|That's me. Directing a scene in my short|
film. "Dancing Cardassian Neck Monster."
(Photos by Ricky Brigante of
Inside the Magic.)
I'll tell you.
We spend most of our lives struggling with identity. But occasionally, we get an idea of who we are. An inkling. We try to tell people, "This is who I am!" They go, "Riiiiight. Whatever you say. *whispered* Get the straight jacket!"
For me, it's been everything you've read about here over the last few months. I'm a writer/director/performer type. But when you run around telling people, "I'm a writer/director/performer type," what do you expect people to do with that?
You might as well be telling them, "Hi! I'm an invisible-dancing-squid-monster!"
Uh huh. Sure you are. Where's the proof?
Except, I guess even if you really WERE said monster, nobody could see you. Because you'd be invisible. So maybe, an iridescent-dancing-squid-monster. Yes. Much Better.
(I wish I were an artist, because I have said monster in my brain. He's adorable.)
I currently have a handful of irons in the fire. I'm finishing up a short film I directed. I'm continuing work on a live show I started writing a while back, working on a comic book. Just a handful of stuff that makes me sound delusional. I even landed a regular, small (But huge to me!) performance gig in Orlando. (By the way, I wrote my own monologue for the audition. That felt pretty good.)
My squid monster is backstage stretching and doing warm-ups. Soon, people will start to see his tentacles and maybe they'll catch a glimpse of his cane or his top hat or something and they'll be like, "OH! There really is an iridescent-dancing-squid-monster! I thought that chick was just lying like Chunk from The Goonies!"
The fact that I have chosen to represent my hopes and dreams incarnate as a male squid monster is a discussion we're going to have to save for another day.