The truth is…

Okay, so…

Why am I tipsy after half a cup of old champagne? Especially when I had a brutally normal day of eating (banana before gym, coffee, BIG sandwich, partook in free Pinkberry)… It is confusing. But fine. I guess that’s what tonight will be. Drinking alone in my apartment at 6pm. It’s okay. I swear I have friends and a life.

People ask me what I’m doing and I don’t know what to say. I used to. I had a nice, tight ball of words to hurl back at those who dared ask me what my life in NYC is like. Now…

The truth is, I submit for auditions probably at least 5-10 times daily.

And the truth is, I have one audition a week if I’m lucky.

The truth is, I thank god I’m salaried because sometimes I forget that I actually have a job. And that’s wonderful, but also weird. What do I do all day to make me so tired?

The truth is, when I get to go home at 5pm and don’t have anywhere else to be, I am so happy I do things like drink champagne alone and watch crappy television in bed for hours. And it’s glorious.

The truth is, I haven’t had sex in 15 months. That, I think, is a life record (I mean, not counting pre-sex years).

The truth is, I wish I didn’t have any dignity and would just fuck that incredibly attractive boy that WON’T stop and just get that shit over with. (the truth is, profanity sometimes helps)

The truth is, I’m more excited to bring my cat home for Easter than to go myself.

The truth is, sometimes I want this life I’ve built for myself so badly, I actually feel ill. My stomach actually hurts and my heart actually aches. I cry every time I walk into a theatre. Really.

The truth is, I actually feel okay about how I’m doing in terms of “life.” I’m okay (not thrilled, but “okay”) with my self-made “career” at this exact moment. I’m okay with the amount I work out and the amount I eat, usually. But what do I SAY?

But when I’m actually asked, “What are you up to?” I say stupid shit like,

“Oh, y’know, just livin’ life!”
“Auditioning as much as I can, working, running around, y’know, the usual!”
“Well, y’know, well, my spring mission is to get an agent so I’m pretty focused on that…”
“Oh, my company’s in a ‘development’ phase now, since we just got representation… No, it’s totally on track!”
“Well, um… I got a CAT!”

“That boy” and another kid from my school just got in to Yale School of Drama for their MFA. And my first response was ANGER. Which felt crazy, but recognizable. I talked to my therapist about it. I wish I could throw out a gem like that as an easily measurable gauge of success, you know? I’ve always been more comfortable with that– like, “Oh, well I went to the premiere performing arts high school in the country” and “I was the salutatorian” and “I played like 6 leads in college.” “I’m working on it” simply doesn’t have the same ring. It’s fine when it’s just me saying it to myself, but for some reason “not good enough” when I have to explain it to others, even others in the business.

The truth is, I’m happy but I don’t know how to tell people.

So at least to you, blog world, you heard it here first: “I’m doing well. And I’m proud of myself.”

“Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you… Be happy about your growth, in which of course you can’t take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don’t torment them with your doubts and don’t frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn’t be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn’t necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust…. and don’t expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.”
–Rainer Maria Rilke


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