The one and only time I need to draw off of the energy of an anxiety attack, I can't do it. Fantastic.

I am not an actress, and I know that. I know that the people in my acting class are much better than me because they have theater experience. This makes me very self conscience, and in a sick way, more eager to prove myself. Turns out, halfway through the semester, I still suck. I can give a speech by god, but I fail at acting.

We had to dance for our last class period, some big name dance instructor was in town, and she was putting on a thing for the dance classes. For some reason the acting class had to join, and I regretted not skipping like I had intended. To make this less bitchy, I do understand that actors need to be conscience of their body, but that had NOTHING to do with what we did. I'm awkward and when it comes to dance, I am inept. It was with scarves, and the acting students were with dancing students; people who did not want us there, and we did not want to be there.

I had an anxiety attack, for the first time in about a year during that class, I was that self conscience. I was so awkward in my own body that I ended up locking myself in a bathroom stall until I managed to get myself together enough to walk to my car. At 21 years old, I reverted back to that of a child, throwing a tantrum because things did not go as I had wanted. I was nothing more then an awkward middle schooler at her first dance. For the next hour, I felt like the immature twat that I was, and wanted to never go back to my acting class.

But, there was some good news in this. My anxiety attacks characterize the lady in my monologue perfectly. It was genius! I could draw off of this negative energy to portray the woman in my monologue, a monologue that has to be much better then my dismal first one.

And now I cannot do it. I tried, and tried, and tried again, but I cannot draw that energy. I got frustrated, and than immediately went into my monologue, but that just caused me to say it fast, and be sloppy. I know I cannot act, and I know I'm kinda a joke in that class; I'm the token "god bless her, she's trying" kid. I just cannot make that leap into character.

At least I can write. I've gotten nothing but praise from my beginning fiction class.

But why the fuck am I telling all you this? Honestly, why should you care? I'm done, thanks for listening.


Quote of the day
"Are you crazy, I can't have an escaped lunatic in my bedroom!"