Ena - Day 23
Ena: Well, it’s official – today I look as bad as I feel. I’d like to just leave it at that, but I guess I should say a bit more. Today has been crap. I could not figure out what to wear this morning and left the house feeling disgruntled, depressed, completely defeated.
Today I don’t want to participate in this project anymore. Today I feel like a failure. Today I’m over it. But, this is just today…hopefully this is just today.
On days like today, trying to dress well makes me feel worse about myself than dressing like a slob – at least when I dress like a slob looking bad is my choice. I really have nothing more to say. Why is this so hard?
Bina - Day 23
Bina: Acting can be weird. Especially when you’ve been out of the game for a few years, like me. It can all seem slightly amusing at first. But suddenly you’re in a rehearsal where you’re asked to play the “Provocative Question” game, and you do not want to play the “Provocative Question” game, but you play anyway. For those who do not know, this is played by sitting two actors across from each other, and one actor asks the other a provocative question of their choosing, i.e. “When was the last time you had sex?” or “Do you like to do it with animals?” Yes, actors are perverts so more often than not, your provocative question is going to be sexual in nature. After the first actor asks the question, the second makes eye contact and repeats the question back. Then you are asked to make observations about the other actor’s reactions. I’m fairly private (this blog is a major departure) so I kinda hate this game. The observations made about me were that I am guarded, bitter, and a little sad. Well, damn. I thought I was doing a decent job of masking my inner turmoil. I’m glad that we could all play this delightful little game and expose my current insecurities to the other actors here whom I barely know.
While at some other juncture in my life, I might have laughed off those observations, last night they got stuck in my craw, so to speak. I couldn’t shake them. Boys from the cast were trying to chat me up (as I said, perverts) and all I could think was “Leave me be! Can’t you see right through me? Can’t you see that I’m guarded, bitter, and sad?!” What did I think? Throwing on a cute skirt and booties would suddenly solve all my problems? Well, no. But I am finding myself on a bit more of an emotional rollercoaster than I might have expected – one that is now open to the public.
I awoke at 4am to a chirping smoke alarm and a freezing apartment, not to mention the words “guarded, bitter, and sad” all rolling around in my head. I replaced the battery in the smoke alarm but I couldn’t turn the words off. Over and over. This catapulted me into pretty much full-blown anxiety attack mode. I felt overwhelmed, by the thought of getting up and baking for today’s potluck, of standing in front of the whole department for the Gingerbread competition announcements, of attempting to look decent for our pictures, of sitting in aggravating meetings while I have a full workload, and of going back to rehearsal and doing the show again tonight. The average person probably deals with much more on a daily basis but I managed to make myself physically ill. I thought “Maybe I should just stay home where no one can see my guarded, bitter, sad self.” But I decided to try to do one thing at a time, with lots of deep breaths, and see how far I could get. I made a sweet potato casserole for the potluck, which is now all gone. I got dressed. We came in 2nd place in the Gingerbread House Contest, missing 1st place by a measly 3 votes, which I find shocking, considering the winning entry below. And I’m here, which for me today, was a feat in itself.