Smackdown

I had a curious meeting this week. It was pretty personal on a level that I couldn't have anticipated.

It was the first casting I have attended that (I was to discover) didn't call for any acting, but the familiarity of the organised seating, magnolia walls and the sound of ball point pens tapping against clipboards confirmed that it definitely was a casting. I won't discuss the details, but perhaps I'll reference it in time.

A couple of hours after this appointment, I arrived at a workshop where I recognised a girl who had briefly occupied the waiting room in the time that I had.

"Were you just at that casting?"

"Yes I was", she said.

"How did you find it?" I asked.

Her eyes were suddenly awash with tears. She cast her eyes down to the floor, brushed her hands over her cheeks and apologised for getting upset as I awkwardly tried to reassure her, whilst not being overly familiar. 

I've been thinking about it all week. The casting, the questions and the lead up to it all. 

I wondered if I would have responded differently if I had known what to expect. Or was the real issue the suppression of my own and evidently, this distressed girl's own insecurities. I'm yet to decide, but this episode certainly supports the notion of actors commonly finding comfort in their portrayal of others, over publicly addressing themselves.

Yesterday I had a boxing session with Marianne Marston. These sessions are held in a traditional no frills boxing gym, complete with free weights, old splattered blood stains, hanging bags and a number of boxing rings for sparring. As I warmed up, a young man armoured with a head guard, sparred with a more experienced, unguarded man. As the lesser experienced fighter began to tire, his opponent mercilessly advanced with fast, heavy blows. He raised his fists and guarded as best he could, as a stream of blood trickled down into his mouth from his right nostril. He fought on until his trainer, from outside of the ring called for it to stop.

I admired this young man for his unwavering determination even though he may well have been afraid. He stood up to the punches and (almost) fearlessly came back for more. 

Well, I did say that this spot would feature passages comparable to streams of consciousness, but if I must conclude for those who desire it, my closing thought for the week is this:


Expect the unexpected and when it does hit you, don't cry about it; take it on the chin and swing a mean left hook. 

"Eloquence is a painting of the thoughts".

I succumbed. The lure of the blog was too powerful to desist. Seduced by the modifiable layouts, the ornate typefaces and the guarantee of winning an argument free from the fear of interjection from a quick-witted clever dick with an articulatory agility to match.

I've always thought myself too private to be a good blogger, but I've come to realise that actually, I have an inability to withhold information about myself when questioned. I wish that I could; I often say things that I probably shouldn't, pushing the boundaries of humour and talking myself deeper into honest, awkward ramblings whilst trying to cleverly prise myself out.

So I expect that this blog will comprise of a series of intricate, awkward ramblings akin to a stream of (frequently showbiz related) consciousness.

I am currently musing the words of Blaise Pascal. I could fill this entire blog with Pascal quotes for certainty of inspiring anyone who comes to read them. And so I have christened this blog "A painting of thoughts" in my wanting for eloquence. It  seems right that he features in my first entry and because this journey will have no end of challenges, the following quote seemed like a fitting way to start. As much as we aspire to be great, we too often disregard our intrinsic, human nature and artists are prime targets for critique. Granted, we must be open to it, but we would also benefit from occasionally sparing ourselves this type of thought:

"What amazes me most is to see that everyone is not amazed at his own weakness. We behave seriously, and everyone follows his calling, not because it is really a good thing to do so, in accordance with fashion, but as if everyone knew for certain where reason and justice lie. We are constantly disappointed and an absurd humility makes us blame ourselves and not the skill we always boast of having. But it is a good thing for the reputation of scepticism that there are so many people about who are not sceptics, to show that man is quite capable of believing that he is not naturally and inevitably weak, but is on the contrary, naturally wise".

Ok. I am not infallible. Check. And so this journey begins...