The Ophelia Project
I just finally sat down and watched the Ophelia Project for the first time since... well... probably the summer of '03. I had been putting it off for so long, fearing... well, I guess fearing the feelings and emotions that would most probably burst like a dam while watching it. Better times... happier times... people lost to me. *shakes head* You know what I ended up thinking the whole time I watched it? I thought "I'm not very good." Ha! Yeah... all those feelings I was worried about prodding with a red hot poker, which is what I thought watching it again would do to me... and the best I can do is "I could have done that better." All the emotions I felt as Hamlet... everything I felt like I was going through on stage... and almost zero percent of it read to the audience, even in that small space. Even sitting here, being able to say most of my lines with myself, feeling what I felt when I did it on stage... but still not SEEING it. And I don't think I'm just being harsh on myself... I looked amateur, terrible. Maybe people like me won't ever be happy... maybe we're not meant to be happy, as it would be a flat out denial of who we really are: cynical perfectionists.
When I was younger, I used to hope and pray that I wouldn't end up unhappy like my father. I told myself that I was going to make sure that I LOVED my job, and I told myself that I owed that much to myself and my family (whoever that would be in the future). But now, as I get closer to all that... maybe I'm not going to be happy regardless of what I choose to do. Even if I start off loving it, it'll turn into something that I'll try to put off as long as I can... like my dad does. Staying up late, waking up early... because he'd rather have fun first and then get done what needs to be done at the last possible minute. I told myself, I SWORE to myself that I'd never turn out like that... now I can't think of a job out there that WON'T make me feel like that; do those things; be that man. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my dad... more than anything else... but I always noticed something inherently sad about him. Someone at the Second City said something like "Nobody does comedy because their life is perfect. We're all pretty fucked up." The comedy, the humor, hides so much pain... and I'll give my dad one thing: he gave me the ability to hide it better than most.
And I'll give myself one thing: I also watched "The Three Dollar Horror Film" again. It was from one of the plays Kyle and I did... and it was the first full scene that I wrote myself. First of all, the scene is seriously like 20 minutes. I don't know how the audience sat through that crap for that long. Secondly, even though I'm a complete bastard to myself, I can sit and say "Wow... you were really good in that. That's really funny... and you're in total command of that stage." What does that mean?
Honestly, I'm not just asking myself this time... what does that mean? Hey! Remember when Ken used to act?! That was before he "defended" our freedom from folk who weren't trying to take it from us. I love ya, Kenny... but it must feel like a really long time ago that you acted. It was literally a lifetime ago. And I've changed the subject because I was afraid of where the conversation was going. Give yourself a gold star if you didn't need me to tell you that.
I don't know what it means that I can applaud my comedy, but trash my tragedy. Perhaps I have higher dramatic standards... perhaps comedy is easier than drama... perhaps I secretly hate and love myself... perhaps that last one isn't really a secret... I don't know, you tell me. You're the smart one here. I'm just here for the food. Perhaps it's a good thing that I didn't curl into a fetal ball (ouch!) and cry while rocking back and forth when I watched the Ophelia Project. My actual body position is probably best described as sitting, arms crossed, shaking my head back and forth, occationally exclaiming "wow" or "come on" while watching myself. And I never gave Karen credit. She carried that show... and I was too busy wrapped up in loving and hating myself to even notice the command with which she took and held that stage. For not noticing something that amazing, I would have dumped me too. All I can say now is I'm sorry.