Do you ever look at
someone else and think, “that’s what I want to be.”?
I do.
Do they just seem so much more intriguing and
interesting than you could ever hope to be?
Yes and double yes.
A few times a year, I’ll
become really taken with someone and literally think – I want to be that. I
want to be them. Man or woman, it really doesn't matter.
I devour on-line
articles. I don’t know how many I
actually read in a year, but it’s a lot. Sometimes I come across articles about
people that make me feel less than, like I've somehow wasted the time I've been
blessed with. James Franco comes to
mind. This guy writes, directs, teaches
classes (apparently on both coasts), is enrolled in about 12 separate grad
schools and still manages to acts in films he didn't write – and oh yes, he’s
an author.
What the fuck? What am I doing with myself??? I don’t give a shit if you don’t like him or
his movies or his books, that’s pretty impressive, right?
For a couple of days
(or maybe more – I’m not at liberty to say), I was mildly depressed. Here I am, trying to bang out one fucking
short. One fucking short – a 25 minute film.
It feels like it’s taking forever. FOREVER. I’m not satisfied with my ending, I don’t
know if it’s conveying my intention properly, I don’t know if I want to subject
other people – actors, viewers, etc. to my emotional drivel.
I’d imagine that if I
was James Franco, I’d have finished it two years ago, shot it, edited and put
it out last summer and would be happily onto the next 7 things. The entire thing feels quite fucked up, I have
to tell you.
I didn't explain it
to my husband in quite this graphic detail.
I just kept telling him that I didn't think I was really smart enough to
be a writer or to make films. That perhaps
I was missing that essential component – whatever that was, ‘cause fuck if I know.
Anyway, as my husband
and my best friend and as the consummate artist, he assured me that I did
indeed have what it takes. He said that my voice, my
expression, is unique and it would be something that people would (and do) respond
to.
God, sometimes that man is my lighthouse
– showing me where the shore is – bringing me home.
I see now that the
whole “James Franco Episode” was simply a cop out. As exhilarating as writing is for me, it’s
still scary as shit. At times it leaves
me feeling like I've touched a live wire. There are times that I actively run from it; I watch TV or read a book
instead of sitting in front a blank page, waiting for the voices to speak to
me.
Wishing I were
someone else (Franco’s just one example, believe me there are others), just
meant that I could focus on what I perceive as my shortcomings. One of them being the fact that unlike James Franco, I actually
have to sleep. I resent the
hell out of that. Even when I try to
deny the truth and stay up, it’s pretty ineffective. I produce shit during my sleepy sleepy times –
I might as well be in bed.
In the eye of the
shit storm pity party, I have to remind myself what I’ve told all of you that
read Brick Sandwich:
I AM ENOUGH.
I have to, otherwise I get caught in the
undertow of self-loathing and doubt and I’m still not getting my shit done. I have to repeat it like the mantra it
is. I have to remind myself that I can’t
be James Franco. His spot’s already
taken. I can only be Shayla Height. Period.
No matter how sub par that can seem in comparison, it’s still a pretty
good gig – and who knows more about being Shayla than me?
This
mini-confessional’s purpose is pretty singular:
to let you know that you are not alone.
To the people that
know me personally, I’m sure I come across as self-assured, self-possessed and
confident – and I am. But, even I have my doubts. I’m not immune to shitty feelings, I’m not
impervious to the bad voices – the ones that constantly questions my choices,
my lifestyle, my sanity. I’m no
different than anyone else. I just try
my damnedest not to let those voices have a majority stake in my psyche.
If I did, I’d
probably never open my mouth. I’d give
too much credence to what other people think and I’m sure I’d be really,
really, really hating my life right now.
Enough of this shit. I have to get back to my writing.