"no thanks. i have a boyfriend."

i just got home from a party and didn't even get drunk. amazing. 

i networked with so many people from my school. 

only one creeper hit on me, so i went on and on AND ON about my boyfriend until he went away.

great job me. 

today was a good day. acting technique was eh today ..morgan was angry. it was hilarious. because when she's angry- she is vicious. 

shakespeare went well, david vando talks loudly for no reason. it's really fun times. i was type cast as Lady Macbeth...he told me not to take it personally.

acting for film- we got to read with steve today. i did well. 

if you're an actor, you know that feeling....that feeling where you let yourself go completely and get lost in the character & when you've finished your breath is a bit heavier and you aren't quite sure what you just did. my ability (to let myself go completely) is getting so much stronger and i can feel it. i can surrender to the character. 

today in acting for film, it felt so natural. I wasn't thinking- i let go. i listen to what bob tells me. I take direction well. and i've gained an awareness of the camera and my body and those subtle movements that people can read so much from. 

i had a consultation with my voice and movement teacher the other day and we mostly practice the monologue with voice exercises aka it sounds mechanical and strange. I had some worries that I wouldn't be able to act while keeping the support in my voice (it's much harder to let go when you're thinking so damn much) but she told me to just give it a try.

so i started...

"I don't know. I don't know what the problem is. I've been trying to write about the city, you know, my experiences here. Then I decided to write a love story, but that's not working out either. My hero sounds more like a clothing store dummy than a real live human being, and, from what I hear, editors aren't fond of black-mustachioed figures nowadays. I've been fighting with him for a week now, the stubborn mule. He won't make love to my heroine. He refuses. I've tried to put red blood in his veins, but the two of them just won't get together- they're as far apart as the day I sat down to write. I'm at my wit's end. I've bitten off nearly half of my fingernails-look-see? There's nothing wrong with my heroine- I'm sre of that. She's a fascinating, mysterious, graceful creature, full of wit and passion and adventure, but not once has he clasped her to him fiercely or pressed his lips to her hair, her eyes, her cheeks. He hasn't even had the guts to "devour her with his gaze" as us writers like to say. This morning I thought he might be showing some signs of life. He was developing possibilites. But nothing came of it. He wimped out. That's why I decided to wash my hair and come out here- to get away from him for a little while. Back home? I taught school-and hated it. But I kept on teaching until I 'd saved five hundred dollars. All the other girls teach until they've saved five hundred dollars- then they pack two suit cases and go to Europe for the summer. But I saved my five hundred for New York. I've been here six months now, and the five hundred has shrunk to almost nothing, and if I don't break into the magazines pretty soon... Then, I'll have to go back and teach thirty-seven young devils that six times five is thirty, put down the naught and carry six, that a rhetorical question requires no answer, and that the French are a gay people fond of light wines and dancing. But I'll scrimp on everything from hair pins to shoes, and back again until I've saved up another five hundred, and then I'll try it all over again because-I-can-write. I'm going to make it! I'm going to make this town count me as the four million and oneth! Sometimes I get so tired of being nobody at all, with not even enough cleverness to wrest a living from this big city, that I want to stand out at the end of the curb and just scream! Take off my hat, and wave, and shout, "HEY YOU FOUR MILLION SELF-ABSORBED, UNCARING PEOPLE, I'm Mary Louise Moss, from Escanaba, Michigan, and I like your town, and i want to stay here! Won't you please pay some attention to me! Just a little bit!" No one even knows I'm here except...well...myself and the rent collector."

By the time I was finished...there were tears in my eyes.

and they weren't mine, they were Mary's.