Sunday, May 29, 2005
amsterdam was great, by the way.
i watched some of the drama desk awards on public television today while recovering from jetlag. one of my least favorite things about myself is that i cannot watch an awards ceremony that involves acting laurels without rehearsing my speech. i know that lots of people do this, but i would really like to be one of the ones who doesn't. at least, i would like not to move myself to tears when i go into the bathroom to watch myself rehearse it in the mirror. i mean, that is so fake.
for a few years, when i was in my early twenties, i couldn't watch the oscars. i got this terrible feeling under my sternum, like i was going to pound starlets in the eyeballs with scissors. it receded, but i wonder if it isn't a telling example of what it'll be like if i'm off the market in a PhD program. it's when i'm not getting to do the acting that watching the commendations gets me feeling all macbeth.
i still think the grad school try is a good idea. but i'm starting to be frightened of what it'll be like to realize i am not ever, ever going to be a company member at ashland or a guest victim on law and order. when i thought about what i wanted to say in my so fake thank you speech, i wanted to say: there was this time i thought that it wasn't going to work out, and it made me really sad.
it does make me really sad. being a professor or a dramaturg or a literary manager somewhere nice and maybe getting to have a baby would make it better, but i wonder if it would ever not make me sad. i hope it wouldn't make me the kind of sad that leads to bitter old age and a drinking problem. i don't think so, but you never know. i also tell myself that going back to school doesn't necessarily represent the End of the Affair; that i can still audition for some stuff and when we move, eventually, as i am sure we will, to a more liveable city, i'll be the kind of well-employed lady who can also be in plays.
i was telling the one who's least afraid, one time, that i know i need to get over myself and my ideas about failure, but the best way of getting over it would be to become successful. i still think that's true. so as much as i'm looking forward to the familiar bosom of academia . . .
come on, world. i'm working hard, and you have one year to discover me at the drug store soda fountain. one year, motherfuckers.
for a few years, when i was in my early twenties, i couldn't watch the oscars. i got this terrible feeling under my sternum, like i was going to pound starlets in the eyeballs with scissors. it receded, but i wonder if it isn't a telling example of what it'll be like if i'm off the market in a PhD program. it's when i'm not getting to do the acting that watching the commendations gets me feeling all macbeth.
i still think the grad school try is a good idea. but i'm starting to be frightened of what it'll be like to realize i am not ever, ever going to be a company member at ashland or a guest victim on law and order. when i thought about what i wanted to say in my so fake thank you speech, i wanted to say: there was this time i thought that it wasn't going to work out, and it made me really sad.
it does make me really sad. being a professor or a dramaturg or a literary manager somewhere nice and maybe getting to have a baby would make it better, but i wonder if it would ever not make me sad. i hope it wouldn't make me the kind of sad that leads to bitter old age and a drinking problem. i don't think so, but you never know. i also tell myself that going back to school doesn't necessarily represent the End of the Affair; that i can still audition for some stuff and when we move, eventually, as i am sure we will, to a more liveable city, i'll be the kind of well-employed lady who can also be in plays.
i was telling the one who's least afraid, one time, that i know i need to get over myself and my ideas about failure, but the best way of getting over it would be to become successful. i still think that's true. so as much as i'm looking forward to the familiar bosom of academia . . .
come on, world. i'm working hard, and you have one year to discover me at the drug store soda fountain. one year, motherfuckers.
