Thanksgiving 2008

November 27, 2008

I had an audition on Monday, the first since I’ve had the baby.  I was really on the fence about going because I was exhausted and Baby M had a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon and I didn’t think I’d have time to prep.  My friend encouraged me to go.

The verdict was that I didn’t suck, but I was definitely not prepared.  I was not in the right state of mind mentally and physically.  However, I do not regret going on the audition.  It gave me a barometer of where I was and what I need to do to get back into my audition mode.  I’m looking to take an audition technique class next month.

In writing news, the screenplay group is on hold this week and meeting up first week in December.  I’m still writing though.  How the hell did Sylvestor Stallone write Rocky in a week?  Or was it 3 days?

I’m also taking the solo show class which has been quite challenging.  I’ve wanted to write a solo show for some time and is precisely what I’ve been looking for.  The people are extremely talented, the teacher is experienced and has an excellent track record of getting shows off the ground.  Facing myself and my life has been interestingly tough.  I knew one really respected actress who took this class and she said: “After a while I realized I just need therapy!”  and I laughed because I knew what she meant.

Why am I doing this with a newborn infant?  Am I insane?  Actually, if I didn’t have a creative outlet with other creative people I believe I would be really insane.  Keeping myself tapped in and creating help me be a better person and therefore a better mother.  I never want to feel resentful towards my daughter because she is one of the greatest gifts ever bestowed upon me.   I want her to see her mother happy and fulfilled while hopefully being a caring and loving mom.

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One Response to “Thanksgiving 2008”

  1. Assentia Says:

    You’re doing it for the same reason that I’m juggling NaBloPoMo, NaNoWriMo, and a five-month-old. New mothers need at least one adult pursuit in their lives, or they end up chewing furniture. (In my case, 2K words a day keep postpartum depression away.)


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