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    Showing posts with label Adam Samtur. Show all posts
    Showing posts with label Adam Samtur. Show all posts

  1.  

    When I was finally first physically separated in 2008, I was meeting the worst, lowest, most immoral parts of the man I had spent so many years with, cared about, and created a person with. I had begged for the separation for years, but it wasn't going to happen without major problems. It was such an emotionally violent blast of things. Add to that not having enough money to survive, fearing the loss of health care, trying to give up cigarettes with Chantix (which turned out to be close to full disaster for me – that medicine is NOT for everyone), and the worst was what was happening for and to my then-teenager who was burdened with what wasn’t his war. I had wrongly attributed more basic human decency to his other parent. It was the beginning of a horrendous time.

    During all of this, I still received casting notices and sometimes looked at them. I was torn because on one hand, I needed to find more paid work. On the other hand, when you belong in the acting world, holding all kinds of other jobs can feel deadening. And I needed to be alive. I responded to a casting notice. It was for the title role in an off-off Broadway play.

    I was called in for an audition.  On my way, I needed to cry. I stuck my face in what serves as a phone booth these days, and I bawled. Then I used the reflection of the metal parts of the phone as a mirror and fixed my make-up a bit. And I continued on to the theatre space. Sides (pages from the script) were available, so I had a good half hour to get familiar with the part I’d be asked to do at the audition. I found the character so interesting, intelligent, psychic, and maybe psychotic or maybe just perceived that way because she saw what others couldn't. And what stood out to me was she didn’t seem to think she was crazy at all. I thought, I could do this. I could really do this.

    When it was almost my turn, I was right outside the room where the auditions were going on. I heard the woman before me yelling the lines. I believed that wasn’t a good choice and secretly felt grateful that she made it easier for me.

    The writer and director and a third man were there. A woman was there to read lines with those auditioning. As it turned out, the three men were friends and formed Just ASK Productions. Each wrote a one-act play. Each would direct one of the other plays. The title of the evening was to be: Anyone for a Threesome? – A night of very different short plays.

    I felt the character at the audition. I was able to just be her while being me. It didn’t feel difficult once I decided that she didn’t consider herself crazy. And she was so much more than symptoms. I heard the men laugh as I portrayed the character. I later thought that is good since they’ve been hearing reading after reading, so if I made them laugh, it must’ve sounded fresh and different from what they’d been hearing. When it was over, they made me feel very comfortable. I was being very forthright about my crazy work schedule, and the director chimed right in saying he was going to be directing it and the cast was small so we’d work with everyone’s schedule. They made me feel wanted. It felt deeply medicinal at that time. The writer rushed to say as I was leaving that they were making decisions that night. I knew then that I got it unless someone was going to be seen after me who was even more convincing as this character.

    The “high” I get from that kind of experience helped me at least not cry on my travels back home to the Bronx. This was not a paid gig, but it felt like a gift from God, the universe, angels, my loved ones who have passed. While I was still being put down for not making more money and for pursuing “dreams” (said as if they were hallucinations), this opportunity felt like someone/something/some force was saving me.

    That night I got the email. I would be Nicky in “I Am Tricky Nicky.”
    The role gave me a place to be "crazy" in a way. And who couldn't use a metaphorical rubber room every now and then?

    If you have the time and desire, you can see the video of the play here. It’s a little under a half hour. I appreciate the script now more than then. I don’t have to learn lines now. I am able to just watch and enjoy.

     

    The Just ASK trio had amazing energy besides being smart and creative. They had very supportive families and networks. We never lacked audience and our run was extended. We were even reviewed twice. My performance was highlighted positively in the reviews. This was a large dose of medicine that was going to help me face each day during a very dark period. If I had been at a more normal place, this could have been more skyrocketing. I was at an extremely low place, so this was helping to bring me up to functioning. At the cast party (I unfortunately got too drunk, fell asleep, and missed much of it), the trio were full of lovely surprises including a gift card for each of us. When I realized I could use the card in the supermarket, I got excited. I was in real need at the time, and this was another unexpected gift of survival. One of the guys looked at me in disbelief that I needed it for the supermarket. We were born into very different circumstances. I realized they just might not understand how enormous this whole experience was to me, but it doesn’t lessen how much appreciation I had and have for them.


  2. For Adults Only

    Tuesday, February 26, 2013


    For Adults Only
    (& only the kind who can handle a frank talk on sexuality with a dash of humor)

     
    I have been feeling rather flattered lately.  Received many compliments on my photos. A few were from certain individual men who can at times make me tingle.  They now live far enough away that I can tingle safely.  Little chance of actual contact.  We are all so scared of having our hearts stomped on in one way or another... especially if earlier stompings are still interfering with free breathing.

    In spite of much, I have to continue to acknowledge my attraction to men.  It may or may not be the whole story, but it is real.  I sometimes question my heterosexuality.  I have wondered at times if I were raised in a free society where neither orientation is considered the right one or the wrong one, would I be bisexual.  Life isn't over, so who knows what lies ahead.

    In my senior year of high school, I joined a filmmaking group and turned out to be the only straight girl in the group.  I went to an all-girl high school where most of the gay girls were out, at least at school.  But, like in the larger world, the majority of students identified as heterosexual.  So it felt shocking to me to discover myself as the heterosexual minority of one in the filmmaking group.  I remember feeling weird the way I would if everyone had been Chinese or anything identifiably different, and for a moment, I wanted to leave.  In my head, it went something like, "If you leave now, it would be only because everyone is gay.  Is that okay with you?  No.  That's not a good reason to walk out when minutes ago you wanted to make a film about the school just like everyone else in this room.  If you leave for no other reason than they are gay, well that is what prejudice is.  And they get to make a film, and you don't."  So I stayed.

    We became friends.  They tolerated so many straight girl questions of mine and did their best to answer.  One of those girls is a woman I am still friends with now.  We don't see each other as often as we could I suppose.  But we are in touch, and it is heartfelt.  She and her love came to see me in a production of Vagina Monologues.  A whole bunch of us went out one night to see lesbian theatre in the South Bronx.  We have mutual admiration for each other.  When I told her how patient they were back in high school with my questions, I learned that they didn't see it that way at all.  They felt so good that a straight girl wanted to know them and didn't look down on them. They found me so open-minded.  When introducing me to other people at times back then, they'd say, "She's straight, but she's cool."  I have since of course had many gay friends, but that group was my first real experience.  So my world wasn't as closed as it might have been.  It has typically had people of many kinds in it.  Plus I live in the Bronx, New York which makes it conducive to having many different kinds of people in one's life, helping shape it.  Just ethnically speaking, over 20 languages are spoken in this borough.  It's a real opportunity to meet the world.  Anyway, this was the long scenic road to saying that back in high school, I was introduced to the songs of Lavender Jane (Alix Dobkin). This always remained in my mind somewhere.

     


     

    One of the men I was referring to earlier calls me from time to time to express something good-natured.  When he lived in the same city as I do, he seemed to want to run toward and away from me at the same time.  I may have felt the same. It was too close in emotional time to all the trauma of my own hell to feel normal. Not even sure what my normal is anymore.  On one of these calls, he knew I was going through something hard and he left me a message reminding me that I have a good soul and that I should have mercy on my soul.  His sentiment sounded so sincere, not clichéd, and actually made me feel better.  It just reminded me that I have the power to let myself feel better much of the time.  And I did have an open heart to receive his words.  At times, I have rerun that message in my head just to help my shoulders go down and my breathing flow.  I wondered again why we didn't get together when we could have.  I am trusting God/the bigger picture/the universe that things went as they needed to for both of us.  He's with the woman he is supposed to be with probably.  They had years together and then were on a break (yes, like Ross and Rachel though Rachel didn't see it that way -- I was always with Ross on that one).  Starting with someone new can feel like work.  But I waver, going back and forth where I feel platonically toward him and where I don't.  In terms of dating, it didn't ever get off the ground.  I don't count a pizza after a poetry reading that we did not plan to meet at but happened to both go to as a date.  But in terms of beginning to get to know each other beyond the poetry readings, that did start.  And now though he's in another state, he seems to want to continue.  I seem to have trouble.  I think because my heart is open and tears so easily flow, and I can't stand the sad sack I can be.  Yet he seems to be the kind of man with whom I can feel safe.  He has experienced my anger and disappointment, my affection, my concern, accepted an apology from me that I needed to give, heard my prose, my poetry, and my comedy, and still says I’m awesome.  I get teary just re-reading what I wrote.

    In some ways, I have returned to some degree to where I was in my emotional growth before I got swallowed into a relationship that expired long before it actually ended.  I remember in my twenties wondering about me and the possible bisexual inside.  Back then, homosexuality was just getting off the mental illness list.  I was born into a very problematic (yet special) set of circumstances, and anything else that wasn't considered "normal" was going to tip the scale of what I could bear.  When I was 17½, my family (excluding my mother) disowned me for dating a black man and not lying or feeling ashamed about that.  It was awful and yet maybe necessary for me to have had a shot at life.  A former therapist and I once called it a disguised blessing.  Anyway, I cannot imagine that dating a woman would have gone over well.  But none of that was conscious at the time.  I was a product of the mindset that straight was normal and gay was abnormal.  So even when a girlfriend in eighth grade wanted me to teach her how to tongue-kiss, the best I was able to do was explain and draw diagrams.  

    My grandmother had gotten upset that I wasn't upset over attending an all-girl high school.  It was one of the better schools of my choices, and she knew that.  She wasn't sorry I was going there, but she was uncomfortable with my comfort.  I assured her I liked guys but not 9th through 12th-grade boys.  I had little tolerance for the immaturity.  I dated older males.  That wasn't thrilling to her either, understandably. Everything was layered with complication.

    Anyway, getting into what turned out to be a very long involvement (that turned into a marriage of sorts) and staying together beyond the point of it being healthy, stunted my inner growth.  So many things I used to wonder about have now returned to my consciousness.  Many things I used to want to do are in process.  Months after the separation, I got cast as the title role in "I Am Tricky Nicky" -- a very off Broadway play by Adam Samtur.  We were reviewed twice, and my performance was highlighted in both reviews.  So while I was enduring a terrible time in some ways, my teenage child getting used to go against me in a divorce and all sorts of emotional horror, blessings were present in other ways.  A long ago person found me, Blake, and that is another tender-hearted story, but the part that is relevant here is that he told me that the universe would not abandon me.  I held onto that tightly.  The mix of things taking place definitely felt like loved ones who had passed over were pitching in to help me along with people right here on Earth.

    Recently, a man who only knows me on line told me I was "ridiculously appealing."  I assumed that, based on other things he said with his male friends, that was his cleaned up choice of words.  It did feel good, I admit.  He's in another state too. First, I wished he was closer.  Then I was glad he was farther.  Oy.  In many ways he is ALL WRONG for me.  Red flags are flying.  I told God, "I get it.  I'm being given an opportunity to see what I've really learned about myself from past decisions and if I can apply it.  I get it, God."

    So how am I doing on my midterms you might wonder.  The miles help.  Yes, I need the help.  There is something very appealing about a high testosterone man.  It lasts for a short time.  If it goes on longer than it should, I feel zapped.  But when it's good, it's sexy.  He sent me this which probably expresses what I'm trying to better than I can.

                                       http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISFmWpexS5g

    That, to me, is one of the hottest, sexiest, most intense and beautiful 5 minutes on video.  But does she look happy!?  Yet that emotional turmoil and intensity is home to me.  It’s real and somewhat tortured and beautiful and passionate; nothing fake.  Exhausting though.

    Back to off-video real life.  He said he might be able to visit family in Brooklyn for a week this spring.  I said, "Hey! Get back!"  We laughed.  Days later, he spoke of that falling through and how he’d have no place to stay.  Hmmm.  I said nothing.

    I do like a man with balls, as I've said to friends in the past, but getting the size right on those balls -- that's the challenge.

    Some things may just have to remain fantasy for now or for forever or until the right level of alcohol changes that.                                                                                                                                                                              

                                     (Not me in the photo – just in my head do I look that fit.)