Personal Inventory

My thoughts have been unusually introspective recently, so I thought I’d jot down some of the things I’ve been pondering. Discovery is a large part of the creative process, and I find it helpful to reflect on things that I notice about myself. Self-awareness allows for improvement and evaluation, both of which are necessary for progress. So for what it’s worth, here are some of my observations:

I am most definitely a kinesthetic learner. I understand something best when I can do it myself and flesh it out in my body. I do not easily retain information that I only hear. It takes much more concentration. Just ask my boyfriend.

I need a creative outlet. You might think this whole summer would be one big creative outlet, but believe it or not, I need a splash of variety once in a while. A creative change opens up doors that I wouldn’t otherwise recognize.

I need hydration and rest to function well. Period.

I hate feeling rushed.

I hate waking up. I always have, I probably always will.

I don’t work well without pressure.

I tend to snowball my worries, which apparently profits nothing.

I can be funny, and am (slowly) learning the art of comic timing.

I am often “typed” (otherwise known as type-casted) as the Best Friend, Quirky Kid, and Teacher/Mom. Seems to be a strange combination, but I’m still looking for a thread.

I need alone time.

I am learning how to prioritize. (Though I don’t think I’ll ever master this one.)

I still care far too much about what people think about me.

But probably the most important lesson I’m learning this summer is to LET GO. Anyone who really knows me knows that I am a bit of a control freak. I like to know exactly what’s expected of me, accomplish it well, and check it off my list. It’s incredibly difficult for me not to worry or get stressed out about little things. Part of the problem is that I am a very logical person (when I’m not hormonal), and desperately need structure in order to function. Without parameters or expectations, I flounder. I was the kid who colored in the lines, and wanted all my crayon strokes aligned in neat little rows. I make my bed every morning, and have all my pillows arranged the same way every night before I go to sleep. Can we say Perfectionist?

But don’t ask me to organize my closet. I get overwhelmed at the thought of creating order within chaos. For someone who craves structure so severely, I have a very hard time creating it for myself. Maybe that’s why I cling to it so much. It’s something I lack, but desperately need to survive.

At least I think I need it. All the physical training I’ve been doing this summer has helped move me from being in my “head” so much to being more in my body. In my movement and voice classes at Regent, I started becoming aware of how much our bodies are connected with emotion. I didn’t really believe it until my professor had us get up and start skipping around the room. Almost immediately we all started laughing and acting silly. When he had us stop, he asked us to describe what we experienced on an emotional level. We all expressed some kind of positive, happy state. We did the same thing with punching our fist on the table, and a very opposite emotional reaction occurred. It was very clear that for every physical action, there is a very real emotional response. Suzuki Training comes out of a similar idea, rigorously training our bodies in a very structured way so that an emotional life naturally follows. If you don’t believe me, try stomping for 3 minutes without stopping and see what happens.

I like this “outside-in” approach to acting because far too often I get stuck in my head, thinking about or analyzing my emotional state instead of just feeling. Feeling. You know, that ambiguous, sorta kinda, something-like-that sensation in your gut? The “warm fuzzies” don’t always agree with my Type-A personality. I like things that I can define and rationalize in my mind, but I’m learning that sometimes I can understand something better through my body. Like when a baby cries because she’s hungry. She doesn’t think to herself, “Huh. My stomach needs food right now.” She simply feels a pang of hunger, and her body automatically responds with a wail. I’m not suggesting a need to revert back to childlike behavior, but I do think there is something to be said for the “pang.”

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my training this summer has centered around physiological freedom. It’s exactly what I’ve needed in my acting process, but also in my personal life. It’s been good for me to get out of my comfort zone and have to relinquish some control. I think God’s trying to teach me a little more than just how to cry on cue. The perfectionist side of me would like to tell you that by the time I leave here I will have “arrived” at some greater level of achievement and understanding. And while I have definitely learned a great deal, the greatest lesson so far is that I am at the same time always and never where I need to be… and that is OK.