Life can change in the blink of an eye. You know that I know that.
I'm tired. I'm tired of having to adapt to new, overwhelming situations.
I've heard I can. I've heard I'm strong. I've heard I'll get through.
Chase your dreams.
You can do anything you put your mind to.
Lies.
The truth is, I can't.
I'm not strong enough right now. I can't muster up energy that isn't there. I can't push myself like I want to. Sometimes I can't get out of bed in the morning. Except I do. Somehow. I rise. and eat, and go to class. Sometimes I pay attention.
I'm in a show. We open tomorrow.
Finals are coming up. Since I'm at a theatre school, most of them are performances I'm not ready for.
The next four weeks stretch out in a daunting array of tasks to complete.
Have I mentioned I'm tired?
Maybe this sounds like I'm complaining.
Maybe I am. I know I chose this program, I had a good idea of what I was embarking on. But you can't always foresee what will happen. The challenge lies in the unexpected.
I'm discovering my fragility, and have the responsibility to respond to what my body, my soul, my heart is telling me.
I can't.
Most of the work that happens here is emotional, internal. We're taught awareness and breath. Listen to instincts. Respond to your scene partner. Be affected.
What happens when my instinct is to sleep?
Yet, I go on. There is no stopping. I marvel at the human body and mind. What it's capable of withstanding. What I'm able handle. Somewhere, deep inside me lies resiliency.
So, of course, I wrote a poem. Maybe not where I'm at right now, but where I hope to be.
Resiliency.
When shadows come to shroud my joy
The sun sinks as sleep escapes
I lie in shades of darkness
Dream bring no respite
One thing comes to rescue
The uncanny gift
Resiliency
I stretch my hands to stop the time
From marching regimentedly
But it continues, putting distance
Between me and what has hurt me
Unasked, it heals
Granting
Resiliency
Friday 25 November 2016
Friday 14 October 2016
To Tree and Poppy
Firsts
Life can change in the blink of an eye
Some things I saw coming,
Some took me by surprise
Full of very last first times
Tour guiding, music writing, line memorizing
Opening night
Hiking and sunshine
First date
Long drives, late nights
Lives colliding
The bird who became a sister
Secrets kept and spilled
Shared giggles
Dreams born
Morphed
Knowing smiles
Dinners cooked and eaten side by side
Movies past midnight
Special songs, goodnights and good mornings
Goodbyes
Distance
Before you go, let’s eat one more cyclone
Talk about the road we’ve walked
Probing the depths of each other’s hearts;
Boys, found and lost
Faith and God
The summer we never wanted to stop
Long hugs
The ache of seasons change
Of what I’m not supposed to miss
New beginnings
Classes and auditions
Lines, scenes, and songs
The process once more begins
Fresh challenges
Phone tag
One month in, some things haven’t changed
In the blink of an eye
Six months of my life
Friday 20 May 2016
Accepted and Fragmented
It's been nearly three weeks.
The letter came.
I'm in the Mentorship Acting Programme!
But I barely had time to register that fact in the swirling soup of my brain.
May 2nd I began training for my summer job; leading tours at the Atlas Coal Mine! Plus, I was doing a dance show that week.
Second week of May, rehearsals for a friend's final project began.
If you haven't heard from me lately, it's probably because I've been running and running and trying to keep my head above water. Ha! And I though school was busy. I think in a way, school prepared me for this new level of crazy. The end is in sight, though. My month of racing from work to rehearsal to bed to work to rehearsal to bed to work to. . is ending soon. The show goes up June 3, and closes June 5th. I'll (hopefully!) be able to resume my social life, and maybe get some time to myself, to sort out the fragments of thoughts and emotions I keep hitting the snooze button on, because there simply isn't time to feel right now.
Prayer would be appreciated!
The letter came.
I'm in the Mentorship Acting Programme!
But I barely had time to register that fact in the swirling soup of my brain.
May 2nd I began training for my summer job; leading tours at the Atlas Coal Mine! Plus, I was doing a dance show that week.
Second week of May, rehearsals for a friend's final project began.
If you haven't heard from me lately, it's probably because I've been running and running and trying to keep my head above water. Ha! And I though school was busy. I think in a way, school prepared me for this new level of crazy. The end is in sight, though. My month of racing from work to rehearsal to bed to work to rehearsal to bed to work to. . is ending soon. The show goes up June 3, and closes June 5th. I'll (hopefully!) be able to resume my social life, and maybe get some time to myself, to sort out the fragments of thoughts and emotions I keep hitting the snooze button on, because there simply isn't time to feel right now.
Prayer would be appreciated!
Friday 8 April 2016
Thoughts Collided Part 2 (Post Audition Ramblings)
Precisely three years ago today, Esther, age 17, arrived in Rosebud for her scout week.
What a week it was. Full of discovery, new experiences, and comfort levels challenged. I left Rosebud certain of one thing: I wanted to come back.
At 1:30 today I had a maybe-life-changing-but-not-really-but-actually-it-could-be audition.
Today I auditioned for the Acting Programme.
I'm caught in the tension of knowing that the audition isn't the definitive factor of whether or not I'm accepted, but still, it feels big.
I've never done anything like this before. I think about what I prepared for my talent assessment three years ago, and what I did today, and marvel. I've come a long way, which is why I want to continue honing my acting skills. There's a high that comes from performing, that only comes from performing. I put a lot of work into my audition pieces, and yet, I know there's more.
There will always be more.
Which is why I'm here, (in Rosebud) why I'm going to be nervous and anxious and trying not dissect every beat of my audition, and swing from convincing myself that I did something wrong, I'm not getting in, to absolute certainty this is where I belong.
Because I want more.
Maybe this is confusing. Let me explain.
In Rosebud, you do a Scout Week, which ends in a talent assessment and interview. That gets you into the Certificate year. Once you finish Cert, you have to choose one of the mentorship programmes to apply for (Acting, Theatre Arts, Technical Theatre, or Music.)
You write a statement of purpose (see my past post) have an audition, and an interview.
Everything clear?
Good.
I still have my interview left, then I wait till the first week of May.
And yes, I know it's only as big a deal as I make it, and I'm starting to ramble, but that's okay. It's been an eventful day.
The thought of committing to another 1-3 years here is intimidating. What do I think I'm doing? Acting isn't know for being stable, well paying, or other things you look for in a job.
I want more.
Something in me is being called, and today I made the choice to publicly say yes.
Yes, I want to be in the acting programme. Yes, I want to stay in Rosebud. Yes, I can handle myself in an audition. I better get used to it.
I'm not finished with Rosebud. I think Rosebud isn't finished with me.
What a week it was. Full of discovery, new experiences, and comfort levels challenged. I left Rosebud certain of one thing: I wanted to come back.
At 1:30 today I had a maybe-life-changing-but-not-really-but-actually-it-could-be audition.
Today I auditioned for the Acting Programme.
I'm caught in the tension of knowing that the audition isn't the definitive factor of whether or not I'm accepted, but still, it feels big.
I've never done anything like this before. I think about what I prepared for my talent assessment three years ago, and what I did today, and marvel. I've come a long way, which is why I want to continue honing my acting skills. There's a high that comes from performing, that only comes from performing. I put a lot of work into my audition pieces, and yet, I know there's more.
There will always be more.
Which is why I'm here, (in Rosebud) why I'm going to be nervous and anxious and trying not dissect every beat of my audition, and swing from convincing myself that I did something wrong, I'm not getting in, to absolute certainty this is where I belong.
Because I want more.
Maybe this is confusing. Let me explain.
In Rosebud, you do a Scout Week, which ends in a talent assessment and interview. That gets you into the Certificate year. Once you finish Cert, you have to choose one of the mentorship programmes to apply for (Acting, Theatre Arts, Technical Theatre, or Music.)
You write a statement of purpose (see my past post) have an audition, and an interview.
Everything clear?
Good.
I still have my interview left, then I wait till the first week of May.
And yes, I know it's only as big a deal as I make it, and I'm starting to ramble, but that's okay. It's been an eventful day.
The thought of committing to another 1-3 years here is intimidating. What do I think I'm doing? Acting isn't know for being stable, well paying, or other things you look for in a job.
I want more.
Something in me is being called, and today I made the choice to publicly say yes.
Yes, I want to be in the acting programme. Yes, I want to stay in Rosebud. Yes, I can handle myself in an audition. I better get used to it.
I'm not finished with Rosebud. I think Rosebud isn't finished with me.
Thoughts Collided
I cleaned my room today. I wrote my statement of purpose last Friday. I took a personality quiz. I'm going to throw unrelated paragraphs at you, and in the end, it will all make sense.
I found a scrap of paper while cleaning my room. It's probably 13 years old. Here's what it said,
"Third Culture Kid (TCK)
Definition:
An individual who, having spent a significant part of the developmental years in a culture other than the parent's culture, develops a sense of relationship to all cultures, while not having full ownership in any.
Elements from each culture are incorporated into the life experience, but the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of similar experience."
Here's a snippet of my statement of purpose. More on that later.
The personality quiz? I'm an ENFP-T. 92% extrovert. I wasn't expecting that. The past few months I've been wandering along, believing I'm an extrovert super close to the introverted end of the spectrum. Ambivert, is the term.
I'm taking the information with a grain of salt. I know myself better than an online test, done quickly at the end a of a long day. But, I didn't have time to stress over answers, I just clicked what felt right. Which made a lot of sense when my results popped up as 72% feeling.
What do these things have in common?
ME! Of course.
But seriously, I hadn't thought about the TCK thing in a long time. And acting school is all about figuring (or trying) to figure out how humans act, and why they do what they do. Being a human, that includes figuring out the mystery that is me.
Tell me about your childhood. . .
The definition at the top of the page says it all. Sometimes I've described myself as a chameleon, I can figure out groups and how to interact with them fairly well. I don't get cultural references. I thought it was because of homeschooling, but that's only part of the equation. I know a little bit about a lot of things.
But belonging?
I've looked for it, longed for it, and thought I'd found it. I have, to some extent. But do you know how hard it is to find Canadians who moved to Mexico when they were 2, and grew up as homeschooled TCKs?
Yeah, I gave up on that. Of course, I've had friends, wonderful, amazing, deep relationships, that I treasure. If you're reading this, you're probably one of them.
But there's this sense that I don't quite fit in.
It's true. I'm a mishmash of Mexican and Canadian. Always have been, always will be.
I like it. Spend any amount of time with me, and you'll find I'm an expressive person. I use my whole body to react to things. I talk with my hands. Some of that is growing up in Mexico, as they are a highly expressive culture.
92 percent extrovert, though.
Things are making sense.
One places where I've felt the most at home is theatre.
Hence Rosebud. My statement of purpose/poem.
Out of all the places that I've thought I belonged, Rosebud is home.
For now.
I found a scrap of paper while cleaning my room. It's probably 13 years old. Here's what it said,
"Third Culture Kid (TCK)
Definition:
An individual who, having spent a significant part of the developmental years in a culture other than the parent's culture, develops a sense of relationship to all cultures, while not having full ownership in any.
Elements from each culture are incorporated into the life experience, but the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of similar experience."
Here's a snippet of my statement of purpose. More on that later.
Teach me, please, I want to know how to act and move and sing, telling story with every fibre of my being. This hunger, this need for the stage has been awakened; the endless adventures it offers, and I'm longing to embark on.
Show me the tools, and how to use them. I have a voice, a brain, a body. What does it mean to be seen? This craft drives me crazy, it scares me, what if I’m wasting my time?
But the very thing that causes my insanity keeps me sane. The stage helps to satisfy my curiosity, keeping me safe.
I remember my dad telling stories, thrilling tales of the times he’s spent alone in the wilderness, embellishing the details to a wide eyed girl of eight.
It must be in my DNA.
I’ve been told, don’t do it unless you need to, have to, couldn't, wouldn't do anything else.
It’s true.
I’ve imagined life without the thrill of figuring out how to move, talk, think, and feel like my character, all the while bringing pieces of myself to the table.
Please don’t ask me to live a life of 9-5, steady paying, weekends off, predictability.
For me, that is insanity. The personality quiz? I'm an ENFP-T. 92% extrovert. I wasn't expecting that. The past few months I've been wandering along, believing I'm an extrovert super close to the introverted end of the spectrum. Ambivert, is the term.
I'm taking the information with a grain of salt. I know myself better than an online test, done quickly at the end a of a long day. But, I didn't have time to stress over answers, I just clicked what felt right. Which made a lot of sense when my results popped up as 72% feeling.
What do these things have in common?
ME! Of course.
But seriously, I hadn't thought about the TCK thing in a long time. And acting school is all about figuring (or trying) to figure out how humans act, and why they do what they do. Being a human, that includes figuring out the mystery that is me.
Tell me about your childhood. . .
The definition at the top of the page says it all. Sometimes I've described myself as a chameleon, I can figure out groups and how to interact with them fairly well. I don't get cultural references. I thought it was because of homeschooling, but that's only part of the equation. I know a little bit about a lot of things.
But belonging?
I've looked for it, longed for it, and thought I'd found it. I have, to some extent. But do you know how hard it is to find Canadians who moved to Mexico when they were 2, and grew up as homeschooled TCKs?
Yeah, I gave up on that. Of course, I've had friends, wonderful, amazing, deep relationships, that I treasure. If you're reading this, you're probably one of them.
But there's this sense that I don't quite fit in.
It's true. I'm a mishmash of Mexican and Canadian. Always have been, always will be.
I like it. Spend any amount of time with me, and you'll find I'm an expressive person. I use my whole body to react to things. I talk with my hands. Some of that is growing up in Mexico, as they are a highly expressive culture.
92 percent extrovert, though.
Things are making sense.
One places where I've felt the most at home is theatre.
Hence Rosebud. My statement of purpose/poem.
Out of all the places that I've thought I belonged, Rosebud is home.
For now.
Wednesday 10 February 2016
Confusion, Tears, and Dancing with a Dinosaur
Phew. I haven't written like this a awhile. Raw, honest, unafraid. I love writing poetry. I love hiding behind my words, leaving it up to you to figure out what I mean.
I am confused.
I've cried more in the past week than I have since diagnosis.
Weird, because I don't cry. (Sometimes I joke that cancer used up all my tears, or maybe it's the meds that suppress my emotions. I don't cry.)
I saw a show last Thursday titled Sarah and the Dinosaur: A play about a girl, her cancer, and a dinosaur.
Cancer used up all my tears? Ha.
Nope. I cried for about ten (?) minutes after the show ended. It was honest, and real. I related to almost every scene. It was uncanny how similar our experiences were, or maybe it's just a survivor thing?
The cryptic phone message? Check.
Quitting your job? Uh-huh.
Being one of the few who doesn't lose their hair and "look sick"? Yup.
I could go on. In fact, I will.
There are the best intentioned people who try and try to heal you. A fridge full of lettuce, weird diets. Your mom having to do all the gross stuff. Bedpans, bathing, it's like you're an infant again. Except this time, you can talk, and have been independent for the past 18 years of your life.
In the last scene, Sarah dances with her dinosaur. She's realized he's never going to leave. She has to learn to live with it.
Sometimes I forget it happened, then in movement, I'll point my toe, and my scar rudely reminds me, "Hey, Esther, your last surgery was in June!"
Can I say this? Me, the tower of hope and optimism, (well, sometimes) can I say that I'm scared?
Frightened that Cancer might get hungry again, and find my cells tasty.
Again.
Sometimes I wonder if where I am right now is the eye of a storm, and I'm holding my breath for. . .
Don't think about it.
These are the things I didn't know, until I sat down and wrote.
I'm confused.
Why did the play make me cry?
Am I wallowing?
Shouldn't I be okay by now?
Why am I still talking about this?
I recorded an album, for crying out loud. Isn't that therapy enough?
Why can't I put this all behind?
Why did the play make me cry?
I cried, because folks, I'm dancing with a dinosaur.
Or, as I put it in a post last year: There Was No Funeral
Yes, I acknowledged that things were different, but then I released an EP, had surgery, performed in two Winnipeg Fringe shows, and moved to Rosebud.
I was determined to prove myself, to show that I had overcome huge obstacles, and could do the program.
I talk about it; everyone asks how you came to Rosebud, The staff knew. I've been waiting three years to get here. Everyone knows I had cancer.
But I left the theatre last week burning, aching to tell my story. To be asked how the play impacted me. I wanted to explain that what we witnessed on stage had also taken place in my living room.
I've told my story on radio, TV, and in newspapers. But they only want sound bytes, the encouraging stuff, so that's what I focused on.
Have I told you about the ugly parts?
Read back over my blog, and you'll see them.
When can I talk about it? I'm afraid of my story, in it's entirety, being too much to handle. I use humour to diffuse the truth.
Nobody really wants to know all that stuff.
But, what can I do with all the memories that have been stirred up?
As my acting instructors would say, bring that into the room with you.
How?
Now I'm rambling. I don't have answers. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow, and wonder what the hell I was thinking to post this. But, I've been challenged lately to be honest, so here it is, the dis-jointed sentences, confused, tired, ugly-honest.
Me.
I am confused.
I've cried more in the past week than I have since diagnosis.
Weird, because I don't cry. (Sometimes I joke that cancer used up all my tears, or maybe it's the meds that suppress my emotions. I don't cry.)
I saw a show last Thursday titled Sarah and the Dinosaur: A play about a girl, her cancer, and a dinosaur.
Cancer used up all my tears? Ha.
Nope. I cried for about ten (?) minutes after the show ended. It was honest, and real. I related to almost every scene. It was uncanny how similar our experiences were, or maybe it's just a survivor thing?
The cryptic phone message? Check.
Quitting your job? Uh-huh.
Being one of the few who doesn't lose their hair and "look sick"? Yup.
I could go on. In fact, I will.
There are the best intentioned people who try and try to heal you. A fridge full of lettuce, weird diets. Your mom having to do all the gross stuff. Bedpans, bathing, it's like you're an infant again. Except this time, you can talk, and have been independent for the past 18 years of your life.
In the last scene, Sarah dances with her dinosaur. She's realized he's never going to leave. She has to learn to live with it.
Sometimes I forget it happened, then in movement, I'll point my toe, and my scar rudely reminds me, "Hey, Esther, your last surgery was in June!"
Can I say this? Me, the tower of hope and optimism, (well, sometimes) can I say that I'm scared?
Frightened that Cancer might get hungry again, and find my cells tasty.
Again.
Sometimes I wonder if where I am right now is the eye of a storm, and I'm holding my breath for. . .
Don't think about it.
These are the things I didn't know, until I sat down and wrote.
I'm confused.
Why did the play make me cry?
Am I wallowing?
Shouldn't I be okay by now?
Why am I still talking about this?
I recorded an album, for crying out loud. Isn't that therapy enough?
Why can't I put this all behind?
Why did the play make me cry?
I cried, because folks, I'm dancing with a dinosaur.
Or, as I put it in a post last year: There Was No Funeral
Yes, I acknowledged that things were different, but then I released an EP, had surgery, performed in two Winnipeg Fringe shows, and moved to Rosebud.
I was determined to prove myself, to show that I had overcome huge obstacles, and could do the program.
I talk about it; everyone asks how you came to Rosebud, The staff knew. I've been waiting three years to get here. Everyone knows I had cancer.
But I left the theatre last week burning, aching to tell my story. To be asked how the play impacted me. I wanted to explain that what we witnessed on stage had also taken place in my living room.
I've told my story on radio, TV, and in newspapers. But they only want sound bytes, the encouraging stuff, so that's what I focused on.
Have I told you about the ugly parts?
Read back over my blog, and you'll see them.
When can I talk about it? I'm afraid of my story, in it's entirety, being too much to handle. I use humour to diffuse the truth.
Nobody really wants to know all that stuff.
But, what can I do with all the memories that have been stirred up?
As my acting instructors would say, bring that into the room with you.
How?
Now I'm rambling. I don't have answers. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow, and wonder what the hell I was thinking to post this. But, I've been challenged lately to be honest, so here it is, the dis-jointed sentences, confused, tired, ugly-honest.
Me.
Thursday 7 January 2016
Untitled
In your darkness, how can I help?
I wish is was as simple as a turned switch
But I know the night, and it is not for me to fix
What can I do?
The path you walk, I cannot light
But I can come alongside
Take your hand
Whisper words of love that heal
I will not force you faster towards the end
I may be able to see
But for now
I know you can only
Lift and set down your feet as you go
I will not leave, though I know there are things
You must fight on your own
I cannot make you whole
But I will stand here, until my body
Is cold
Strengthened by the Love who will not let me go
I give myself to restore
I wish is was as simple as a turned switch
But I know the night, and it is not for me to fix
What can I do?
The path you walk, I cannot light
But I can come alongside
Take your hand
Whisper words of love that heal
I will not force you faster towards the end
I may be able to see
But for now
I know you can only
Lift and set down your feet as you go
I will not leave, though I know there are things
You must fight on your own
I cannot make you whole
But I will stand here, until my body
Is cold
Strengthened by the Love who will not let me go
I give myself to restore
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