Being Me

I grew up not just in a small town. The welcoming sign actually said "The village of." I went through all my school years with the same people. When there were budget cuts, theater was the first thing to go. A few years ago, they actually demolished the stage. Don't get me started.

My parents, whom I love, were teachers. I had my mother for eighth grade English. Being a teacher's daughter, and the first born, I was little miss perfectionist. I stayed in the lines when coloring, etc., etc. It wasn't a place where one was encouraged to embrace one's quirks.

When I went away to college, I was so excited to figure out who I was, outside of my little town. To walk around, and not have everyone know me and everything about me. To not be the big fish. And then I found the stage, and I went back to being in the spotlight again.

I like the me I turned out to be. It was a struggle. But I've had some good times. Auditions are always brutal. But I like acting and being another character other than myself. Someone more shy, more bold, more lucky, more unlucky.

I think my confidence level has always been a roller coaster throughout my life, depending on who I'm surrounded by, and how comfortable I feel. And I recently had pointed out by my acting teacher that where I shrink back today is in the agent interview we were practicing in class. I attempted to answer the questions as perfectly as I could, smiling politely. And the next class, she was giving us feedback, and she said, "I'm sorry, but I completely forgot our interview. You are very lovely and interesting but you were not interesting in this exercise at all. You have got to stop acting like the little librarian." Of course, she was right. And I don't always do it. But sometimes I am so scared of saying the wrong thing that I don't say much at all. You try answering the question, "So, tell me about yourself"!

I am so much more than the girl from the Midwest who wanted to be an actress.

Bring on the Onions

As an actor, a part of the job is to be "emotionally available." Growing up, I remember riding the school bus and this girl showed me how she could make herself cry. It was pretty cool!

But being an adult, living in this city, I for one, hold everything in in my daily life. I put up walls so as to not be affected. The emotion I probably show most is anger/frustration, especially in the daily commute to 34th Street. And that makes me sad. I want to be compassionate but it's not easy when you're pushed and shoved and you're lugging the world around in your pocketbook. I always think of the film "The Pianist" and how Adrian Brody nobly walked through the crowds in Nazi Germany - so much compassion.

I read a poem at my grandfather's funeral. I held it together, "performance-perfect." Then I sat back down and cried. When I saw my chiropractor back in New York who'd seen me through the year leading up to his death, she'd asked how everything went. I said, "We held it together pretty well." And she was like, "Why? Why would you not sob and get it all out the one time in life when it counts?" Public displays of emotion are frowned upon where I come from, I said.

Yesterday I read sides with my girlfriend at work for her on-camera class. She was playing a character who'd been raped and she started to cry a bit when we were reading through to go over the lines. She was so connected, so "there."

When I was in college, I remember being in a play, and the director wanted me to come out with tears streaming down my face. I didn't deliver. I didn't know how. I like to think I'm much more trained now than I was then, but I haven't really been called to do something like that since. You never know when you'll need your "tricks."

Sometimes I cry at movies. I cried at the end of "La Vie En Rose." But what really chokes me up are awards shows. Seeing people win awards in theater, tv and film. Knowing what it took for most of them to get there. It kills me. It's hard to make art. And it's even harder to "sell" it. But when you get to be a part of something truly great, there really is nothing like it.

Bring on the onions.