Changing My Ways

In high school, this guy gave me this compliment:

"Alice, you are a bag of talent."

One of the best, least-attractive, weird compliments ever, right? And he went on to explain he meant he just didn't get how I could be so diverse in my characters (from crippled sad sack to glamourous movie star--Glass Menagerie to Singin' in the Rain). And I went on to explain to him, "They're all me." There's only been one time where I honestly felt very different from the character I was playing. And that's when I was Mama in Chicago. When I was 15. And had braces.

Other than that one train wreck, I have felt close to the rest of my imagined gang. The fizzle of Lina, the sincerity of Laura, the dependency of Rosemary, the awkwardness of Ruth. But, here's the prob, Bob: I really do become them subconsciously. And, I know this is very bad for a person. Stanislavsky may disagree, but Chekhov would tsk tsk.

Lina made me cliquey.
Laura depressed me.
Rosemary made me hate men.
Ruth made me ugly.

It CAN work to a person's advantage. Being Dorothy in The Wiz filled me with wonder day in and out! But, such an effect is rare.

Marcy is making me incredibly bratty. ESPECIALLY during rehearsals. I have never been so annoyed getting notes as I am mid-Marcy. Dear LORD. I feel my eyes rolling and think, "STOP THAT." But, it's too late. The obnoxious middle-schooler in me is already out.

This is a habit I am trying to change thanks to the Chekhov seminar I am auditing. I will let you know how it goes. Because I am just waiting for the day I get cast as a serial killer, and suddenly, all of my friends with dogs are in for a horrifying surprise.