The Pursuit For Something More

As a child I wanted to be a judge. Then came: lawyer, doctor, actor, lawyer, writer, psychiatrist, actor, and writer. Whether I get any of those is yet to be determined. It doesn’t concern me every waking hour. When I was a tween, I wanted to be accepted. I wanted to be popular, part of the in-crowd. I got that…for a while, at least. And then like all great empires, mine fell, because I moved. It didn’t concern me once I was gone. Now I’m a teen. You ask me: what do I want? Well, I don’t know. I think I want to be happy. I think I want to be loved. I think I want to be free. But what does that mean? And will I get it? How do I get it? And is it really, well, and truly what I want? Again, I don’t know. And that, I believe is the problem.

Rarely, does anyone know what they really want. We, or at least the majority of us, race through life with no goals that truly ignite our passion. It’s a self-destructive race; we’re moving towards what we think we want, because we’ve perceived it that way or someone has told us it is what we want. Being so caught up in the win once we achieve our goal, no one takes into consideration whether our successes are truly satisfactory; whether we care after we’ve had it. We feel the euphoria and elation of getting what they’ve been aiming for, but once that’s passed, what’s left? More wants, more desires. It’s a cycle that never ends.

As humans evolved, so apparently, did our needs. And when we achieved our newest needs, there always seemed to be more, newer ones, for us to purse. The basics stayed the same: food, water, shelter. However we seemed to need big houses because the warm, cozy ones weren’t enough; we seemed to need cars, because now we weren’t used to walking far, or couldn’t reach certain distances in certain amounts of time without one; we seemed to need phones instead of walking over and talking face-to-face. And those were just the material things.

We change – improve, create – to achieve our goals and yet once we do, we always want more; we always want better. It seems to me that we’re looking for something more, but because the question as to what it is remains unknown, our thirst for it pushes us to keep looking and pursuing it until we find it. Perhaps, we are all just lost in a pursuit together: a pursuit for something more; a pursuit for something greater.

Something Wicked This Way Comes...

“For the first time in my life, I’m finally about to do something truly wicked.”

-Elphaba

For the first time in my life, I saw something truly and joyously wicked, in all senses of the word. The musical production "Wicked" was an extraordinary experience I doubt I’ll ever forget. It was an extremely magical few hours for me; I was so enamored by the musical and it was so believable that I felt not like I was watching a play, but like I was witnessing real events unfolding in front of me to make history.

I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of effort it must have taken to create and present such a spectacular production. Sitting here and typing this, I can still remember the certain emotions evoked in me. Being brought up the way I was, I learned from an early age how not to show emotions that you didn’t want seen and analyzed. This musical pushed even my limits as none other ever has and compelled me to, in turn: laugh, fume, or cry - softly as it may have been. There were moments that sent shivers running along my body, and there were moments where I was only able to stay frozen, holding my breath anxiously for the scene to finish.

There was a moment of clarity where I was sitting there, watching a scene, and I had a renewed epiphany of why I loved acting so much. Looking at the characters onstage, one would never be able to think of them as ever having different relationships behind the scenes. From the moment I sat till long after the play was finished, I could believe in a witch whose skin was green; in a land where munchkins really roamed; in a place ruled by a wizard; in a witch who came and went in a bubble: I believed in "Wicked". I didn’t need help with my willing suspension of disbelief – I sat, the curtains rose, and I simply believed.

The story shows a back story that one could never have imagined: the Wicked Witch of the West might actually have been innocent of all but several decisions and one decidedly wicked kiss; Glinda the Good Witch might actually have had ulterior motives behind her naïve and pretty act to get higher up in the world; the Wizard of Oz was not only a fake, but might also have fathered Elphaba, later known as the Wicked With of the West. "Wicked" showed a whole mass of contradictions to the characters portrayed in the original "Wizard of Oz". It showed us not to always believe in what our eyes show us, or what we might hear and think we see. You never should judge a person unless you’ve met them for yourself. People didn’t really know Elphaba, yet she was branded the Wicked Witch of the West because they chose to believe in the wrong leaders. "Wicked" takes what we know and twists it so we question our knowledge of right or wrong. Because, really, things aren’t always black and white – there are shade of gray, as well.

PSA - Child Trafficking and Rape

A PSA, short for Public Service Announcement, is a powerful message about an issue that makes an impact on people. As of late, I’ve been surrounded by many PSAs because I’m involved with creating two. One of them is for my comprehensive drama course: it’s about rape and the aftermath. For this class, we are not fully creating a PSA, just using the components of one for our presentation. In my specialty acting course, our group of four is creating a PSA about child trafficking.

Studying these issues - seeing what they do to people, how they ruin lives - is no easy feat. Rape seems so distant for many; people who aren’t affected by it aren’t often very conscious of it. However, for the ones touched and deeply affected by rape, it’s never far from their thoughts: it rules their actions and reactions; feeds their fear and distrust; causes anguish and trauma, be it mental or physical. We, the unaffected, walk without having the fear of those who walk right by us, we talk freely to strangers without second thoughts, we enjoy what we have without a thought for those who cannot. We may know the meaning of rape, but many of us don’t have any first-hand experience of it, and so it remains trivial to our lives filled with easy laughter and joy.

Child trafficking is similar in many ways. People want to ignore the bad things that happen in the world; they want to turn their back on them. I recently had an intriguing conversation with someone about child trafficking. When I mentioned what I was doing for my PSA, I had to explain it to him and once he full understood, we discussed the why. Why do people do this? Why do people participate? Why do people stand by and let it happen? He thought it was for money. However, the gears in my head were rotating in a different direction, and I began to wonder about those who already had enough money, yet still had a part in such horrible things. Are some people really just that horrible and sick that they’d traffic a child for their personal amusement? Because they had nothing better to do? Or maybe they were being forced. But it makes me wonder what human being, with a millionth of a drop of compassion, would take part in this atrocity, even if rebelling meant losing their own life. I would never be able to live knowing I’d sent innocents into the hands of monsters.

I wonder why so many of us, with all our sympathy and passion, lie here in wait for others to help. Is it just that people refuse to acknowledge the sickening doings of others? Do things like this even evoke the same response of disbelief and disgust in everyone? Or do some just think of it dispassionately? Because after all, if it isn’t affecting them, it’s not important. Maybe some just deny the knowledge of what’s happening around them because they don’t want to believe it - they can’t handle it or they don’t want it to ruin the perfect image they have of the world; or maybe it’s because they don’t want to be targeted for trying to help. Are so many people really that weak? If we all stand together and strong, we can defeat this. It may take time and it may take a lot of effort, but in the end there shouldn’t be a single child crying out unheard in the middle of the night, for his or her mother. The world was once a safe place. All I ask is that it should be again.

Harlequin

Harlequin. One simple word, yet it brings about so much confusion. On the Friday before Halloween, we had our very own dress-up day at school. I’d had this dream of being Harlequin in my head for about a year, and finally, it became my reality. Of course, the end product didn’t quite match the image in my head, but overall it was creative and extremely fun to put together.

I wanted to be Harlequin because it related to me for I am a performer, and also since the grace of the character appealed to me. On Friday, I had the two colors red and black mixed and matched all through my outfit, and for my final piece de resistance, I wore a beautiful masquerade mask. Being an actor, I decided to go all the way, and in each class, to actually be Harlequin – or at least the female version of him. Once classes began, I tried to speak as little as possible except when necessary.

It was interesting to see others’ reactions to my character, and also judge how I played it. I don’t think many people try to look deeper than the surface: I am wearing a costume similar to a clown, so I must be one. I’m not speaking, so I must be a mime. I’m over-exaggerating all of my actions and adding a flourish to them, so I must be over-dramatic. Although the last is at times true, people tend place stereotypical labels on everything. But, why? Is it just because they’re uncomfortable with the mystery or lack of knowledge? Or is it simply an obsessive need to classify everything so you can pretend to understand it? The questions remain a mystery.

Another thing is, as an actor I’m taught to look deeper than the surface, because that’s where I find the roots of the emotions and thoughts; that’s where I find the true character. So many people fail to do that. I was quite disappointed to realize that the majority of people breeze through life without observing and trying to understand. They take the façade you grant them - the fake performance you present - and believe in it without a single doubt about it. In the end, it’s usually the character they see and not the real person.

SilkyShine

Lights. Camera. Action. Three simple words that bring such a large bout of nerves. On the 18th of October, each person in our Drama class was to choose a script for a commercial and told we’d be presenting them on the 21st. It seemed easy enough. I chose ‘SilkyShine Shampoo and Conditioner’ as my product. I memorized my lines as advised, repeating them over and over until I was saying them in my sleep. Next I had to get my product. It consisted of a shampoo bottle with the old label peeled off, and my very own “SilkyShine” label placed on. I had my lines, and now I also had my product. I needed my costume: to go with the hair product theme, I chose a light, breezy summer dress in a lovely shade of purple. I’d need the splash of color if we were performing in front of the black curtains – the last thing I wanted was to blend into them. All that was left now was the actual performance.

One of the twelfth graders from the Acting Academy class came in to film our commercials, and we were set. As luck would have it, we were presenting from the bottom of the list up – that meant I was first! No pressure, right? Wrong. My old hard-fought stage fright returned twice as hard. My first take seemed horrible from my point of view: I knew I was speeding through the lines faster than a racecar. I was supported and advised to take a deep breath, and so I did. It definitely helped. My previous experience in dealing with things unpleasant to me helped to cap the lid on my negative emotions and project my positive. My second take was okay from my point of view and although my friends told me it was good, I personally believe I could have done much better.

This experience definitely proves that acting is not easy. It can be extremely hard to step out into the lights and perform because you have that inner voice telling you that you’re setting yourself up for failure and embarrassment. Maybe I’ll never get over the nerves; maybe the first few moments will always be like that for me. Either way, I got out there and I did what I could do, and that for me, is something to be unfailingly proud of.

Halloween Haunt at Wonderland

Weeks before Thanksgiving weekend, I had been anticipating an outrageously fun event formerly called Fear Fest yet currently named Halloween Haunt. My sister and I picked and chose many things: whom to go with, which attractions to attend (for lack of time), etc. However, on the day of, our careful planning got thrown to the wind: our cousins had bailed, we already had purchased our tickets, and we still couldn’t agree on what all to fit into our seemingly short schedule. Very last minute indeed, we each got a friend on board, and geared up for what would be apparently the thrill of our fall 2010 so far. Stopping for only a Starbucks on the way to be our fuel and energy, we made it in record time.

Now, here I was, expecting to get scared out of my wits, and having fun while at it. However, I did not expect myself to be observing the “monsters” (aka dressed up park employees) as they did their thing. So wrapped up I had been in planning this event, it simply hadn’t occurred to me earlier that I could witness and learn from this terrifying yet exhilarating experience. I went on rides as is the regular routine at amusement parks, but I also interacted with the monsters. I closely watched the couple of mimes (they couldn’t talk for their throats had been ripped out) that sat with us during the length of time it took my friend to devour a funnel cake. I engaged them in (one-sided) conversation simply to see how they acted and reacted, their mannerisms and peculiarities. I continued this with the other monsters that were in various haunted houses and/or roaming the grounds.

I was impressed by how well many of them were able to be so convincing. For all of Thanksgiving Day, I could not rid this experience from my mind. They had been so realistic that their freaky façade managed to thoroughly enthrall me. I can definitely say that it was an excellent experience that I both enjoyed and learned from. I also am positive I will be going again, be it once more this month or next year, it doesn’t really matter. I’m simply sure that this experience delighted me as a person and as an actor...

Yours in eternity,

Faye Night

Enigma vs. Prolific

When someone says “branding”, the common thought that comes to mind is the physical type of branding you would do with a hot poker. Yet for our class, it meant something else: the creation of a production company.

First, we were divided into two separate units; we were on our own, yet ultimately together. The process took place over approximately two weeks. We needed positions, a name, company colors, a mission statement, a vision statement, a website, and a presentation for all the above. The positions were figured out on the first day, however the search for the rest bore us no fruit. We were off to a slow start, indeed. Though it seemed that the presentation date was so far away, we knew all too well how little time we truly had. This must have hit home as, the next day, we finally got the company colors settled, and our company name with it: we would be Enigma Productions. We had also decided on who would write the mission and vision statements and who was to be in charge of the website.

Things seemed to be going considerably well; that should have been enough to foreshadow the trouble to come. Our group had been lucky to gain people with strong personalities and a wealth of ideas, yet we were only creating one production company and so only limited ideas could be chosen. For several days after, our group was at heads, causing some unrest. I made my choices and with them I stayed strong, waiting uneasily for this tempest to pass. However we handled the situation, whatever the out come might have been, we banded together to rescue Enigma from the destruction we ourselves had wrought. The rest of the time was simply structured chaos as we rushed to pick up the pieces. We had burned much in our conflicts, yet from the ashes of our destruction, like a newborn phoenix, rose Enigma Productions.

The eight of October arrived, and from 7 to 9 am, we tied up last minute threads. We were weary, yet we stood strong; we gave it all our best. In the end, we did not win, but standing away from the compulsion of the moment, I remember an old saying: “It’s not whether you win or you lose. It’s about how you played the game.” And so fifteen simple words sum up these weeks: we had good times and bad, yet we all played with our hearts and souls and in the end, that’s what really counts.

Love and other sports like it,

Faye Night