PASSION
In college, I took a class called “Acting for Directors and Writers,” because at the time I was convinced I was going to write short films or sitcom pilots and it would be beneficial to understand this mysterious creature: the actor. It was a fun class - we did short form improv exercises (where I somehow usually played an old woman) and performed scenes and monologues.
To get us into the mode of performing monologues, we had to do a “passion speech.” We each had to stand in front of the class, as ourselves, and speak truthfully about something we were passionate about. I had no idea. What was I passionate about? Passion is such a strong word in my mind. I like and think I am good at doing a lot of things, but PASSIONATE about them? I’m not ready to make that kind of commitment - my current relationship status with passion is “open.”
So…I talked about David Bowie for 3-5 minutes and how I admired him as an artist, how bold he was and how generally I was more interested in “classical* rock” than modern stuff.
*I could have died. I said ”classical” instead of “classic.” I could feel all the pretentious music lovers’ eyes boring into my soul.
This exercise was to make us comfortable performing a monologue and the pieces our teachers chose for us were directly based on these passion speeches. Long story short, I ended up performing a touching piece about a girl who was obsessed with Madonna and followed her to London in hopes of meeting her.
But what am I getting at here? I feel like I’ve been coasting through life on an apathetic hover board (I’m not athletic enough to handle a skateboard). I feel like things might start happening if I can commit to something in my mind and be like, “this is what I care about. I am going to work hard because I care about this most.”
Passion, come at me, bro’!
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