I spent all day delirious with personal creativity. I don’t protest to being anyone other than myself, I’m no Daniel-Day Lewis and I don’t pretend to be. But for me, I could feel those blasted walls crumble around me through hours of rehearsal, an audition for one of the greatest plays I’ve read to date (Uncle Vanya, for those of you interested), and a zombie war in an improv class. I had such a wonderful time learning how to be comfortable in my own skin, to identify with precisely who Kendal is and who she can be. I felt myself peel away society’s layers and step out fresh and new, a happy, elated, connected person. I was speeding through this meticulous, delicate, unbalanced world of art.
And then, it happened. My admiration for the progress I made within just 8 hours came tumbling into a fiery car crash worthy of an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. And I became ordinary once more. A simple girl with classic mistakes of pride, vanity, and the inability to admit that I am incapable of doing everything I would like to. And I found there were some hurt people in the explosion’s aftermath. My lungs are not the only ones breathing air in this great, vast world and tonight was a sober reminder that sometimes saying “no” is the kindest thing you could say to a person. It might make a night a whole lot more magical for them.