I heard somewhere that to become a master at something, anything, you have to spend 10,000 hours doing it. After 10,000 hours of practice practice practice, it finally clicks for your mind or your body and you are able to do whatever it is, proficiently. That is 1.14 years straight of doing something, no sleeping no eating, no resting, just doing. That is 4.8 years of working at something for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 52 weeks a year. If only I had that kind of free time and dedication.
Have I ever spent that much time doing anything? No. Unless you count sleeping. By my brief calculations I've spent close to 60,000 hours sleeping. I'm definitely a master at sleeping. But I'm not a master at anything else. I've put thousands of hours into reading, writing, video games, school, sports and all of the other things that I fill my life with, but I've spread them out so much that I'm not a master at any one thing. It's almost disappointing to think that if I would have figured this out when I was much younger, I could be a professional...something already. Musician. Artist. Sports player. Writer. Skateboarder. Comedian. Unfortunately, I'm not.
I can become good at anything that I put my mind to. I know it sounds cliche, but it's true. I've done it before. Unfortunately, there literally isn't enough time in my life to become a master at all of the things I want to master. I have a long list. Maybe I'll knock a few of them out before I grow old and wither away.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Acting
I've taken quite a few acting classes, 4 to be exact. I've learned a lot in regards to theater and how to behave on stage: the way to stand, the way to think, the way to prepare--things people who hadn't acted would never have thought of. It's quite complicated.
Stage acting isn't easy. It's draining. It's tiring. It's a lot of work. It's stressful. But it's exhilarating. I'm not sure why. It's a rush to be up there in front of everyone, doing private things in public places. That's what actors do; we put things that people wouldn't witness in real life out in the open for everyone to see. Maybe that's why some people go to the theater; not simply for a laugh, but for a free glimpse into the lives of other people. A longing to see if they aren't alone. And while the characters on the stage may be imaginary with fake problems, the audience is still seeing a glimpse of the play write's mind nonetheless.
It's kind of funny, my process the day of a show. I'm not nervous at all when I wake up. I get up and get ready to go to rehearsals. I'm more worried about forgetting props than anything. Rehearsals start for the day. A long day of rehearsals. Whatever. No difficulty keeping down a meal before the show. T-10 minutes, no problem. My colleagues are pacing and reciting their lines; I'm sitting bored. One minute to go, heart rate still steady. Ten seconds, A yawn perhaps. But the first step on the stage, the first thing that always goes through my mind "Matt, what the hell are you doing?" That's the exact same sentence that went through my mind the exact moment I pushed my weight forward and free-fell out of a plane. I can't believe I do this for fun.
If only you could see inside my mind as I act. There is almost nothing going on. It's kind of an animalistic instinctive feeling--like something is taking over my body. Occasionally I'll get a thought that is my own, but they are few and far between and very brief. Usually the thought is, "Oh crap, I have no idea what my next line is..." and somehow, whether by muscle memory or my brain just dredging it up at the very last nano-second, it just comes rushing out. My mouth says it and I breath a sigh of relief that I didn't ruin the show.
On the stage you can't see anything. The crowd is just a mass of shapes hidden by a blinding light. It's like being in a tinted glass cage where everyone can see in but you can't see out. It's almost easy to forget they are there. Almost. In fact, they aren't supposed to be there. Sure, there are some sketches where the actors interact with the audience or give them soliloquies, but aside from the rare exception, the audience are viewers not participants. They are supposed to watch as you make yourself vulnerable. You aren't acting for them, you are acting for your partner. Actually, you aren't acting at all; you are living in someone else's body in their life for those brief moments, seeing the choices they make and helping them make those choices.
These characters that I take on are people too. It's hard to explain. They are imaginary and short-lived, but they have feelings, a past, hopes, dreams, depression, and crap that they have to deal with, just like me. They get bored, frustrated, nervous, curious, confused and angry, fall in love and want revenge--just like me. Sometimes you wonder why these people are doing what they are doing; why they aren't doing what you want--you can't control them though because they make the choices for themselves, even if you don't think they are the best choices. Sometimes you want to scream at them "What were you thinking! I don't understand you and I want to!" but it's useless because they just don't get it and they don't care what you think. It sucks to invest so much time and energy into someone who doesn't get it, doesn't care, and for all practical purposes won't exist in a little while. At the same time, I can be any of them and not worry about what someone thinks about what they say or do because it's not ME saying it--it's them. It's difficult to surrogate for them, but a privilege.
Looking back, I'm still not sure why I act. I'm not doing it for fame, and I don't get paid.
Perhaps even through all the difficulties, it's just easier to be someone else with all their crap than to be myself.
Or maybe it's easier to walk in someone else's shoes than my own. I don't think anyone could play me.
Stage acting isn't easy. It's draining. It's tiring. It's a lot of work. It's stressful. But it's exhilarating. I'm not sure why. It's a rush to be up there in front of everyone, doing private things in public places. That's what actors do; we put things that people wouldn't witness in real life out in the open for everyone to see. Maybe that's why some people go to the theater; not simply for a laugh, but for a free glimpse into the lives of other people. A longing to see if they aren't alone. And while the characters on the stage may be imaginary with fake problems, the audience is still seeing a glimpse of the play write's mind nonetheless.
It's kind of funny, my process the day of a show. I'm not nervous at all when I wake up. I get up and get ready to go to rehearsals. I'm more worried about forgetting props than anything. Rehearsals start for the day. A long day of rehearsals. Whatever. No difficulty keeping down a meal before the show. T-10 minutes, no problem. My colleagues are pacing and reciting their lines; I'm sitting bored. One minute to go, heart rate still steady. Ten seconds, A yawn perhaps. But the first step on the stage, the first thing that always goes through my mind "Matt, what the hell are you doing?" That's the exact same sentence that went through my mind the exact moment I pushed my weight forward and free-fell out of a plane. I can't believe I do this for fun.
If only you could see inside my mind as I act. There is almost nothing going on. It's kind of an animalistic instinctive feeling--like something is taking over my body. Occasionally I'll get a thought that is my own, but they are few and far between and very brief. Usually the thought is, "Oh crap, I have no idea what my next line is..." and somehow, whether by muscle memory or my brain just dredging it up at the very last nano-second, it just comes rushing out. My mouth says it and I breath a sigh of relief that I didn't ruin the show.
On the stage you can't see anything. The crowd is just a mass of shapes hidden by a blinding light. It's like being in a tinted glass cage where everyone can see in but you can't see out. It's almost easy to forget they are there. Almost. In fact, they aren't supposed to be there. Sure, there are some sketches where the actors interact with the audience or give them soliloquies, but aside from the rare exception, the audience are viewers not participants. They are supposed to watch as you make yourself vulnerable. You aren't acting for them, you are acting for your partner. Actually, you aren't acting at all; you are living in someone else's body in their life for those brief moments, seeing the choices they make and helping them make those choices.
These characters that I take on are people too. It's hard to explain. They are imaginary and short-lived, but they have feelings, a past, hopes, dreams, depression, and crap that they have to deal with, just like me. They get bored, frustrated, nervous, curious, confused and angry, fall in love and want revenge--just like me. Sometimes you wonder why these people are doing what they are doing; why they aren't doing what you want--you can't control them though because they make the choices for themselves, even if you don't think they are the best choices. Sometimes you want to scream at them "What were you thinking! I don't understand you and I want to!" but it's useless because they just don't get it and they don't care what you think. It sucks to invest so much time and energy into someone who doesn't get it, doesn't care, and for all practical purposes won't exist in a little while. At the same time, I can be any of them and not worry about what someone thinks about what they say or do because it's not ME saying it--it's them. It's difficult to surrogate for them, but a privilege.
Looking back, I'm still not sure why I act. I'm not doing it for fame, and I don't get paid.
Perhaps even through all the difficulties, it's just easier to be someone else with all their crap than to be myself.
Or maybe it's easier to walk in someone else's shoes than my own. I don't think anyone could play me.
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