Supply and Demand

Last night I met up with my old theatre friend, Angela, who invited me to tag along to an acting class with her. I've met up with no less than three actor friends this trip, and they've all raved about their respective acting classes and how phenomenal their instructors are. Going to an acting class seemed like an essential part of the L.A. experience, and after my extended Hollywood-curb-sit, where men walked by yelling "I didn't f---ing touch her!!!" and women walked by looking terrified... I was all about trying to get the true L.A. experience.

Therefore, after being served Italian food by a beautiful but dim-witted clone of Jake Gyllenhall, Angela and I went to class.

To be perfectly honest, the instructor seemed more narcissistic than phenomenal. He launched into great big long stories about his various experiences and his hilarious antics, and at times, micro-directed his acting students, correcting them on things as minute as their tone of voice or their posture. Still, it was fun for me to be back in that environment. "Let's play," the teacher would say before calling students up. And that's what we were doing. The teacher graciously let me "play" too, and had me do first a monologue, and later a scene with him. I had fun.

When he was getting me ready to do the scene, he said, "Okay, now here are the rules: I need to know what you're feeling so that I know how to respond. The words, the script-- that's incidental. The words could be anything. What matters is what I'm getting from you."

In high-school, when doing script work in theatre classes, my directors had us identify an objective for every single line.

"What do you WANT?" they'd ask. "What are you trying to GET from the other person? That desire for something needs to fuel every line!"

We'd have to write those objectives down in our scripts, followed by the different tactics our characters employed to get those things. It became an ingrained understanding in me that human interaction is about trying to GET something from someone else.

Or at least, it is if you want to create good drama.

Last night in that acting class, I realized that I don't want to operate under "seeking an objective" anymore. I don't want to have conversations that depend completely on what the other person gives me. I don't want to operate under that selfish mentality-- that notion that someone is only worth what they're GIVING me. I've realized, after a lot of processing, that I've inflicted and incurred a lot of pain by asserting this pattern of communicating. I've NEEDED, now GIVE ME, this is what I WANT from you. That voice doesn't come from a strong, free, centered person. Right? Seeking "objectives"-- basing my behavior solely off what another can person give to me-- sets me up to be dependent on someone else, and means my interactions with other people are selfishly motivated. AND, as I'm pullingpullingpulling, they're forced to either give under pressure, balk under demand, or join in the game to get something out of ME.

Drama, indeed.

Being in L.A. has once again confirmed that it was the right decision to pursue teaching in Seattle rather than acting in L.A. This place gives me heavy boots. Actors who want to "make it" must create an identify that is marketable-- something that people want to buy and sell. They are praised and criticized on how well they can pretend to be someone else, and succeed or fail based on how well they play the game. L.A., as I've been told, is alllll about networking. Who can help me here? Who can I meet that will connect me with this person? What can this person do for me?

Another friend I met up with during this trip is Elijah, who's pursuing music here. At first, I thought Eli was trying to play the game just like everyone else. But that's not the case. Eli told me the main reason he feels like he's supposed to be in L.A. right now is to reject "the game" and talk to people like PEOPLE. He told me about conversations he's had that he ends simply with, "Well this was great. Hope to see you again soon." He said people are always surprised by that-- they're waiting for his sales pitch, waiting to be told what they can do for him. But Eli just has a good conversation with them, and leaves it at that. He told me that his music career has taken a far back-seat to just having conversations with people, and trying to help them escape the game for a little bit.

And I thought that was so cool.

Before we headed out to a pub to catch up, Eli played a song on my guitar, called "Grace." It shattered me-- it was so beautiful. Hit me in that place that makes you sad and lifted and transported all at once. And his song was all about affirming this other person, and expressing the hope that they would experience grace. It was a GIVING song.

I fear that this blog will ultimately come across as highly judgmental. I don't want to tear down L.A. or the people that are trying so hard to make a living within it. As with any place, there is beauty here and there is darkness. And people are doing incredible things-- Angela's monologue in class hit me the same way Eli's song did-- it was breath-taking. Still, some of the idiosyncrasies of L.A. led me to look inward and consider...

I want to give words to people that don't demand anything in return. I want to be myself. I don't want to shape-shift so that I can be bought and sold. And I want to just be free and centered enough that I can say, "Well-- this is where I'm at," and not need the person I'm interacting with to respond in a certain way. I want to give-- not demand. I think that would be beautiful.




Now, off to San Diego.


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