Tuesday night was the last session of my acting class. It had been going pretty well. Before class started, the instructor complimented me on my performance the previous week. He said that he had seen another side of me, and that I had gotten active. I was encouraged, but was still unsure of how the rest of the night would go, because I hadn't spent much time preparing my final act, and because I was feeling a little anxious and down about the subject of the last post.
We played a warm-up game that tested our concentration skills. Basically, we all stood in a circle, with one person in the middle. The person in the middle points at someone and gives a cue, and 3 of the people in the circle have to respond to the cue in a certain way (something silly, like putting elephant ears on the person next to you). At first, I was terrible, and messed up every time. Then, I decided to put aside my mental distractions and stay present.
After focusing on staying present for a minute or two, I was great. I couldn't make a mistake! I was having a good time, laughing openly, and enjoying the game, and everyone tried to get me out, but I was flawless.
We did some other exercises throughout the night, but the big thing would be our 2-minute performances.
The assignment was to think up a back-story for a character in some heightened emotional situation. Each of us was to become our character for two minutes, using some imaginary objects in front of the class in such a way that our emotional state would be apparent, and so that the audience (our classmates and the teacher) could interpret the situation.
Throughout the rest of the six-week class, we had done most of the other exercises concurrently with our classmates - in other words, I never had to perform alone "on stage" in front of anyone. I was a little anxious about the prospect, but not as much as I would have been in my old, pre-mission days. It also helped to have gotten pretty comfortable with the small group of people over the last month and a half.
Only four of us had come prepared with the assignment. I fessed up to being ready, and was going to go through with it - I don't believe in avoiding these things anymore.
Still, though, I didn't volunteer to go first. I spent some of the time thinking about what I would do - preparing, more so than worrying - but it turned out I would be staying active until my performance anyway.
After each act, each other member of the class was to walk into the scene, and start interacting as an improvised character based on his or her interpretation of the act. The person who started the scene would then have to adapt to going along with the interpretation, no matter what it was. This is the basis of improv acting, and it's a heck of a lot of fun.
And so, this is where the night started to go well for me. First, my classmate acted out typing something on a computer, and doing office stuff like that. I came up with an interpretation of her looking for a file at work, and without thinking about it long, I walked into the scene.
I shouted in an angry voice.
If you don't find that file in five minutes, you're fired!!
She apologized. I was becoming an angry boss character, so I didn't react kindly.
I pointed, and shouted, You knew we needed it!
When I sat back down, one of my classmates complimented me. "You play a prick well."
Seeing what I was able to do by simply staying present and letting go, I felt encouraged. I played along a little longer in my other classmates' scenes, warming up for my own time on the stage - that would be the most interesting part of the night.
I didn't volunteer, so I was the last to go.
I took the stage in front of the instructor and my peers. My idea had been to be a man going into his home to pack things up. My character was a sad one - he had lost his wife, and so he was preparing to move to a new home. While packing his suitcase, he would periodically gaze over at a picture of his wife on the mantle. Walking between the closet and his suitcase, he would stop, pick up the photo frame, and feel loss. Deep sadness.
I acted out the scene I just described - only, all of the objects were imaginary. Were my feelings imaginary, too? I wasn't sure. I didn't think directly about any of my own, current heart-wrenching feelings of failed love, but I may have subconsciously tapped into them while I allowed myself to feel the feelings of my character.
I didn't pay much attention to the audience, but at one point, I caught a glimpse of my instructor's face. He looked deeply attentive and sorrowful. I knew instantly that like last week, my performance was affecting him, and so I had succeeded in giving an outward appearance that matched my character's mental state.
The real me was actually feeling a little anxious. As my character picked up the photograph of his lost wife, my hand started trembling as it held the imaginary object. Instead of letting it bother me, I stayed present and focused on my character. It was the last day of class, and there would be no holding back.
I channeled my nervousness into the scene. As my character, I allowed myself to mourn deeply as I looked at the photograph. My character's mental state made me look sad, and my sad expression made me, as my character, feel even sadder. I had created a cycle for the purpose of my performance.
Within moments, my character became overwhelmed with his sadness. I let out a deeply anguished cry as I looked at the picture. I then let out another cry, and fell to my knees, clutching the photograph. Finally, I fell all the way to the floor, clutching the photo as I closed my eyes and cried a few moments more to end the scene.
It was now the class's turn to interpret the scene and interact with me. First, my instructor - deeply moved himself - decided to play with me. He opened by asking me to take the imaginary object that made me so sad, and to pack it with my things. He talked about missing her, and it was obvious that he was my son. The two of us continued as deeply hurt characters.
"Take - Take it."
"I can't. It's too painful."
"Don't you miss her?"
"If I take it, I'll be reminded of her every time I see it. (Voice shaking, and almost in tears) Don't you feel the same pain?"
Stuff like that.
I went back to laying on the floor for the next improvised scene. The next player had a totally different interpretation. He was a police officer, and I was a drunk in public. He told me I had to get up and move.
It's amazing how inhibition disappears, and how clearly and easily you can think when you simply let go as we practiced for six weeks in this class.
Immediately, I understood his interpretation. My character acted like a bum, and jousted with him verbally.
"Get up and get out of here."
(In a sluggish voice) "Hey man, leave me alone."
"Get up, or I'm going to make you get up."
(Turning over to look at the officer) "You know what happened the last time somebody tried to make me get up?"
"What?"
I stood up, and got aggressive. He then pointed an imaginary gun at me, and I backed off.
"Hey, hey! I don't want any trouble....."
Stuff like that. The next classmate interpreted me as packing to go off to a war. She was an older lady, and she said something that made it obvious she was my mother. We had an intense, passionate argument. She was trying to forbid me from going off to fight in a war, and I was shouting about how I love my country more than I love myself, and how Granddad died for this country, and how someone has to go off and fight if we're going to be safe.
That scene was much longer. It's a shame you guys couldn't see me: it was amazing! Without needing any time to think, I was switching between totally different characters in one scene after another. I was totally uninhibited, and I was becoming some interesting characters - all on the fly.
All together, I acted out 9 short scenes, which kept me on the stage for about 20 minutes. I was so present and in the moment that even just afterwards, it wasn't easy to remember all that I had done, since I was switching into new characters without time to reflect on what I was doing.
In the last scene, I was packing my luggage when one of my classmates came on stage. She asked, "What are you doing, George? That's my dress!" As I learned in the class, I followed my impulse, and played along without any further thought. I changed the inflection of my voice - this character was going to be downright silly.
"Girl, what are you talking about? This is my dress!"
"Come on George, give me the dress."
She really wanted the (imaginary) dress. She tried to take it from me, and I jumped away from her. She started chasing me around, and I tripped backwards - intentionally.
"Girl, you made me trip over my luggage!"
I'd had the impulse to fall over the imaginary luggage in the room, knowing it would make the audience laugh.
Now that she had the dress, I changed course, and started talking about how I thought she was okay with me cross-dressing because she caught me that time after we first got together. She said she didn't want me dressing like that anymore. My newly-created character tried to justify it: "Even famous guys cross-dress! (eyebrows raised, making a gesture showing the height of someone tall) Dennis Rodman?"
I was a total clown! With the goofiest grin and tone of voice you can imagine, I begged with my hands together like a child. "Please!!! (In a slow, shy voice) Can I just wear the panties?" Finally, she said that would be okay. I gave her a great big hug, and said "I love you girl!"
My performance was over. From the moving sadness to the lighthearted humor, I had stolen the show that night. Everyone clapped - they were in awe of my performance! I heard the word "wow." One of my classmates tried to describe how I was "on it." In other words: I was totally in the zone. Totally uninhibited, totally present in the moment. It was a great way to end the night.
My first acting class was an amazing experience; exactly what I'd hoped for: a non-dating activity where I would get consistent social experience. And still, it was so much more than that! It taught me to let go of self-consciousness and be in the moment. It helped me further my quest to defeat inhibition, which is quickly starting to look like a thing of the past. It introduced me to a new hobby, where I literally play with other people, and will likely make many friends. And above all, it was a whole heck of a lot of fun.
We played a warm-up game that tested our concentration skills. Basically, we all stood in a circle, with one person in the middle. The person in the middle points at someone and gives a cue, and 3 of the people in the circle have to respond to the cue in a certain way (something silly, like putting elephant ears on the person next to you). At first, I was terrible, and messed up every time. Then, I decided to put aside my mental distractions and stay present.
After focusing on staying present for a minute or two, I was great. I couldn't make a mistake! I was having a good time, laughing openly, and enjoying the game, and everyone tried to get me out, but I was flawless.
We did some other exercises throughout the night, but the big thing would be our 2-minute performances.
The assignment was to think up a back-story for a character in some heightened emotional situation. Each of us was to become our character for two minutes, using some imaginary objects in front of the class in such a way that our emotional state would be apparent, and so that the audience (our classmates and the teacher) could interpret the situation.
Throughout the rest of the six-week class, we had done most of the other exercises concurrently with our classmates - in other words, I never had to perform alone "on stage" in front of anyone. I was a little anxious about the prospect, but not as much as I would have been in my old, pre-mission days. It also helped to have gotten pretty comfortable with the small group of people over the last month and a half.
Only four of us had come prepared with the assignment. I fessed up to being ready, and was going to go through with it - I don't believe in avoiding these things anymore.
Still, though, I didn't volunteer to go first. I spent some of the time thinking about what I would do - preparing, more so than worrying - but it turned out I would be staying active until my performance anyway.
After each act, each other member of the class was to walk into the scene, and start interacting as an improvised character based on his or her interpretation of the act. The person who started the scene would then have to adapt to going along with the interpretation, no matter what it was. This is the basis of improv acting, and it's a heck of a lot of fun.
And so, this is where the night started to go well for me. First, my classmate acted out typing something on a computer, and doing office stuff like that. I came up with an interpretation of her looking for a file at work, and without thinking about it long, I walked into the scene.
I shouted in an angry voice.
If you don't find that file in five minutes, you're fired!!
She apologized. I was becoming an angry boss character, so I didn't react kindly.
I pointed, and shouted, You knew we needed it!
When I sat back down, one of my classmates complimented me. "You play a prick well."
Seeing what I was able to do by simply staying present and letting go, I felt encouraged. I played along a little longer in my other classmates' scenes, warming up for my own time on the stage - that would be the most interesting part of the night.
I didn't volunteer, so I was the last to go.
I took the stage in front of the instructor and my peers. My idea had been to be a man going into his home to pack things up. My character was a sad one - he had lost his wife, and so he was preparing to move to a new home. While packing his suitcase, he would periodically gaze over at a picture of his wife on the mantle. Walking between the closet and his suitcase, he would stop, pick up the photo frame, and feel loss. Deep sadness.
I acted out the scene I just described - only, all of the objects were imaginary. Were my feelings imaginary, too? I wasn't sure. I didn't think directly about any of my own, current heart-wrenching feelings of failed love, but I may have subconsciously tapped into them while I allowed myself to feel the feelings of my character.
I didn't pay much attention to the audience, but at one point, I caught a glimpse of my instructor's face. He looked deeply attentive and sorrowful. I knew instantly that like last week, my performance was affecting him, and so I had succeeded in giving an outward appearance that matched my character's mental state.
The real me was actually feeling a little anxious. As my character picked up the photograph of his lost wife, my hand started trembling as it held the imaginary object. Instead of letting it bother me, I stayed present and focused on my character. It was the last day of class, and there would be no holding back.
I channeled my nervousness into the scene. As my character, I allowed myself to mourn deeply as I looked at the photograph. My character's mental state made me look sad, and my sad expression made me, as my character, feel even sadder. I had created a cycle for the purpose of my performance.
Within moments, my character became overwhelmed with his sadness. I let out a deeply anguished cry as I looked at the picture. I then let out another cry, and fell to my knees, clutching the photograph. Finally, I fell all the way to the floor, clutching the photo as I closed my eyes and cried a few moments more to end the scene.
It was now the class's turn to interpret the scene and interact with me. First, my instructor - deeply moved himself - decided to play with me. He opened by asking me to take the imaginary object that made me so sad, and to pack it with my things. He talked about missing her, and it was obvious that he was my son. The two of us continued as deeply hurt characters.
"Take - Take it."
"I can't. It's too painful."
"Don't you miss her?"
"If I take it, I'll be reminded of her every time I see it. (Voice shaking, and almost in tears) Don't you feel the same pain?"
Stuff like that.
I went back to laying on the floor for the next improvised scene. The next player had a totally different interpretation. He was a police officer, and I was a drunk in public. He told me I had to get up and move.
It's amazing how inhibition disappears, and how clearly and easily you can think when you simply let go as we practiced for six weeks in this class.
Immediately, I understood his interpretation. My character acted like a bum, and jousted with him verbally.
"Get up and get out of here."
(In a sluggish voice) "Hey man, leave me alone."
"Get up, or I'm going to make you get up."
(Turning over to look at the officer) "You know what happened the last time somebody tried to make me get up?"
"What?"
I stood up, and got aggressive. He then pointed an imaginary gun at me, and I backed off.
"Hey, hey! I don't want any trouble....."
Stuff like that. The next classmate interpreted me as packing to go off to a war. She was an older lady, and she said something that made it obvious she was my mother. We had an intense, passionate argument. She was trying to forbid me from going off to fight in a war, and I was shouting about how I love my country more than I love myself, and how Granddad died for this country, and how someone has to go off and fight if we're going to be safe.
That scene was much longer. It's a shame you guys couldn't see me: it was amazing! Without needing any time to think, I was switching between totally different characters in one scene after another. I was totally uninhibited, and I was becoming some interesting characters - all on the fly.
All together, I acted out 9 short scenes, which kept me on the stage for about 20 minutes. I was so present and in the moment that even just afterwards, it wasn't easy to remember all that I had done, since I was switching into new characters without time to reflect on what I was doing.
In the last scene, I was packing my luggage when one of my classmates came on stage. She asked, "What are you doing, George? That's my dress!" As I learned in the class, I followed my impulse, and played along without any further thought. I changed the inflection of my voice - this character was going to be downright silly.
"Girl, what are you talking about? This is my dress!"
"Come on George, give me the dress."
She really wanted the (imaginary) dress. She tried to take it from me, and I jumped away from her. She started chasing me around, and I tripped backwards - intentionally.
"Girl, you made me trip over my luggage!"
I'd had the impulse to fall over the imaginary luggage in the room, knowing it would make the audience laugh.
Now that she had the dress, I changed course, and started talking about how I thought she was okay with me cross-dressing because she caught me that time after we first got together. She said she didn't want me dressing like that anymore. My newly-created character tried to justify it: "Even famous guys cross-dress! (eyebrows raised, making a gesture showing the height of someone tall) Dennis Rodman?"
I was a total clown! With the goofiest grin and tone of voice you can imagine, I begged with my hands together like a child. "Please!!! (In a slow, shy voice) Can I just wear the panties?" Finally, she said that would be okay. I gave her a great big hug, and said "I love you girl!"
My performance was over. From the moving sadness to the lighthearted humor, I had stolen the show that night. Everyone clapped - they were in awe of my performance! I heard the word "wow." One of my classmates tried to describe how I was "on it." In other words: I was totally in the zone. Totally uninhibited, totally present in the moment. It was a great way to end the night.
My first acting class was an amazing experience; exactly what I'd hoped for: a non-dating activity where I would get consistent social experience. And still, it was so much more than that! It taught me to let go of self-consciousness and be in the moment. It helped me further my quest to defeat inhibition, which is quickly starting to look like a thing of the past. It introduced me to a new hobby, where I literally play with other people, and will likely make many friends. And above all, it was a whole heck of a lot of fun.
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