Yesterday was my last acting class for this semester.  I’m not going to lie; I seriously considered not showing up.  I had skipped last week’s class since I had just gotten in from out of town and didn’t feel like sitting for three hours getting lectured at.  Besides, I didn’t know my monologue and scene as much as I wanted.  I’d figured I’d have the entire week to perfect my scenes, but of course, that didn’t happen.  I was terrified of performing, even in front of only 10 people.  I knew that if I didn’t go, I would be a quitter and a coward, and I’m against living a cowardly life.  I’ve run from things that were scary to me too many times in the past.  I was determined to go through with this.

Still, I had been a little frustrated with the class. My teacher tended to lecture and take things way too seriously.  I can understand if we were in a competitive acting program, like Juilliard, but we were in a community college acting class, which had a motley group of mothers and full-time employees and college students.  Most of us would never even attempt professional acting, but were just in it for fun.  Going to these classes were supposed to be enjoyable.  Getting lectured at like I’m back in high school is not enjoyable.

An hour before class, I was sitting in my car, reading over the scripts.  I had the monologue memorized, even with my bad Southern accent, but didn’t have my other scene memorized fully.  My scene partner showed up and we practiced.  She told me that the class I had missed had not been good.  My teacher had gotten upset at the scene performances and apparently told the class that some of them were not meant for acting.  My partner said that one girl had gotten so upset that she didn’t want to come back, but my partner had convinced her to come back. This made me nervous but I told my partner that we should just have fun with it and not worry about it, since this class was supposed to be fun anyway.

We had to perform monologues first, and I made the choice to go last.  I learned that my instructor is usually more critical of the people who go first, and they have to do their scenes over and over again.  Everyone did a good job with their monologues.  Mine was Maggie from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.  In the scene, she is talking to her husband Brick about how her in-laws and how much she dislikes her sister-in-law.  I went up and started, “Big Daddy dotes on you honey…” and skipped over the next line in nervousness. I told my teacher I had to start again. She had given us permission to start over before we started, so she nodded approvingly.  I stood with my face against the wall, thinking, “Get it together Jenny, get it together Jenny.  You KNOW this.”  I started over and this time went through my monologue without a hitch.  I found myself getting lost in the character and it reminded me of the joy of acting and why I had started taking this class in the first place.  No matter what my teacher was going to say about my performance, she couldn’t take that away from me.

Everyone clapped at the end, and my teacher said I had done a good job. I talked too fast (even though I had tried not to), but she was kinder about it this time.  She also gave me advice about doing my scene in front of a mirror, to make it more obvious with certain movements.

During our break, a classmate came up to me and told me that he thought I had done a great job. He said that he knew I was looking into a mirror.  At one point in my monologue, Maggie is discussing how her father-in-law looks lecherously at her boobs when she talks to him, so I adjusted my bra at this point and then sashayed into the chair (which was an unconscious movement). He really liked that choice.

Next, I had to perform a scene from Steel Magnolias.   I played Shelby, and the scene was where she tells her mother she is pregnant.  My partner forgot some of her lines but luckily I recognized the cues and was able to insert various parts of the scene into the cues.  I don’t think anyone noticed that we had only performed half the scene.  I didn’t care at this point – I was happy to just have the performance out of the way.  My teacher again was complimentary, saying I brought a lot of youth and energy to the role.  She said that I was talking too fast (again), but again was kind about it, saying that she understood how difficult it is to talk slower when you naturally have a fast internal rhythm, like I do.

At the end she gave us homemade cake and gave me a big hug, telling me to come back and to stick with acting (I swear she’s the nicest lady when you aren’t performing in front of her).  She also told the whole class, “Wow, you guys came through! At the last minute!” which gave me a little idea of what I had missed.

I am very glad that I took this class. I learned a lot about myself.  I learned that I need to slow down my speech in public performances. I learned that I need to be pushed out of my comfort zoned, and that I really enjoy performing despite my stage fright.  I also learned that acting is a big commitment that shouldn’t be taken lightly. I probably won’t take another class until the next semester.  I might audition for a play but I will have to be sure I can commit to it.  I’ll still try and be an extra when I can (not on My Generation, that already got canceled, lol).  I still want to act in the future.  Who knows when this class will have come in handy?

Hey everyone.  Remember how I talked about working as an extra for two days on a TV show back in August?  Yeah, it was this one:

It is called My Generation and is premiering on ABC tonight at 8/7 central.  If I show up at all (which is almost improbable, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed), it won’t be until the fourth or fifth episodes.  BUT I don’t want this show canceled before my potential three seconds of fame, so PLEASE WATCH IT FOR ME.  Thank you

This song describes how I feel about it perfectly.

(Yes, Blue Oyster Cult actually does other songs besides “Don’t Fear the Reaper.”)

There is something about nighttime that I have always loved, even when I was a little girl.  There is no mystery in the daytime, there are no surprises –  you can see everything plainly, better or worse.  But the night always hold an element of wonder, a sense of adventure.  Anything can happen.  And when the night slips into the wee hours of the morning, sometimes you feel like you are the only person still awake.

I was thinking of this as I drove back from class tonight.  Fall was in the air, good tunes were on the radio – I felt like anything was possible.  I had an urge to keep on driving north on the interstate, just to see where it would take me.  But it’s Tuesday, which means I have work tomorrow and have to be downtown early and act semi-responsible.

I liked my class tonight.  We didn’t have to do our monologues or scenes, which is good.  I practiced my monologue all the way down to class (took an hour and fifteen minutes for a 30 minute trip – RIDICULOUS.)  My Southern accent continues to be absolutely hideous.  It is a cross between Scarlett O’Hara and Angela Lansbury.  My instructor was being a little hard on us in the beginning. We had to do various exercises, including one where we had to mirror our partners.  Many of us had the giggles, and our instructor lectured us because we had to take it seriously and focus, since we are actors and actresses.  But then once we stopped giggling and focused, she seemed much happier with us.  She took us outside and we had to close our eyes and listen to the sounds.  Downtown has such a cacophony that is easy to ignore when you’re around it all the time.  But closing my eyes made me feel vulnerable.  I thought if I were a blind person, how terrified I would be to have to deal with all these sounds everywhere.  Afterward we did breathing and body exercises.  One was oh-so-relaxing – we lay on the floor and in a soothing voice, she told us that each body part was now free of tension – the tongue, the eyelids, the toes.  I could have done that exercise for the entire class, let me tell you.

It is 11:47 and I am still, regrettably, wide awake.  Sometimes I wish I didn’t love the night so much so I could get myself to sleep at a decent time.