Groping My Best Friend

There really needs to be an emoticon for "awkward turtle," the hand gesture some of us use when things feel 'awkward.'

Playing Wilbur Turnblad in Hairspray may have been the most fun I've had in years. The character is extravagant, bombastic, over the top... yet he has to be somehow sympathetic. At the end of the show, the audience has to accept him as essentially a "good guy," with good motives and a good heart. They don't have to think he's particularly intelligent and they don't have to admire him, but they need to like him and believe his love for his daughter Tracy and his wife Edna is true.

If you know the show, you know the challenges I faced. It was relatively straightforward to portray a father's love for his daughter, and it helped a lot that I already loved the two actors (Michelle and Erin) sharing the role of Tracy. The challenge was in convincingly portraying Wilbur's love for his wife.

Romantic love is a tough one for me to portray under any circumstances; I have very little life experience with it, so I don't really know how David exhibits that. If I don't even know how David embodies romantic love, how do I create a convincing characterization? And while that challenge was a significant one, it paled in comparison to the other challenge...

Wilbur's wife Edna is traditionally a drag role; a large man portrays a large woman in the play. While Edna is not a man in drag--she is all woman--the actor playing Edna is a man in drag.

See why I want an emoticon for "awkward turtle?"

Thank God Edna was being portrayed by my best friend. Neither of us is confused about our sexuality (although after portraying Edna, I'm beginning to wonder about Wayne... ;-)} ), and we're both pretty comfortable together both on- and off-stage. The script is well written and the situation already so ridiculous that we got to just play. I don't think either of us was worried that the other would misinterpret something we did, either, so just about anything was on the table.

There were some lines drawn--things that didn't contribute anything to our portrayal and were personally uncomfortable were scratched without much comment--but (as you know if you saw the show, particularly the last two performances) a lot of other things were fair game and we played them.

Hence the title of this blog entry.

The goal for both of us was to make our relationship sweet and sappy and above all else convincing, and if we can take audience comments seriously we pulled it off. Maybe it helped that as close friends, we are (another kind of) intimate in real life. Maybe we're just damn fine actors.

Or maybe it was the groping.

What Am I Afraid Of?

Sometimes I find myself stalled. I have good intentions, great ambition, lofty vision... but when I hit a road block, I find myself parked and idling, instead of navigating around the obstacle and getting back on track. And the longer I sit, the more likely I am to keep sitting.

This is what is colloquially know as a Bad Thing^TM.

This inertia has at various times impacted my professional effectiveness, not to mention my personal relationships. The effect it has had on my personal relationships is perhaps the most important to my sense of self and my satisfaction (or lack thereof) with my circumstances, while the effect it has had on my professional effectiveness contributes a dollop of guilt to the recipe of me.

It occurs to me as I write this that the inertia I referred to above is probably an additional symptom of my bone-deep sickness: depression. That's an important insight. I'm a functional depressive, and in the past I've taken great pride in the fact that I function pretty well without medication, but today it occurs to me that...

Maybe I shouldn't "settle" for just functioning. Maybe if I sought treatment for my depression, instead of just enduring it, I might be less likely to sit at that roadblock, car idling, and more likely to navigate around it and get back on the road. In my imagination, that's a good thing. in my imagination, that's the path to relationship happiness, and professional effectiveness, and...

It probably isn't a silver bullet, but really, what would it hurt to get treatment? Is it likely to make things worse than they are now?

I don't know, really. I don't even know why I'm so resistant; what am I afraid of?

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Shoot the Horse

Once upon a time there was a man who trained jumping horses. His methodology was quite simple: he would ride the horse toward the jump, and if the horse made the jump, it was designated a jumper. If the horse balked, the man would shoot the horse.

His stable did produce a few jumpers... and a lot of dog food.

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It's a Hard Knock Life...

Sometimes, all you can do is hang on.

Life is often hard. Sure, what's hard for me isn't even on the map of a west African farmer, and what's hard for him doesn't even appear on my experiential landscape, but we both know the truth:

Sometimes, life is hard.

Each of us faces challenges that we feel ill-equipped to rise to. Each of us struggles sometimes, to "keep on keepin' on." Each of us sometimes consider just giving up, giving in, surrendering to the vicissitudes that comprise "life."

Sometimes...

It makes one wonder why we so often persist in the face of adversity. Our experience ought to teach us to just give up--at some point, the cost : benefit analysis really does suggest that surrender is the smart option--but quite often we persevere. Why?

In my case, I think it's a side effect of irrational optimism. After all this time, you'd think I'd know better, but I keep on hoping that if I can just hold on long enough, things will get better. I shift my grip, I trade hands, I stretch, I tie a knot at the end of the rope and wrap my whole body around it, and just... hang... on.

I've thought that bulldog tenacity was a good thing--the mark of an indomitable will, the mark of a real survivor--but today I'm not persuaded. There's no inherent virtue in endlessly enduring the unendurable. Putting up with cut after cut after cut is not courage; it's masochism. It may even indicate an underlying self-loathing. If reason doesn't temper tenacity, tenacity can become self-destructive.

I'm not there yet--reason and emotion both think there's still hope and it's not time yet to give up--but I'm close.

Close to letting go.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Justified

I am by nature defensive; I rarely go on the offense, and then only if:

1. I am confident I am right
2. I have counted the cost
3. I consider the battle to be worth fighting

Teaching... vs. Being a Teacher

One of the many fine teachers at the high school I teach at recently said that while he loves teaching, he hates being a teacher.


On the face of it, that might seem counterintuitive. How can one love teaching and hate being a teacher? It doesn't seem to make sense.

Valentine's Day is For Lovers

As do many perennially-single people, I have typically viewed Valentine's Day with dread. I've moped around, beat my chest, moaned "Woe is me!" And (sadly) I've often been guilty of mocking those who embrace Valentine's Day; what I perceived as an indictment of of my single status became in my mind justification for sharing my misery.

No more. And no Singles' Awareness Day for me, either. I may not be thrilled to be single, but it is not a curse, and others' togetherness is neither an affliction nor a slap at me.

Valentine's Day is not for me. Valentine's Day is for lovers. That's an amazing, wonderful, delightful thing!

Relationships are hard. Good relationships--stable, healthy, successful relationships--are enormously difficult and incredibly rare. They deserve celebration. People who create and maintain them deserve a day all to themselves. It's a great thing to have a day specifically set aside for celebrating the giddy optimism that is romantic love.

It takes no special talent or hard work to be single. Single is easy. It may not always be happy, and it may not always be comfortable, but it is not difficult.

So Valentine's Day is for lovers. Happy Valentine's Day, all you lovers!