Drama

It's one thing to observe it from the gallery, another thing to be on the stage fully participating, and it's another thing entirely to participate in the drama without knowing that you are. Without being aware that you're being watched by hundreds if not thousands of pairs of hungry eyes, catching your every fall, savoring your every blooper, discussing your every remark, waiting for you to miss your step, whistling loudly at your poor attempts to connect with the story, and throwing rotten tomatoes at you in the end - deciding that you failed. For good. I've never been a good actress. I tend to wear all my emotions on my sleeve, but I'm just waking up to the concept of human drama, the game around it, and the rules - realizing that I've been participating all along, only I didn't quite know the rules.

Drama is inevitable. For some it's blown out of nothing, for others it's a way to experience and interpret life. For me it didn't exist - the concept didn't exist - I would just feel openly whatever I felt, raw, uncensored. But I'm only now getting that people never perceive me as open, they always think there is a motive behind my actions, a lie hidden in my words. They don't believe in people stripping themselves naked in public - nobody with a sound mind would do that, in their opinion. It must be a suit. There must be a purpose. She is a bitch. She is a sneak. She is a manipulator. She is working it to her advantage. She is - you can continue the list. But I never was - though this does not make me guiltless. I've done things out of naivete - I've spoken directly about what I felt and how I felt it - and I broke a bunch of rules and pissed off a bunch of people in the process. I've shown raw emotion - and I've overstepped the boundaries of the common social norms. I've alienated more people. I've reached out to connect - without realizing that I've been overstepping other's boundaries. I've closed a few paths this way, never to be opened again. I've been riding a roller coaster for too long now, and am now understanding the price that's got to be paid at the entrance, and the price to be paid to stop the ride. I know now that everyone is wearing a mask, and that it's not my job to tear it off; not my job to offer help when nobody asked me to. I don't have to yell - I'm surrounded by the clowns! I can simply observe them quietly and smile - because that's what they are being paid to do - to make me smile. I can't reach out and grab the stilts to show that those are not real legs, I can't tear at the hair to show everyone that it's a wig. 

I have never read the script. I don't know my lines. I stumble, guessing. The sets are changing and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be in this scene or the next. The props are being rearranged - and I can only hope that others will help, will point me to my position, will show me a sign when it's my turn to talk. But they don't. They get irritated at me. They shove me around, moving along, speaking, delivering brilliant monologues. I look at my costume - it doesn't fit the period. I'm blinded by the lights - and suddenly hear silence. I feel how a fellow actor pushes me to the edge - and I stand there, balancing, flapping my arms, trying to hold on to the thin air, to not fall. I manage to stay. Stay standing. My mouth is dry. I know everyone is waiting. This is it. This is my test. Can I do it? Can I participate? I inhale and I sing. I don't know why. I've never sung before. And suddenly I can. I got it. It's all one big game. You are who you declare yourself to be. You do what you declare you can do. You feel what you tell everyone you can feel. I sing. Terribly at first. I hear shouts - this is no opera, get her off the stage! But I keep singing. And when more voices yell at me, I yell at them back - shut the fuck up! It is my stage, my play, my game - so shut up! I sing because I said so. It's my hour. My song.

And they do. They quiet and murmur. I sing. I can hear another voice join me, and another, and we build a chorus. It's beautiful. The sounds reverberate through my entire body. I feel it. I can sing. I can act. I can play. This is my game too. But I will make it however I want it to be played. It feels good. I finish the song. For a second it's quiet, but then I hear applause. It's small and coming out of the corner, but it's something. I bow and I walk off. I hear more clapping in the back. I ignore actors looking me in the face, asking me questions. I push them aside, and go to my room. To change my costume, to put on a new mask, to get ready for the next show. A special show of human drama. To participate now, being fully aware of what is happening around me, and to have fun in the process. I'm not sure what I'll do next. Walking a tightrope? Maybe. Doing somersaults? Sounds like fun. Juggling. There. Gotta get ready now before the curtains open again.

Photo by Ko_An.

Comments

[Royce B. Daniel]

To think there are those that will never read this... to learn from it's wisdom.

[Ksenia Oustiougova]

Thanks :)) I never thought of it as being wise - but I guess I can see your point.