MY FRIENDS JUST HAD A BABY!
Congrats to Neil and Elle on a healthy baby boy!!
Reblog if you are a writer.
proving a point to my mom.
also, im curious as to how much of the tumblr population writes
(not the greatest writer, but I am one hehe)
Two Weeks
Two weeks from today, I will be an official graduate from the University at Albany.
Scary, yeah?
As the day approaches, I’m doing several things:
-Crossing things off my bucket list, having either done them, or realizing they’re silly
-Having panic attacks
-Finding opportunities to be with friends, homework and finals be damned
-Applying to every job an english major would be semi-competent at
-Taking deep breaths
But despite the encroaching date of graduation, some days are just perfect. Yesterday was a perfect day.
Woke up, and met my high school teacher for an honors college ceremony of recognition. We went to the Ballroom and got caught up. There, we met my thesis advisor. My folks showed up late, as is the Cahill fashion.
And we had a wonderful lunch, with other families of honors graduates. Looking around that ballroom, listening to the lists of honors, and thesis titles, I realized that we had did it. We had finished college, and not only did we come out the other side, more mature and more experienced, we contributed new work. We used existing materials, and research, and used them to create work that is not just new, but applicable!
And then pictures and coffee and certificates and smiles.
Afterwards, my Dad and I looked at each other. “Avengers?” we asked each other.
“Avengers!” we both said. My Mom rolled her eyes.
It was my second time seeing it, their first. My Dad, who is Captain Judgement when it comes to movies, absolutely loved it. He was floored! Quite fun to watch their reactions. Even Mom loved it, and she’s not really into comics. Well done Whedon, well done.
And then we zoomed back to campus, because I had an improv show that night, my last one. My folks have never seen me do improv, not really. So it was fun to watch their reactions to my work. I was a shaman, a duck, a dentist, a hairdresser, a beauty queen, and a toucan man all in an hour. I love improv.
It was also my last show too, with my comedy club, The Sketchy Characters. It’s sad to think my performance time with them is over; hell, I get sad just thinking of it now.
But people laughed and I had fun, and they had fun. That’s all that matters.
Afterwards, I went out for drinks and food with some great friends.
And I had a perfect day.
Letter of Intent
Because I stay up late into the night, wishing I could say something memorable, and poignant about the human experience.
Because great art won’t spring into existence on its own.
Because there is a power in stories, and I want to learn it.
Because words can heal, and stories can break, only to rebuild.
Because there is a science to it all; words form, paragraphs stack, pages flip, covers close. From beginning to end, there is a movement, and it is beautiful.
Because there is only so much you can do on the Internet.
Because it is not enough to simply paint the ocean, and enjoy the surface.
Because this is one of the only things I’m good at, and that I love.
Because I fear if I stop, I’ll never try it again.
Because life will try and tell me to stop, and I can’t hear it over the typing.
Because I’ve spent too much time building worlds in my mind, and they need to get out and live, damn it.
Because the one thing I worry about more than my very existence, is what will I leave behind to be remembered by?
Because this makes sense. Against economics, accounting, chemistry, biology, law, and every other stable job option, this is what makes the most sense.
So why do I write?
Because.
My Former Roommate
http://gentlemanshuffle.ytmnd.com/
I believe this is the key to humanity’s future!
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Andrew Scott reading: On The Road by Jack Kerouac.
Now we’re heading down to New Orleans to dig Old Bull Lee and ain’t that going to be kicks and listen will you to this old tenorman blow his top” — he shot up the radio volume till the car shuddered — “and listen to him tell the story and put down true relaxation and knowledge.”
We all jumped to the music and agreed. The purity of the road. The white line in the middle of the highway unrolled and hugged our left front tire as if glued to our groove. Dean hunched his muscular neck, T-shirted in the winter night, and blasted the car along. He insisted I drive through Baltimore for traffic practice; that was all right, except he and Marylou insisted on steering while they kissed and fooled around. It was crazy; the radio was on full blast. Dean beat drums on the dashboard till a great sag developed in it; I did too. The poor Hudson — the slow boat to China — was receiving her beating.
Moriarty reading Kerouac? Yes. Yes that’ll work.
I got up this morning, and read the thirty or so questions that people had left in the last 8 hours. And apart from the few that wanted to tell me that, honestly, there’s nothing in the whole world like a photo of a gentleman holding a small yellow chainsaw, most of the rest of them were writing…
God, I needed this right now. Thanks Neil.
Enormously Human
I auditioned for a show Sunday, and had callbacks last night. I did my best, followed every direction, put a smile on, and thought I did an overall good job, the best I can. I found out this morning that I did not get the part. Despite the words of support and encouragement from the director, a spectacularly sweet woman, who, when she says such encouragement, comes from a place of directness and honesty others have trouble expressing, despite her assurances that it was such a difficult decision on who to cast, and that I caused her all sorts of trouble because we were both so good, despite all this, I was crushed. My theatre department is closing, in a way; it’ll still be available as a minor, but the official department has been resigned to the fate of dinosaurs and parachute pants. I really wanted to be a part of the last departmental production, in a role I thought was a great fit, with friends who are wonderful and a director who would’ve been a pleasure to work with. But I was not chosen for the role. And despite doing my best, and despite words of encouragement, and despite losing to a good friend of mine who is equally talented, I still felt bitter, rejected, and upset. And I hate that.
So why does it make me feel this way? Logic is rejected, and my mind swirls with thoughts, plagued by self-doubt and self-pity, retreating to an almost child-like mindset of accusation, and justification, all in an effort to save face, somehow.
I suppose it is just another thing I have to learn, as everyone does. Rejection is horrible, and it fills you with a kind of grasping need, reaching for someone, or something, if only to hold onto them and ask, “Aren’t I worthwhile?”
The answer is yes, of course you are! There is tremendous value in everyone, and I guess that’s the thing to remember. Despite the petty feelings, and jealousy, and sadness, these things happen. And even though there is a bitter taste, you have to eat it sometimes; otherwise you won’t know how to handle it later when it rears its ugly head. You have to have it sometimes, because it’s not a one time occurrence; it may happen to you once, twice, a thousand more times.
Putting yourself out there is extremely brave and it is scary as all hell. But if you are an actor or a writer, or an artist, or a singer, or a dancer, or a comedian, or anyone who has to stand in front of an audience, keep doing it. Keep it up, through the rejections, through the successes, through the frustrating, stomach churning hours when you look at your phone, waiting for a callback. Through the bitterness of rejection, the elation of success, keep it up.
Because how else are you going to do what you love if you don’t put yourself out there?
Congrats to my great friends who got cast, and I wish them nothing but luck and laughs as they start this new show. Me? I’ll be there front row, cheering ‘em on.
And I’ll keep on trying. I hope you all do too.
