Fifth Day of Summer

Thank you to every friend and family member I talked to today. For some reason, maybe something is in the new Britta filters, today turned into emotional Friday for all of us. By all of us, I mean the grad students that are here right now. Unfortunately I found out tonight that I will not be walking at my graduation unless I take out another student loan. Congratulations! Here's a piece of paper. Now give us more money!! That's not why I was upset. I could care less.

Something hit me the moment I woke up this morning and saw all the postings on facebook for graduation. I don't even do that for 2 more years but it hit me like a ton of bricks. Jealousy raged through me with sprinkles of scared shitless. I remember June of 1998 when I put my cap on my cascading flow of hair on my head and knew I'd be leaving for NYC in September. I remember the hopes, dreams, confidence, girlfriend, doubts, and carefree attitude I had then. 13 years later, all of those have changed. Not for the worse, but they definitely have changed.

Referring back to my previous entries, I always have a pool of anxiety brewing in me because the world is moving forward and opportunities are continuing to blossom everywhere. More times than not, I haven't taken advantage or run away. I'm going to be graduating in 2 years...again....with the world at my feet and dreaming of what I want to happen. The problem is I feel I sort of failed the first time and now I'm going to have to face it again with a 50/50 chance of it happening again. People will argue with me that I have accomplished a lot, but there's still a gaping hole inside me that hasn't been filled. I do and I don't know what it will take to fill that.

Then my buddy, my chum, my partner in crime, Alex, left with his beautiful girlfriend to California tonight and I'll see them again in August. I feel like I lost part of myself tonight that LA gets to have for the meantime. This is the person I feel pushes me the most here and I'm scared I might take a step back.

My roommate is amazing and has put up with my shit for the past month or so. She has her own struggles but puts up with everyone elses on top of them. She's a rock. She's not a therapist but hears whatever fucked up hell that is going through my mind at any given moment and hasn't called anyone to come admit me to the loony bin.

"If we imbibe....a belief in the perfectibility of art and the artist, we will be hard pressed in later life to adopt a more practicable view. Art is about the spontaneous connection of the artist and his own unconscious- about insight beyond reason. If his insight is reasonable, anyone could do it, but anyone cannot. Only a few can, and they are called artists...... Drama is a mystery. It is the exploration of the unconscious. ....There is, in truth, no "emotion" work or "preparation" done by the actor that can be better than his spontaneity." David Mamet, Theatre.

It is at these moments I feel my creative mind is at its best, but goddamn it hurts so much. I feel like I'm Antonin Artaud resurrected at times. My job is to entertain. My job is to give the audience something new. My job is to allow the audience to feel or think or free their mind. My job is to create life.

What do you do with a degree in theater? There is no answer to that. It's whatever you want to do with it. Do you want to become a waiter? You will. Do you want to become the next Kerry Butler or Kevin Kline? You will. Do you want to become the next Neil Labute or David Yazbeck? You will.

My problem has been that I have never raised the bar enough for myself. I became a waiter. I became a preschool teacher. I became a bartender. I became a facebook stalker. I became a personal trainer. I became a photographer. I became a boyfriend. I became a roommate. I became a studier of improv. I became an audition expert. I became a coach. I became a taker of acting classes. I became a blogger. I became a caterer. I became an audience member. I became a New Yorker. What was missing? I didn't become the artist I always wanted to become. I didn't find/pursue/or maintain the kind of love I longed for. I didn't write a show. I didn't take control of the stage when I could. I never wrote the guitar songs I wanted to. I never spent most of my day creating.

My entire faith and trust falls into the thought that "IT ISN'T TOO LATE". I know I'm not old, but I do find myself wrestling with myself on it. I know I have so much life ahead of me. I'm smarter. I'm handsome. I'm fucking hysterical. I'm driven. I'm passionate. I'm spontaneous. I'm athletic. I have common sense. I'm inspiring. I care. I'm a wonderful human being.

So......I've made mistakes and I've been scared. When do I raise the bar?