Category: acting

acting · authenticity · letting go · life · receiving · safety

I Came In Here For An Argument

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

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I’ve been recalling the above-referenced Monty Python
sketch. In the first moments, a customer walks into a room and the man behind
the desk there begins to berate him. The customer stops him, and exclaims, I came
in here for an argument! – At which point, the man behind the desk apologizes
and says, Oh, this is Abuse. Argument is down the hall. (It’s a very funny
sketch, and I do it no justice here – please make liberal use of Youtube.)
I’ve been thinking about what kind of lesson I think I’ve
been signed up for. What ideas I have about what I’m supposed to be learning in
this life, at this time, in this moment. And how maybe the room I’ve thought
I’ve walked into isn’t that room at all. That although I have some ideas and
hopes/generalities about the parts of myself I’m supposed to be working on
right now – the fact is, that I’m not actually the one choosing my courses.
I’ve had enough experience to learn that I have to let go of
what I think this lifetime’s lessons are for other people (that they should learn self-esteem,
compassion, ease, or forgiveness), and I’ve had mild success at that –
understanding that what I would have this person learn this time around may not
be what the Fates or Universe or Gods would have them learn. That although I
very much and fully think that this person ought to learn how to be softer or
to be more resolved, they’re apparently not here on my course schedule, and so
I have to let go, or else be in the pain of trying to manipulate my will into theirs.
However, it hasn’t yet ever occurred to me that I need to
let go of what my ideas are for my
lifetime. But it is now.
Because some of these lessons I’m learning aren’t ones I
would’ve consciously signed up for.
Last night, at my callback for this play, I was asked to
read a scene as the mother to a teenage girl who stood on stage with me. We
read the scene, and the director said it was good, but to slow it down, and
really find the emotional connection in it. We ran it again, and I was pretty sure
I didn’t do that.
I see this morning that I didn’t really trust that I could
convey that kind of emotion, and so I barreled through it again. I didn’t trust
that I could be good enough, or believable enough, or hold the emotion of love,
care, and concern enough to portray it.
So the lesson becomes “trust,” instead of “follow my dreams.” Trusting that if I
slow down, I’ll be okay. That if I allow myself to be seen (a lesson that’s
been on my syllabus for a while), I’ll be okay. Trusting oneself is not an easy
lesson to learn. Trusting in the safety of being oneself is not an easy lesson
to learn.
There’s a phrase I’ve been mulling on this morning: There
comes a point in your recovery when you stop backing away from alcohol, and you
turn around and start walking toward G-d.
Whatever your thoughts are about “god,” the idea, to me, is
that eventually, we move beyond being motivated by fear, and must begin to be
motivated by love.
The idea that I know what room I walked into, what lesson
I’m supposed to learn, is a manipulation based on the fear that I can’t be
myself, that I’m not okay with whatever “is.” To accept the fact that I don’t have the syllabus for my life and that
the Fates will steer me toward whatever lesson they deem necessary for the goodness of all, means I have
to be willing to let go of my expectations for my life and myself. For all my
aspirations and intentions, in many ways.
To let go, doesn’t mean to abandon. It means to release
control, or perceived control. To let go doesn’t mean to not audition, pursue,
or practice what is in front of me. It doesn’t mean to reject or eject
anything, in fact.
For me, this morning, “to let go” means “to allow what is.”
To allow what is in me, in you, in the cards, in our hearts to BE.
I’ve never had the greatest relationship with the phrase,
“Let go.” It feels like falling. But “To allow what is” feels like releasing
and accepting in a warm way.
So, I will walk today into the classroom of life, and I will
allow what is here to mold and shape me, and I will allow that I am cared for
and need not brace for it, and I will allow that I am safe in the care of these
lessons, and I will allow myself to shed one millimeter of armor between us.
I will allow the idea, just the idea!, that I am actually
totally and completely held, and therefore be able to turn my attention from
clenching and bracing to opening, giving, and receiving. 
Bonus quote: “G-d steers the boat; all you have to do is row.”

acting · adulthood · calm · connection · excitement · health · performance · theater

Wow. Wowie Wow Wow

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

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(Christopher Walken on SNL; check it out if you don’t
know; too funny)

You know when they (I) say “Both/And”? That life is both
this, and that. It is inimitable and gripping, and sallow and challenging? That
life is “everything all at once”?
That you are both excited for your new callback and getting
dressed to get a possible melanoma removed?
Yeah. Both/And.
So, that’s happening right now. In a little while.
I went to the dermatologist about a month ago to get a
strange new mole checked out on my back. She told me that that one was nothing
to worry about; that, in fact, it’s the kind of mole you only see on fully adult
homosapiens. So, I asked, then basically, this new mole is a Rite of Passage
Mole? That I’m officially an adult human, now? Wow. Weird to have your skin
tell you it!
You, Molly Louise, you are now officially an
adult. Instead of a parade, statue, medal, or email from the Universe, you get
this nifty little mole on your back. Holler!!! Luckily, I think it’s kind of
awesome and funny, and I’m really not concerned about the aesthetics of it –
it’s not gross or repulsive or anything. It doesn’t have a satellite moon
orbiting it or have a hair growing from it. – although the Derm said that a
hair is usually a good sign that a mole is not malignant.
(It’s this an awesome
blog topic!)
“BUT,” she said. …
“This other one…” and took out the little 6-inch ruler she
kept in her white lab coat. “Well, this other one, …”
Yeah, that one’s kind of new too, in the last year for sure,
I told her.
So, today I have it taken out. Which means, they have to dig
all the way through ALL of the layers of skin into the fatty flesh below, and
take out, like a dowel in the earth, a cylinder of my skin. Yum.
It’s a small thing, it’ll only leave a centimeter of a scar,
but for a few days, until the stitched, sewn-together skin around it heals and
seals together (our bodies are amazing), no heavy lifting or working out the same way.
Meh. C’est la vie. Small price to pay for solace of mind.
Although, when I told someone when I found this out
those few weeks ago, that it was a possible skin cancer thing, they said, oh,
no big deal, that’s simple, they gauge it out. Done. … Well, I felt like that was a tad insensitive. I mean, this was coming from another young
cancer survivor!
I’m not “worrying twice,” and it is something you just take
out (I think – I don’t know – I’m not Googling anything until the doc indicates
I ought to). But, it’s still a (what’s “less than worrying”) – Ah, concerning, it’s still a concerning thing. So, I’m concerned.
So I get it checked out.
I think my Rite-of-Passage Mole might be on to something.
And, further in the Wow category, this acting
thing. Wowie wow wow, man.
It’s so fun. Sure, I talk about the isolation it offers when
you’re practicing lines alone, auditioning alone, but, the camaraderie that it
leads to, is the point. The opportunity to turn the light on in an audience, to
share something with someone else, is the point. And this is the path to that.
I’m stoked.
I have no clue if this is beginner’s luck, if anything more
will happen, if I’ll circle around the drain of “aspiring actor” for years.
But, SO WHAT.
When I think back to what it felt like on Saturday to join into the
lobby of a group of folks, stand around awkwardly in a room with
other aspirers, to have my name called, and to walk down the dark aisle of the
near-empty theater. To stand on a real stage under real lights, state my name and my piece, and
perform it. To have the director say, “Very nice. Thank you.” To then walk back
up that aisle less than two minutes later, and gather my purse and walk back
out into the amazing Berkeley Spring day?
Well, I’ll tell you:
Wow. 

acting · adulthood · change · community

Oh Envy, Have a cuppa tea & be off with yourself.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

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A coworker asked me what my plans were this weekend, and
along with my regular commitments, I am also going to my friend’s poetry reading, the
first meeting of a new writing group, and a shamanic journey group I
attend monthly.
She said, Wow, I wish my plans included things like writing
groups and journey groups.
I asked what her weekend plans were, and she said, they were
having some friends over for dinner. That’s about it.
I said, Wow, I wish my plans included things like having
friends over for dinner.
I live in the strange time/place between apartment- and
house-dweller; between the young able-bodied, go-into-the-city-at-10:30pm-er (as I was invited to last night) and the slightly more cautious, actually-10:30-is-my-bedtimer. I live between the single person world, and the time of
coupledom.
And in this place, though there is a ton to “do,” I feel a
little lonely. Not for the partner, per se, but for the friendships that begin
to fall away as a single person in a paired up world. Nostalgic for the times when
a gathered group of women would carve pumpkins together on a Thursday night,
for the time when there was occasion to take photos of a gaggle of folks, and a
little longing for the camaraderie, simplicity, and elegance that “having some
friends over for dinner” could offer.
I know life has different phases, and the majority of
the things I’m doing right now (though they are communal, simply aren’t
friend-inclusive) are in support of a grander plan and dream: acting classes,
auditioning, rehearsals, practicing my lines and reading scripts. I know that
this is an exciting part of my path, and, believe me, I am *stoked* to get to
do these things, but I also recognize that a shift is occurring. I am on the
blank page after one chapter has ended, and before the other has begun.
My friends will be at the writing group, the poetry reading,
and the shamanic journey group. These are people who I can have hours’ long
conversations with, and last week, did have coffee with one of them, but, I
don’t know – there’s a zest of communal living that I haven’t replaced from the
days of late-night group dancing and diner-ing.
Perhaps all things in order and in time, but I’m just
noticing. I notice that I’d like to be someone who goes to dinner at friends’
houses. Maybe I just want to be able to invite people over to dinner, like I had been able to in my 1-bedroom in the city, but not in my studio in Oakland. I know that’s a part of it too. 
It’s interesting, isn’t it, that the grass is always
greener?
I have plenty of people I consider friends—I’d just
like to see them more often. And apparently, in groups. (I also recognize that I
don’t want to be your token single friend in that group to whom you say things like, “Have you tried internet dating?” For more on this, see this article my
friend sent me!)
That said, there’s a viewing party for ONCE upon a time I’m
attending in a few Sundays at a friend’s; there’s a birthday party at my
friend’s house in Discovery Bay next month that will bring out some of my most
cherished friends and their families;
and, anyway, this navel-gazing blog is boring me. 😉
I have some people to go see, followed by shopping for a
jewel-toned top for Monday’s new headshots, and a facial to help those
photos come out awesome. Then line-learning, vegetable roasting, and poetry
attending. My life is certainly full—now if it could also be a little more
stocked with you.

acting · clarity · commitment · consistency · dreams · growth · perseverance

Get Real.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Blogger lets you see what posts are being read, how many
times, and where in the world the reader is (HELLO! Those of you in Poland, Germany & Israel…whoever you are!). This morning, I saw that someone had read
“Pulling a Carmen,” my first blog-a-day in November of 2011. I haven’t stuck
with it daily, but fairly enough.

Amazingly, a) it’s the same things I talk about now (wanting
to act and perform; letting myself be in a relationship; owning my dreams), but
b) it also shows me where things have
changed: I have been a bass player in a
band – I certainly wasn’t in Winter of 2011 when I wrote that; I wasn’t until Spring of 2013.
In that blog, I write that my
relationship with others is reflected in my relationship with myself: how am I not committed to myself and my goals? And here I am present-day, whittling down my goals to only theater, finally. 
This week, I
wrote the lead singer in the band I play bass in that I can’t be in the band
anymore. It’s sad, but I know it’s ultimately for the best. It’s a pruning
game—like a bonsai. Or fichus. (cuz who doesn’t love the word fichus). And I
think it will ultimately help me in my attempts to focus on and even achieve
anything at theater.
I write about all the same things that I write about now,
but I do think I’m at a different place with them. I mean, I guess I write
about the same things all the time: relationships, healing, self-care,
self-derision, past experience, authenticity, perseverance.
Perseverance. I’ve written a bunch about that before, but
without one goal to head toward, the whole thing becomes dispersed, scattered,
and ineffectual.
Yesterday, I put down a deposit for real headshots.
The friends I’ve had who’ve helped me out over the years
produced incredible photos, artistic, fun, and fun to shoot—but they’re not
“acting headshots.” And there just is an industry standard. I’ve been trying to get the name of someone from an actor
friend of mine, but her voicemails are all garbled, and somehow it hasn’t been
working.
Enter Yelp. Yesterday after some searching and
clicking and emailing, I sent half of the $350 fee to this woman in Berkeley.
Later that day, I got emails back from my other inquiries,
friends, who would be willing to do a much reduced rate, or photos in exchange for
babysitting.
I cursed myself (mildly) for being so impetuous and
imprudent, for not being patient and thereby “wasting” money.
And then, I looked at these friends’ websites, and I said,
ya know, it’s worth it.
As Maybelline says, I’m worth it. (or is it clarol?)
Because, after hm, 3 years of headshots that I felt either
okay, or less than okay about (fine photos though they were), I’ve been being prudent and cutting corners and trying alternatives–It’s time to put
my money where my mouth is. And I mouth about being an actress.
Does this mean I’m suddenly an actress? No. Does it mean
that I’m taking myself seriously enough to invest in myself? Yes. Does it mean
that I can focus more on what I’m showing the auditors rather than what I’ve
handed them, or emailed them? YES.
Because it IS my calling card, my first impression. And if I
want to be a professional, I get professional help. If I want this to be real, then I get real.
I could look at that first blog and laugh/lament that I’m
talking and writing and working on the same damned things 3 years later. And a
little bit, I do. But I also recognize that big things have shifted since then,
too. I’m glad to have this kind of record to mark my progress. Even when
progress looks circuitous and labyrinthine.
The last line in that first blog is that maybe there’s a
tall attractive employed funny Jewboy who is looking for a
“writer/singer/actress…bass player.” At the time I wrote that, “bass player” was only a
vague hope and notion, a funny, last second, “doorknob comment” throw-away, because you shouldn’t really know that it’s important to me. Today, I get to own that mantle. I am a bass player. I
play bass, I’ve been in a band. And I am now hoping to own the mantle of
actress.
If you glue it, they will come. 

acting · dating · honesty · relationships · self-care

State of the Union

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Yesterday, I sat with a group of folks, and admitted that
continuing to participate in activities that I’m not 100% invested in (or even
85%) is dishonest. That I was not being honest with my intentions or
priorities—and was thereby wasting time. (You finite commodity, you.)
There was a meditation/writing portion of this meeting, and
so I wrote a series of questions for myself:
  • How is being dishonest with others serving me?
  • How is prioritizing others’ needs serving me?
  • How is NOT prioritizing my own needs serving me?
  • What need am I
    fulfilling by not prioritizing and     owning my needs?
  • How is dismissing my desires serving me?
  • How is devaluing myself serving me?

 Heavy, huh?
But, for me, that’s what pushing important things off to
“tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” is. It’s devaluing myself, what I have
deemed important to myself.
Because I’ve been hemming and hawing a little on letting
those folks know that I can’t come out and play anymore. Even though I am clear
that my priorities and intentions have shifted.
So… Yesterday, I committed to those folks that I would make
two phone calls. One was to the 25 y.o.
He asked, adorably, if he were in trouble, when I said I
wanted to chat when he wasn’t in a café. I said no, but that it was sort of a
“State of the Union” conversation, so to give me a call back.
He did. And we did.
I’d been feeling throughout this week that this couple-dom
wasn’t on course for relationship-land. It’s a pretty appropriate assessment
after a half-dozen dates. We’ve kept it PG-13, so there isn’t any animal-brain
“must keep orgasm giver” going on.
But, I have simply felt like I’ve crystallized that I don’t
want to date this person long-term. It’s just a feeling, not a fear, not a
defense mechanism. Just a fact.
The big however is, I
don’t want to stop seeing him. And thus, my hesitation.
I really enjoy spending time with this person, getting to
know him, getting to know myself in relation to him. And I thoroughly enjoy our
frisky make-out sessions.
So, that’s what I told him. Pretty much all of the above. I
don’t see this heading toward relationship track, but I enjoy spending time
with him, and I enjoy making out with him.
That the outcomes I saw were we transition to
friends, or do that and try to keep with the sexy-time, or do neither. So, he
asked me, then, what I wanted? If I knew what I wanted? And I said, no. I
didn’t know, but perhaps in talking it out, and hearing his thoughts, we might find
some solution.
He admitted and agreed that he was “along for the ride,” but
not in a place to invest in a relationship. So that pretty much leaves us two
options: continue seeing one another with the frequency we have been, or stop
seeing one another.
I replied, honestly, that the idea of seeing him less was
unappealing to me.
(And I have to admit here, that part of my hesitation in
letting go of this couple-dom is that this person is the first I’ve met who is
really in the theater world, has insights, and knowledge, and can point me
toward plays and monologues and acting worksheets and websites—which he has—and if
I let this go, I won’t have that access anymore.
And that, my dear friends, is scarcity mind. That this is
the first person with those bodies of
knowledge does not mean that he’s
the last person, and to continue a relationship based on a selfish need and
fear of loss is the definition of crappy. Doomed. Dishonest.)
So, at the end of this conversation, we agreed to continue
to see one another on the semi-regular, as we have been, and that if the
ambiguity “gets to” either of us, we can talk about that then.
I did say that I am a person who is wanting a relationship,
and that he deserves someone who thinks he’s the sunandmoonandstars, but, for
right now, no one is blowing down our doors, so… here we are.
I don’t think it’s “settling for less.” I think it’s being
perfectly honest with my desires, honest with my intentions, and my continued
task is to show up in the single world and be available.
That might mean a week more of the hot make-out sessions, it
might mean a month. I don’t know. It is
ambiguous. And we know how I LOVE that. But, I am not willing to let go of this
connection yet, because of what it does for me on multiple levels, nor am I willing
to let go of my intention to have a true partnership with another human being.
In the meantime, I have that list of questions to answer for
and about myself, and some theater websites to explore.

abundance · acting · self-esteem · self-love · self-support · vision

…And all the men and women merely players

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Audition Over. I feel exhausted. I am hoping that some day
soon, I can stop reporting my exhaustion to you, because I won’t be.
However, if I get into this play, which I realize is an SF
State Production, I think, then there are rehearsals there every evening and weekend
for 4 weeks. But, cart, horse, one bite at a time. (And, although that sounds
exhausting, I know it’s part of “building a resume” and a body of work; so, worth it.) I
won’t talk too much about this play, until I know I’ve gotten into it. To
paraphrase my new go-to book, It’s Just a F***ing Audition. So, now, I go back onto Theater Bay Area website,
follow-up on another message board the 25 y.o. told me about, and get another
audition lined up. And another monologue into my brain.
You know, this memorizing thing is work. It’s amazing to be able to keep so much information
in our heads. I remember words from plays I did years ago, when I click into
that gear.
And that’s the other thing I realized as I walked out of the
audition last night into the Sunset streets: I’ve done this before. I know how to do this, if still gelding-like. But this isn’t as foreign to me as I like to let my brain tell me
it is. I’ve stood in small rooms in front of strangers and performed words to them before. I’ve conversed awkwardly with auditors, having rehearsed so many lines for them, I forget how to just have a normal conversation. I’ve filled out audition sheets, and printed headshots, and doctored a resume. I’ve stood in hallways waiting my turn before. 
I left last night – just as I’d left the CCSF audition last month –
thrilled that I showed up. THAT’S the result that is most important to me. I
was just so glad that I let myself try. And I did “not bad,” in my own
estimation, which is like high, throwing-flowers-at-myself praise in my own
scale. “Not bad.” Ha. In fact, really, I think I did well. They’re students, it
seems, the auditors, and they gave some feedback that skewed positively.
I remember when my friend Melissa came to see me in The Vagina
Monologues at Mills about 2 or 3 years ago,
now. She said afterward, and her sister is a director, so she’s seen her share
of plays and players—she said, I feel like I’ve finally seen you do what you
were born to do.
It was the best compliment I’ve ever received. Because I
knew she wasn’t a bullshitter, and because it resonated with me. And because it made
my insides do a happy dance. Like, SEE, MOLL! We told you you could do this!!
On Tuesday night, the 25 y.o. came over to help me practice
my monologue. He’s a director and an artistic director, so he’s seen his share
of actors. So, very nervously, I did my piece for him. And I begged him
afterward to be honest with me: if I was wasting my time, and someone just
really needed to be honest with me, tell me to move on to something else. I don’t want to be like that person on the American Idol audition tapes who no one ever told was horrible because they didn’t want to hurt their feelings, and so now all of America laughs at their idiocy. 
He told me, no, he wouldn’t say that at all. But, he also
told me that, like the bell-curve, I fall somewhere in the middle of the curve,
“if a little to the right of center,” he said.
I could be crushed by that. I could say, well, forget it, if
I’m not excellent, f*ck it. But, HELLO, even though I’ve done this somewhat,
I’m a TOTAL NEWBIE. And if as an untrained, total newbie, I’m average, then that’s AWESOME!
I mean, come on, man.
My bass teacher said the same thing to me when I was working
with him. That noting my incredible lack of training and beginner status, I was
much farther along than he’d seen.
I’m good at picking
things up. And I haven’t ever put concerted effort behind this acting vision before. So… seems to me…
leads me to believe… it follows that… logic says…
I better keep doing it. Because I’ll only get better.
*INSERT CHEESY THIS-IS-AWESOME GRIN*
P.S. The 25 y.o. also told me there’s plenty of work in this
town for a start-of-career non-equity actor. And I told him, Tell your friends
– I’m happy to be in their crappy plays. 😉

acting · balance · change · grief · priorities

Sword of Awareness.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

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Yesterday morning, I was on the phone with a mentor of mine,
talking about how busy I am, and how bone-weary I am as a result. Sure, busy
with good things. That’s what I tell people at the “How was your weekend?”
congenial Monday-morning chat. “It was busy, but busy with good things.” So that,
of course, makes it okay.
My mentor asked me why I thought I was so busy – and I know, and have known, the answer: TIME.
Damacles’ sword. The tale of the king(?) who had a sword
suspended over his throne, he sat and ruled from under the constant threat of
annihilation, never knowing if it ever would indeed fall.
How do you live from that place? Certainly, we all are
living under that sword. Some of us are more aware of it than others.
Sometimes I hear people talk about things they’ll do when
they’re old, or older. Things like travel, or tell their grandkids, or when
they retire. All of these future plans, all under an assumption of life. All
under a naïve assumption that life will be there when they get there.
Ignorance sure is bliss. Because when I listen to them
say this, my heart steels and in my head I say, “Maybe.” By which I know I mean,
loathe though I am to admit it to you, “Maybe, or you could be dead.”
So, TIME. I am so very busy, because I don’t believe there
is enough time for me to be The Great And Powerful Molly that I want to be.
This wasn’t a cancer-causation. I felt this way long before cancer, that I have
missed the bus on things, or that I just know there are so many things I want
to do, I lament how to do them all – while I’m alive.
Cancer just rubbed rock salt into the wound. Brought my attention to a pin-prick of the value of life. And cancer has made me a little sour on others’ assumptions that it will be there.
Hence, my goal to prioritize. What is important now? What can’t wait? What feeds me the most, brings me
the most joy, is a 5 on a joy-scale of 1 – 5?
That’s what my friends and I spoke about yesterday morning,
after I got off the phone with my mentor. As I’d said, I wanted to get help
with how to prioritize the bevy of interests I have. And, we did. We
talked about a lot. I cried a little. I got to see how fear, rather than joy,
is motivating many of my projects.
And they told me it was okay. I’m allowed to feel frightened and desperate if that’s what I’m feeling. I’m allowed to feel sorrow over the uncertainty of it all. I’m allowed to feel a sour-green envy of those not aware of the sword, and I’m allowed to feel self-righteous over them, too. But, I’m allowed to not feel this way also.
They charged me with the task of focusing on
one interest, if only for one week. We created a “time plan,” sort of like the
kind of money spending plan I have each month. It’s a goal, it’s an allotment
of values. Everything is a choice, even paying rent. If I’m willing to accept
the consequences of not paying rent,
sure I could not pay it. But I’m not!
Performance, acting, right now, came up as a higher priority
than anything I’m currently involved in. Though painting was the only thing
that earned a 5 (though, I imagine, mostly because I’m not engaged in it at all
right now).
This value judgment will have consequences. It means the
reduction and phasing out of other things I’m involved in. AND, it’s only a
guide, this new time plan. That’s the important thing for me to remember. It
can change. And if I have more time for rest and centering, there may be more
ease to do other things.
When we plugged in “Acting Activities” (e.g. researching
roles, practicing monologues, etc.) as the only creative activity this week, I could feel my hackles rise: “But what
about painting??” My two friends encouraged me to just try this, just for one
week, just to see how it feels.
If my goal is to “Focus, Prioritize, and Follow-through,”
this is their suggestion. It’s just a trial. How does it feel to commit to one thing fully — oh my G-D –
COMMIT?????
Oh Lord, grant me strength to focus… to (gulp) commit. (shiver)
Because though the sword be there for all of us, for me, I have learned
that racing to it all is wasting my time. I’m not getting better at any of my interests, because I’m not spending
…committed… time on them.
It is an imperative in my life to use my time efficiently.
And this is an avenue I’ve never tried before. 
Results: TBD. 

acceptance · acting · change · dating · growth · joy · trying

So??

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So, what is happening
with the boy (in real life, not in my brain)?
Well, instead of sending my crazy text on Saturday morning,
I sent instead, “Brunch tomorrow?” Luckily my journal, you, and my friends get
the brunt of the crazy, so by the time I get into interacting with human
beings unaware of my brain functions, they get something resembling “normal.”
So, there was brunch on Sunday. During the course of
conversation, without blasting a fire extinguisher of mania at him, he said of his own accord, “We’re dating; that’s what we’re doing.” Oh, Okay. Good to know.
So, then… Dating. There’s another one planned for this
Saturday evening. And, I am unsure if there will be more, and unsure if I want
there to be, but want there to be this one, at least, so I can figure that out
– that’s the whole point of the dating thing, isn’t it? To spend enough time
with someone to figure out if you want to spend your time exclusively with
them? (Not like all your time, just your romancy time.) I’m honestly not sold,
which is as it should be – we’ve been on three dates. Not enough to know much, except we have relatively good
conversation, I am still a little stiff and breath-holdy around him (though I measurably relaxed once he said, “We’re dating”), and really
enjoy his roaming hands. If there’s more than the roaming hands that I enjoy,
only time can tell.
So, that’s the story. I am honestly still tempted to “put on
my love light” and get back in the ring (to mix metaphors). I don’t know the
strength of this one dating situation, so why preclude myself from others. What
that will mean to “get back out there,” I don’t know at all. Maybe just a frame
of mind. I am still single after all,
and I’m not racing to lock it down with this one dude, cuz I’m not sure yet.
Seems … mature, maybe? Realistic? Appropriate?
In much other news, I have an audition on Monday for a
staged reading. I have a role suggested to me for my monologue by the
25 y.o., but haven’t yet read the play – this all means, … I’m not prepared,
and unlikely to have something memorized by Monday. I need a contemporary 1-2
minute dramatic monologue, and all I have/own in my head is the Shakespeare
piece I did the other weekend. So, … if, lord help me, I need to use notes for
this, then I will. It’s just information, it’s just trying. I know now that I
need to have/own more than one piece if I want to be in this auditioning game,
which may one day, who knows,
how-much-easier-to-let-go-of-the-results-of-this-than-dating, lead to the acting
part – the part I actually want.
It’s interesting to me, getting to compare the way I was
clinging to certainty around dating, and am pretty much just joyful to show up
around acting. I actually did a fist pump when I left my audition the other
week! Not because I thought I did awesome, but because I showed up. THAT’S awesome.
Of course, you know I’m going to say something like, “Now,
if I can just allow the fluidity, joy, presence, confidence and love of self I
hold around auditioning flow into the dating world, I’ll be much happier, and
indeed, much more myself.”
Yes, I would say something like that, wouldn’t I?

acting · change · expansion · meditation · truth

S/he had so much potential.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I want you to imagine yourself doing something you’ve always wanted
to do, but you haven’t.
This could be play Frisbee golf, visit a foreign country,
learn piano, plant a sapling. Anything.
I want you to picture yourself engaged in this activity,
noticing your movements, your self, how you’re feeling, what energy you’re
carrying.
Now, I want you to remove yourself, and in your stead,
imagine your inner most power–the very greatest power you have thumping in your
heart–doing that activity. See if you can sense or see or imagine the unmasked
self, the soul part, your unharmed self engaged in your dream activity. Again, notice their movements, their feelings, what energy they carry.
Is it different?
Is there a difference between how you imagine yourself to
engage in the world, and how, well, the world wants you to engage in it? Are
you freer, larger, glowy? Are you lighter, uninhibited, unafraid?
Maybe, or not. Maybe you won’t do the above. But, this
morning, I did. Just sort of made up the meditation, “thought exercise,” as I sat in my morning meditation, and I
did see myself differently. I was envisioning today’s audition, envisioning
myself onstage in the dress I’ve chosen, giving my monologue. And I felt the
urge to see what would happen if it weren’t me, but the me that lives under all
my cages. I will tell you, it was very different. The second one confident,
unafraid to fill the space, to be big. Not hiding.
I’m going to try to remember that part of me, because it is
always with me, when I go out into the world, and onto the stage today. That
there is only a trap door of fear that prevents me from being her. And what if,
for a few moments, I can pry it open, and let myself be and let you see what I’ve always wanted
you to see: I am more than who I’ve been.
And greater than my obfuscation.

acting · change · confidence · dreams

Hunger Games

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I attended the Theater Bay Area General Auditions on Sunday
as a volunteer, which meant I got to see a lot of headshots, a lot of nervous
milling actors, and some of the auditions.
What I got to observe was that I probably fit somewhere in the
middle of that pack – I’m not worse than the worst person, and certainly not as
good as the best, so that means… I have a shot, right?
The General Auditions bring together all of the casting companies from around the Bay in one
room, like a cattle-call. There are about 5 auditions every 15 minutes, and it
goes on for 3 days. I can only imagine what that must be like for the auditors!
But, you never know – they can’t blink, because they might miss something, and
if you falter, you’ve just faltered in front of everyone you’ll ever audition for.
(all hail hyperbole!)
The other thing I got to see was how hungry all the actors were. It didn’t matter the age, or
experience, there was a rabid manic energy about the whole place. The guy
sitting in the lobby mouthing the words to his monologue, the slight look of
lamb at slaughter of a few, and the general awkwardness of the others standing
around their competition, sizing one another up, if even glancingly.
Because there isn’t enough. That’s the grand and great mantra
of things like this. It reminded me of the day laborers who stand outside of
Home Depot, waiting for someone to pick them. All they want to do is work. That’s
it – just give these people an opportunity to do what they know how to do best.
Just let them work. It’s a very different idea about the hungry artist, to me
at least. The idea that the hunger isn’t necessarily about pride, prestige,
fame, but just about getting the chance to do that which you’ve been trained to
do – Let Me Work. That’s what these
actors are saying, in their fidgeting, their primping, their priming.
And this Saturday, I will do the same. I will say the same
thing: Dear CCSF Director, Please let me work.
It’s a strange interview process; so much more intense than
“regular” office interviews, where it’s a dialogue (hopefully). This is just
you, presenting what you have to offer, sans feedback. There’s no riffing, no
improv, no charming self-depreciation or affable witticism. There’s just what
you can give in 1 minute – what you can bottle and nutshell in one minute of
the macrocosm of who you are and what you can do.
It is a lot of
pressure!
But. I’m up for it. I have to be. I don’t really have the
option to shirk my dreams anymore, or shrink from that which enlivens me. I mean…
I do, but, “all things considered,” I don’t. Life is short, dearies.
I also am getting to observe my lovely monkey mind as it
compared my list of acting credits to those on the resumes I was handing to the
auditors. I don’t have an MFA in Acting.
I don’t have a BA in Theater
Arts. Hell, I don’t even have one legitimate credit at all. And, yet, (I’m
talking to you, monkey mind) So, the, fuck, what. ? So what?!
Do you not make a new recipe because it might fail, and
therefore never eat again? Do you not refuel your gastank because it’s empty
and futile to continue refilling it? Do you stop talking to people you’ve never
met before because your name hasn’t been in lights, on a program, on Buzzfeed?
Well, I hope not.
Essentially, Life would be pretty awful if it meant only
doing the things you knew how to do. Where is the joi de vivre in that?
So, I’ll own the joi. I’ll de vivre. I’ll feed my monkey
mind banana chips and positive affirmations. I’ll practice the shit out of my
monologue, and I’ll mouth words silently, and I’ll appraise my competition, and
I’ll remind myself there is enough and I am worthy, and I’ll believe it and I
won’t believe it, and I’ll try again next time.
Because, I woke up with Lose Yourself in my head this morning — Eminem wants me to work, too.