future.
so i'm left with a quiet voice, no outlet.
i'm too tired to justify myself to those that don't get me.
that is not worth my time.
and yet, my actions do nothing to speak for me.
my actions are The Rut, the waiting, the wheel of continual disappointment.
"so working your office job kills your soul?" aaron asks.
i know he doesn't understand.
and he can't
and he won't
and my options are limited.
i saw a play last night.
"thunder knocking on the door" at playhouse in the park in cincinnati,
and it was AMAZING.
i felt on fire.
i watched the actors onstage,
and i pretended that i was doing what they were doing.
i felt their arms reaching up
i felt their dialogue sinking into each other
i felt their feet walking the ground, swishing in dresses, bathing in tech light.
i felt on fire/
i weeped through the entire performance.
THERE is my life
but i'm living it over here.
"someone give me a role!" i beg, silently
and i feel idiotic, and naive, all at once, all the time.
an actor among MILLIONS yearning to speak out, to have a part, to live.
my first step is to Move.
to move i need money.
for money i need time + a job.
for a job, i continue The Rut.