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ontologyAnd now I know: I didn't get into Oliver!. At all; not even the chorus.
I'm having a little difficulty finding something to say about this.
Here are two things you ought to know about me: firstly, my emotions and longings and loves and counting-ons are several times more intense than most people's, and a great lot more intense than they ought to be. Secondly, I internalise everything: not mostly out of necessity or fear or even habit, but because, idiotically, that is how the wheels and cogs inside of me turn. (No, there is a part of it that is -- reticence, or self-defense; when I was younger I was rather more open than I am now, but this only ever seemed to make people disgusted with me, or led them to patronise me ("silly girl, it's only a book; the moon; October; a genocide that happened over a decade ago!"), and it hurt, and so those emotions shut down, and now I don't know how to bring them out again. I've tried, goodness knows I've tried, but another thing you ought to know about me is this: if I say nothing and am very, very still, I have been profoundly moved.)
Therefore: nobody quite knows or understands (how I hate that word, staple of teenage diaries!) what this meant to me: not my parents, not my chums, not you lot, and certainly not the director.
Part of it was an escape from depression. Oh, I know, depression like mine can't be outrun, but it can be shunted back a little. I know; I've managed it here and there. When I am busy, with work I enjoy, when I am not feeling useless, I am happy. Even when frustrated, or exhausted! -- how much better that is than the thickheadedness that so often takes hold of me. I would see people and have a whole lovely experience and it would be doing something, instead of mucking about the house not having a job and not being particularly useful to anyone. And I haven't been busy in so long, except for the wrong sort, the crowded, smoggy sort of busy, which tends to make my head feel as though it's collapsing in on itself, or it was with the wrong people (viz. Mississippi), and I was lonely and awkward and unhappy.
Another part was getting chummy with my girls again; we see each other so seldom these days that I rather feel as though I am in a group of people who have similar interests and similar ways of seeing things but aren't quite proper friends for all that. And everyone else always seems to be involved in a Thing which I am not involved in (this is how it always goes, with me and people), and there's a thin, unintentional gauze of leaving out, and so they are talking about re-enactments in Williamsburg, costume-making, the theatre, and it is like all of the other crowds I have never quite been meshed with; it's like trying to slip into a group that all attends the same school and are always talking about this teacher and that class and this thing that happened and gawking at me, the odd homeschooler ("homeschooling must be such fun! do you do school in your pyjamas? I bet it's all so easy"), who doesn't know the jokes and doesn't know the lingo and doesn't fancy that one bloke in Chemistry. -- It's not quite like that, no, but it is a little. I am always the girl with her fingertips pressing the windowpane.
And I feel so rejected. I was good. For once I was actually good, and I can't even prod holes in it. But even my best isn't good enough. Ought I to have sung something less macabre? Did I not sing loudly enough? Was I just not interesting? -- But you see, this is how it has always gone. I am very easy to overlook. Once, twice, it would not have felt like a way-things-are, but always? There was a day I was riding my bicycle and I went over a bump in the pavement and my bicycle seat, goodness knows why, snapped off. I was sitting in the middle of the pavement, trying to fix it somehow and trying not to cry, and a woman walked straight around me. She did not stop. She did not even look at me. She just went. And very often people I know see me and do not greet me. And they forget to ask me along places. And they don't seem to think much about me unless I am straight in front of them and talking loudly and there isn't really any way round the thinking. It happened every year at camp when I was young (I don't know why I went three years; it was always disappointing) -- I was even outgoing then, and it didn't come to anything.
It was going to be part of the landscape of my autumn. I had been looking forward to it, counting on it, for six months, eight months, I can't remember. It was only those three-in-the-morning hours of waking that I thought it might end in disaster, and even then I never really believed it. What do you know? -- the worst possible thing can happen, and does.
Oh, how stupid all of this looks, written out in cold words! And here is one more thing you ought to know, if you don't know it already: a thing is, to me, never one thing. It is always inextricably tangled with a host of other things.
I'm having a little difficulty finding something to say about this.
Here are two things you ought to know about me: firstly, my emotions and longings and loves and counting-ons are several times more intense than most people's, and a great lot more intense than they ought to be. Secondly, I internalise everything: not mostly out of necessity or fear or even habit, but because, idiotically, that is how the wheels and cogs inside of me turn. (No, there is a part of it that is -- reticence, or self-defense; when I was younger I was rather more open than I am now, but this only ever seemed to make people disgusted with me, or led them to patronise me ("silly girl, it's only a book; the moon; October; a genocide that happened over a decade ago!"), and it hurt, and so those emotions shut down, and now I don't know how to bring them out again. I've tried, goodness knows I've tried, but another thing you ought to know about me is this: if I say nothing and am very, very still, I have been profoundly moved.)
Therefore: nobody quite knows or understands (how I hate that word, staple of teenage diaries!) what this meant to me: not my parents, not my chums, not you lot, and certainly not the director.
Part of it was an escape from depression. Oh, I know, depression like mine can't be outrun, but it can be shunted back a little. I know; I've managed it here and there. When I am busy, with work I enjoy, when I am not feeling useless, I am happy. Even when frustrated, or exhausted! -- how much better that is than the thickheadedness that so often takes hold of me. I would see people and have a whole lovely experience and it would be doing something, instead of mucking about the house not having a job and not being particularly useful to anyone. And I haven't been busy in so long, except for the wrong sort, the crowded, smoggy sort of busy, which tends to make my head feel as though it's collapsing in on itself, or it was with the wrong people (viz. Mississippi), and I was lonely and awkward and unhappy.
Another part was getting chummy with my girls again; we see each other so seldom these days that I rather feel as though I am in a group of people who have similar interests and similar ways of seeing things but aren't quite proper friends for all that. And everyone else always seems to be involved in a Thing which I am not involved in (this is how it always goes, with me and people), and there's a thin, unintentional gauze of leaving out, and so they are talking about re-enactments in Williamsburg, costume-making, the theatre, and it is like all of the other crowds I have never quite been meshed with; it's like trying to slip into a group that all attends the same school and are always talking about this teacher and that class and this thing that happened and gawking at me, the odd homeschooler ("homeschooling must be such fun! do you do school in your pyjamas? I bet it's all so easy"), who doesn't know the jokes and doesn't know the lingo and doesn't fancy that one bloke in Chemistry. -- It's not quite like that, no, but it is a little. I am always the girl with her fingertips pressing the windowpane.
And I feel so rejected. I was good. For once I was actually good, and I can't even prod holes in it. But even my best isn't good enough. Ought I to have sung something less macabre? Did I not sing loudly enough? Was I just not interesting? -- But you see, this is how it has always gone. I am very easy to overlook. Once, twice, it would not have felt like a way-things-are, but always? There was a day I was riding my bicycle and I went over a bump in the pavement and my bicycle seat, goodness knows why, snapped off. I was sitting in the middle of the pavement, trying to fix it somehow and trying not to cry, and a woman walked straight around me. She did not stop. She did not even look at me. She just went. And very often people I know see me and do not greet me. And they forget to ask me along places. And they don't seem to think much about me unless I am straight in front of them and talking loudly and there isn't really any way round the thinking. It happened every year at camp when I was young (I don't know why I went three years; it was always disappointing) -- I was even outgoing then, and it didn't come to anything.
It was going to be part of the landscape of my autumn. I had been looking forward to it, counting on it, for six months, eight months, I can't remember. It was only those three-in-the-morning hours of waking that I thought it might end in disaster, and even then I never really believed it. What do you know? -- the worst possible thing can happen, and does.
Oh, how stupid all of this looks, written out in cold words! And here is one more thing you ought to know, if you don't know it already: a thing is, to me, never one thing. It is always inextricably tangled with a host of other things.
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no subject
Date: 2007-09-27 03:23 am (UTC)This is awful, it really is. I hope you feel better about it soon.
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2007-09-27 03:48 am (UTC)I should say though, that theatres are The Epitome of Cliques. I've done plays in several, and watched time and again as really good people audition and never get cast because they aren't in the theatre clique. Directors like to cast people they know personally and have a friendship with, or are friends of their favorite actors, especially in smaller roles.
But that to say, I'd audition for things again, because every so often a director comes along who likes new faces, or a part might come along that needs someone exactly like you and the director won't be able to ignore that. :-)
no subject
Date: 2007-09-27 07:12 am (UTC)So you have 110% of my sympathy, and a virtual hug and huge chocolate bar.
A few things though that you might think are stupid or not feel like hearing, but I want to say them anyway.
No matter how many times you get overlooked, you will always be very important; the most important in the world, to someone. And maybe even to someone, or several people, that you don't even realise.
There's no way of knowing what a director is looking for or why they did or didn't cast you. From amateur/community theatre to the highest level of professional, people daily do AMAZING auditions and don't get cast. So you should try to be happy that you know you did good, because that is a great achievement, and a great thing to recognise.
I'm in acting school, and we take clowning class. It's not as silly as it probably sounds, it's about connecting to our inner child and stuff. One of the things we learned, totally applies to this and you made me think of it actually talking about falling off a bike: We do shows because they're fun. A play is called a play because we PLAY in it. We wouldn't want to do them if they weren't fun, and yet we take them so seriously. When you were little and learning to ride a bike, if you fell off the bike, you didn't beat yourself up about it and analyse what went wrong and feel like a failure...you got right back on the bike and tried again, and again until you could ride without falling. Because it was fun. and you instinctively knew that you would do it, if you kept at it. There's no reason it should be any different for acting/singing/auditioning. If you fall off this time, or a hundred times, that doesn't mean you'll never succeed, and it doesn't mean anything negative except that it was a learning experience and you happened not to get it this time. But don't let that stop you from jumping right back on the bike. I think a lot of succeeding, and to a degree being noticed, is about the energy you give. So don't try to be loud or anything, just be yourself and be so excited to be there, doing something you enjoy. Hopefully next time you'll get it, but if not, there are a thousand more chances to try!
Last thing - I know how it sucks when you plan everything out and find out that nothing goes as you plan it. This is something I'm only just coming to terms with, even though it ALWAYS happens. (lately I find myself thinking of every possible outcome for a situation, and it still manages to surprise me!) I don't know what you believe about life or fate or anything, but as cheesy as it sounds, perhaps it was meant to be.
And if not, I am sorry. I feel terrible for you. But you will feel better, and there will be other shows. And I just noticed your post, so you're not completely overlooked! :)
no subject
Date: 2007-09-29 03:51 am (UTC)Alas, our theatre is so small, and so...having stuff only every three months or so, that it'll be a long while before there's anything else to audition for -- I just need so terribly to be busy in a comfortable, moderately useful way. (Have been trying to procure employment without success, alas! -- because money would be very nice.) I'm still going to try for stage crew, which wouldn't be as fun or as busy and I don't think they'll need stage crew for some time yet, but it'll be something, and I can still be involved. Because if I don't get involved somehow the whole thing's going to be tainted with the bad taste of not getting cast -- it'll be years before I can watch the film or read Oliver Twist, which is very silly and emotional, but there you have it. ;p
I absolutely hear you about planning everything in my head -- I do this with everything, and it always ends badly! (Did you ever read I Capture the Castle? The protagonist, Cassandra Mortmain, put forth the theory that if one does indulge in imagining out a situation, it will never come to pass, or at least not remotely the way it was imagined. I'm beginning to believe this is true!)
Anyway, thank you so much, and I do feel rather better today. I can't manage to be completely glum for long stretches of time, which is probably some sort of psychological self-defense, though sometimes it is very annoying as I want to stay vexed or romantically gloomy! :D But I can't stay unhappy when there's a lovely harvest moon, or while reading Susanna Clarke and gallivanting with my chums!
and because my previous comment wasn't long enough...:P
Date: 2007-09-27 07:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-27 07:25 am (UTC)And I sincerely hope what I said yesterday didn't offend you.
And ... *hugs* *hugs more* *hugs harder*
I know what it is to be "other" and to be invisible. I've been there. Sometimes I'm still there. But something changed in me between my junior year of high school and my senior year of high school. I came THIS close to being voted the shyest person in my class and only happened to miss it because I "came out of my shell" my senior year and shocked the whole town when I was in a play with a main part and I was GOOD. Who knew?! Even my own family would just blow me off as the resident weirdo, the "artist". It was how they explained me. I know this pain.
The thing is (and please don't be offended by this) I think I've learned something in retrospect. I think I can see where I made myself invisible because I didn't share my thoughts with anyone really. Part of it was not having a friend I could truly connect with. I had a few friends but they were always more acquaintances. We can only truly blossom when we have people that truly understand us. And trust me, I DO get you. We have SO much in common sometimes it blows me away.
Is it possible that while you are pressing your fingertips to the windowpane (LOVE that expression by the way!), screaming inside for others to notice you (for me it was always screaming internally for the boy I was madly in love with to somehow notice me though I never talked to him), that you're missing the person who is right behind you who does want to talk?
It's an odd concept and has taken me many years to grasp, but there are more people who SEE you, really SEE you than you realize. The problem could be that you're not looking. Trust me on this, I tend to keep my eyes pointed inward too so I know whereof I speak.
Just a thought. You can tell me to piss off if you want. ;)
LOVE YA GIRL! Hang in there! *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2007-09-27 12:28 pm (UTC)I'm sorry about the audition. :(
So many of things you said here, rang very true for me. Things will start looking up soon. :)
Times like these make you appreciate the good times more.
If it helps, I think you seem awesome. :) You like Sirius Black, so you must be. ;)
no subject
Date: 2007-09-27 07:34 pm (UTC)Since we're girls, and we like to analyze things, here are a few questions to ask yourself. It might make for an interesting hour (or two). It might also help you sort through things. Grab a journal and quiz yourself.
Put yourself into the director's skin and take a walk. Look at your performance again and think of any rational reasons the director might not have selected you. What would have influenced his/her decision? Find five different things.
You say people seem to avoid you in the street. Why? See yourself as a stranger. Don't say because you're skin is broken out or you're ugly, because honestly people aren't as turned off by that as we, the victims of it, think they are. What other reasons could these people have, assuming they aren't unusually weird people?
Why are you feeling so keenly let down by this? Why isn't it just a case of feeling disappointed? I know you talk about reasons in the post, but dig deeper. What is setting you off?
Have you really tried to put yourself in social positions? Have you really tried to make friends and keep them? Or is it up to a situation or someone else to prompt you?
List five (or more) possible reasons God wants you where you are. Assuming that He isn't some uncaring figure in the distance, why would He let this happen? What good can come out of this, and how can you seek that good?
What can you do to recover from this quickly, learn from it, and move on?
Force yourself to identify ten constructive things you can learn from this experience.
Sorry if this seems tough. But I think a self analysis might help you more than some quickly said, quickly passing cuddle words.
With love and sincerity,
Alyssa
no subject
Date: 2007-09-28 01:12 am (UTC)I mean it darling, I can just sit and nod my head and start to cry because I so very much understand, and I wish so badly that I could help you or say something that would make a difference, but I can't even help or fix myself, so what good could I do you?
Just know that I am here for you, I love you very dearly, I really, truly need you around, Jolene, okay? Email or call if you need to, and take care, please.
♥♥
no subject
Date: 2007-09-28 02:04 pm (UTC)*hugs tightly* I can only imagine how hard this must be for you, and it rips my heart in two to contemplate it. I wish words could make it better! But these incomprehensible kind of things happen, sometimes, and I know it's harsh, but I think the best thing would be to let it go. I know it'd be easy to worry at it constantly, try to unravel WHY, but ... it really wouldn't help, and would probably just make you miserable. I know it's next to impossible, but sometimes we just have to accept things, and move on.
I don't even know if I myself can do this, honestly, it being something I need to work on rather much ! But it's good advice for all that, mostly because it didn't originate with me. =)
*hugs* hold on, dear, things will get better, and you are not invisible, although it probably feels like it.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-29 02:27 am (UTC)I can say that I love you. A lot, and I am insanely sorry (and angry with whoever made the decision not to give you the part) about Oliver. We both know that wouldn't've actually solved anything depression-wise in the long run, but it is heartbreaking and person-shattering not to get something like that, especially when you were fabulous and wanted it so badly. We should get the Doctor to take us back in time and help them see how much you should've gotten it. And then the Doctor could star in it with you! And you two would be fantastic, and Nelle and I would borrow the Tardis to come out and see you both perform (stopping to get Noelle along the way, of course)!!
I hope you know that none of this is your fault. It's some horrid sickness that for whatever reason afflicts some people and makes us like weird-half-forms of our real selves. I also hope you know that I am here for you, in any way I can, at any time, ever and always. Seriously. Talking, sharing, angsting, fangirling, killing certain play-director-casting persons, whatever you need or want, okay? ♥
I was reading T.S. Eliot the other day (for only about the second time since I bought a small little book of some of his selected poems - I really need to read it more) and I came across The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, and though it doesn't necessarily have much to do with this post or all of my rambling here, I just had to share that I think it's incredibly gorgeous, and for whatever reason it made me think of you. Maybe because I know you love Eliot, I don't know.
Anyway, I should probably wrap this up. I love you. I really do, and I think you're incredibly beautiful and intelligent and talented and mature and wonderful, and maybe it doesn't make much better to hear that right now, but somehow things will get better, sometime. Life isn't pretty always and even with help things won't be like we imagined grown-up life would be when we were young girls, but it will go on (even if you don't necessarily want it to), and you'll be okay and even happy one day because you're strong and loved and needed by so many.
-hugs tightly- ♥
no subject
Date: 2007-09-29 04:57 pm (UTC)I really understand how you feel. I've never been rejected from a play, but sometimes simply being rejected from inner-circles and cliques can hurt just as bad.
I'm in production for an elementary play (set-painting and costume sewing), and all the girls seem to go to the same church. And they all sit around and talk about different people at their church. What I can't stand, is that I usually hang out with the boys (they're more amiable), and the girls are *constantly* finding ways to bother the boys. It isn't flirting, because at least flirting is done with with an intention of being, um, attractive. These girls are just hateful. This past week they were talking about "the most attractive part of a guy's body" right in front of the boys. I know how it is to be different, and to be sometimes left out because of those differences.
I'll be praying for you. I know it's tough right now, but you'll get through it. I love you, Banui!!
no subject
Date: 2007-09-30 08:05 am (UTC)