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jalen_mara
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Name: Meg
Gender: Female
Interests: Acting, reading, writing. Traveling, Colin Farrell, Ireland. Graduating. God's pretty cool.
Expertise: Acting, and English. Not acting like I'm English... I'm Irish, although I can't do the accent to save my life. Scottish, I'm killer at. ;)
Occupation: Artist
Industry: Entertainment
Message: message me
AIM:  jalen_mara
Member Since:
2/3/2005
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| I can divide my life into two categories- BA and AA. I've said this for a long time, and while the obvious abbreviations are misleading, (neither stand for Bachelor of Arts nor Alcoholics Anonymous) both are extremely accurate. Ten years ago today I will have left for Australia and New Zealand. My life easily falls into the before and after categories of that excursion.
I've realized this for a long time, but nothing brought it as clearly to mind as a discussion I just finished with my boss. We were talking about my current production and my multiple year goal set and plans. He made the statement that even though I'm talented, he didn't feel I was ready to branch out to New York yet. I agreed, and said that was why my plan was a multi-year set. I have some growing to do.
Our conversation progressed, each of us telling formative stories from our childhood. His involved his struggle with his sexuality, mine involved an outward expression of behavior based on an older sister whose behavior left much to be desired. But, ultimately, I said- I make decisions based on who I am and what I believe to be right.
He became very quiet. For a moment, neither of us said a word. Finally, he just sighed and said that he made his decisions based on what his current life position demanded of him.
I just looked at him for a moment before saying, "You don't know who you are, do you?"
His eyes found mine, quizzical. I tried to explain as best I could. For as much as I am the Weekend Manager of Inn on the Creek, or an actress, I am first and foremost Megan. There are fundamental things about me that will never change. Will is so caught up in being what he is that he has neglected to find out who he is. I told him that this made me sad for him.
For as much as both of our journeys are ones of discovery, my journey is from myself, to discover the world around me. Will has found the world, but lost himself. And I realized in that moment, that a similar moment has shaped my life more than I ever thought possible.
Ten years ago today, I left for Australia and never looked back.
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| I have just finished watching my favorite (and most heart-wrenching) episode of MASH. It is the episode where Radar leaves to go back home, and in the process of saying goodbye, the choppers start to bring in wounded, preempting the party fellow 4077 peeps had planned. Even now, thinking on the goodbyes my eyes well up with tears. This episode of MASH is so moving, it's almost astonishing. From the kisses for Peg and Erin to the salute from Hawkeye, to the final symbolic movement of Radar's journey from boy to man by leaving his teddy bear behind, I find that each segment of this episode to be equally moving and brilliant.
I always cry whenever I catch this episode. Something about it is inherently sad and joyous at the same time. But the piece that always moves me the most is the teddy bear that it left behind. My tears always turn to full, uncontrollable sobs at that point. Always for the same reason - the loss of innocence.
I don't know if you have ever had the pleasure of seeing Johnny Depp's Finding Neverland. If you have not, I highly recommend it. There is a similar scene in the movie in which George, the eldest of Kate Winslet's children comes to Depp's character (author of Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie) and voices his concerns about his mother, grandmother, and younger brothers. Depp sadness is profound, as is his silence. George simply looks at him, his voice steady and heavy with responsibility. Depp simply sighs and says that George has grown up, "the boy has become a man". And in that moment, you know that he can never go back to being what he once was, and you also know that the child was too young for that kind of decision.
George became the name of the father in the play, whereas his younger brother's namesakes in the play became John, Peter, and Michael.
Who, I wonder, was the truest of the lost boys...
It has been a few weeks since my last post, and for that I am sorry. Got caught up with the play, and with becoming Emily. She was so unlike me, and yet... not. She was a challenge, but one that I hoped I stood up to and claimed as my own. I miss her voice in my head. Perhaps the sobbing tonight brought her near for one last goodbye.
I had dinner with an old friend tonight. I was reminded of why we were friends all these years, and even more so why we do not communicate as easily as we once did. Some say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I actually think it's the promise of reunification that brings about happy, nostalgic memories. Wild fantasies that abound with what could have been, and then the reality comes with what is most decidedly not...
That's all human being are... just blind people. That's what Emily thinks, and that's what I think as well. Blind people who walk themselves into the same mistakes over and over again, if to only be reminded at the end why things didn't go the way of the illustrious "what if"...
And yet, there is something inherently human about wanting something that you can't have. Why? I don't know. Maybe for the challenge of it all. Maybe for the hope of someday being able to attain the unattainable. Maybe because being all alone in Harry Potter's cupboard, it's the only thing you have to hold onto some days. "Who knows... down the block, down the street, maybe tonight..." Tony sings to Maria.
"Maybe tonight...."
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| I feel like writing today, but that is unfortunate because I am down a finger with which to type. You see, this morning, I had borrowed my boss' swiss army knife in order to open some obstinate packaging. Grand- just one problem. In my haste to open said package, I neglected to observe which way the inordinately sharp knife was facing. After applying much pressure and moving what I thought was the correct and proper way, I felt a searing pain coming from my right index finger. Astonished, I looked down only to find my poor, sad, now abused digit drowning in a sea of my own blood.
I immediately applied pressure to the [quite deep] wound and waited for the bleeding to at least slow before I attemtped to wash it out. The process took quite a bit of time actually, what with the inevitable search for antiseptic, neosporin, and a band-aid. Now my finger is very sore, and virtually inoperable. Not only did I slice the fingertip, but I somehow either a) sliced completely through my finger and cut through the nail as well (something I find unlikely given that the bleeding did eventually stop and I do not have any visual on having 2 right index fingers); or b) when I pulled my finger away from the blade, I rolled my finger and then split the nail all the way down to the nail bed (I think this the more likely of the 2 possibilities).
Either way, I hope to save the nail. I doubt it will grow back in time for the production, and it just would not do to have Emily Webb looking as though she lost a finger to gangrenous case of frostbite. Nevertheless- my finger does hurt quite a bit, and I am just now discovering how ungrateful I am towards just this one finger. For instance, I did not realize that the right index finger is the one that I use primarily while typing. I'm getting along all right, but my third finger is not used to the adaptation yet. My injured finger is the finger I use to put my contacts in, to apply the needed pressure while writing anything, to point or indicate direction (all right, so that one still works), to turn pages in books, to press buttons, to move the mouse on my laptop... The list conceivably goes on forever... And I am at a loss.
I bought 2 movies and a clothes rack yesterday. The formers were luxuries needed to keep my sanity intact while in this stage of my existence, and the latter was something desperately craved because I have no closet.
No, wait. Strike that. I do have a closet, the only problem is I live in it. But, I cannot complain as I do not have to pay any type of rent whatsoever. I have reached an unspoken agreement with my boss. Instead of staying in a room in the inn proper and moving every time my room is rented out, I have moved into what is lovingly referred to as "The Baby Room." The name was agreed upon not because it was ever intended for and/or used as a nursery, but instead refers to its size. The room is a 10ft by 4ft room, with sloped ceilings that mean I can only stand upright in the very middle of the eaves. In this room as 1 twin bed, a nightstand, 1 dresser, a small tv stand and an old but still functional television.
It's... cozy...
Needless to say, all of my clothes do not fit into said dresser, so the clothes rack was bought to bring about some semblance of normalcy. Just one problem... it's too tall for the room. BUT! I have not given up hope yet. On my days off this week (Monday and Tuesday), I plan on a massive rearrangement- or more accurately misappropriation of my things. Hopefully the room and I can come to some sort of unspoken agreement.
I'm staring at one of the dvd's I got yesterday- Stranger than Fiction. I don't know if you ever had a chance to see that one. If not, go out and rent it tonight. It's worth at least one, if not multiple viewings. The basic premise of the movie is that life is fleeting, and we should make the most of it while we are able. One of those universal archetypes. I find myself agreeing- not because of any new discovery or epiphany, simply because it should be recognized.
Many people find the play Our Town to be boring and old fashioned, but I disagree. Not just because I'm now in it, mind you, but because of this similar timeless message. It's eternal message. That's actually my favorite part of the entire play. Allow me to explain-
The Stage Manager has just opened Act 3- Emily Webb has died in childbirth, and the fleetingness of life is at the forefront of everyone's minds. Just when we hit the brink of despair, Wilder and the Stage Manager find it paramount to remind us that even though things appear bleak- "We all know that something is eternal. And it ain't houses and it ain't names, and it ain't earth, and it ain't even the stars-- everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you'd be surprised how people are always letting go of that fact. There's something way down deep that's eternal about every human being."
I don't really know how to conclude these thoughts. I just find that passage so moving. Every night I sit backstage waiting to go on and join the rest of the dead souls lying in wait, and I know... Eternity is waiting.
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| I GOT THE LEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm Emily in Our Town!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*squees* | | |
| Actress Hell and Reality TV
Hmmm, these two topics coincide more that you know. LOl.
Right now I'm in Actress Hell, otherwise known as the time between an audition and the posting of the cast list. I've been here many times before, and will be here many times in the future, but unfortunately, this is one of those things that does not get easier with time. I tried out for a local production of Our Town. I know the director (he was one of my Theater profs in college), so hopefully he'll remember good things and cast me. He said good things about my audition, so I am optimistic about my chances of at least being cast. I'm sure there's some part somewhere that I may be able to do. They must need townspeople in a play called Our Town...
Secondly, I watched the very first show of Amazing Race All Stars tonight. I won't bore you with the mundane details, but know that two of my favorite people from a past show have been cast. What makes them one of my favorite teams are small, minute things like the fact that they scraped a bridge while driving in their original season and knocked the driver's side mirror completely off of a Winnebago. So, in honor of Danny and Oswald, I give you their top, laugh out loud quotes of the evening.
1. "Less martinis, more cardio!" (Oswald's response to Danny being winded after running full out with a 60 pound backpack)
2. "Keep stroking me, I like it." (Danny, upon receiving high praise about a job well done form Oswald)
3. "Right now, my hands are clammy and my face is going through menopause." (Oswald after landing in Quito, Ecuador)
4. "Oh, the glamour of it all."
5. "Lalalalalalalaaaaaaa!"
6. "Yeah! Land Rover here I come!" (Danny after discovering the true meaning of 4WD in Ecuador)
7. "If I can cut the nails off a horse, I can sure cut [women's] hair and give them a manicure." (Oswald after learning that the detour was a choice beween searching through a field for something pointless, or wrangling a wild mustang and trimming its hooves, mane, and tail)
Those all made me giggle. :) | | |
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