There is probably a more normal way
to deal with one's issues that dosn't involve dressing up in a home-made Godzilla suit and destroying a cardboard city while a pack of little kids (and most of the elders quorum) pummell you with marshmellows. however, those other methods probably don't involve mind-blowing amounts of pointless effort, can't double as a "talent" at the ward activity, and don't look nearly as cool on videotape.
to be honest, it was terrifying. last night was the first time i'v ever done one of my stupid ideas with absolutely no auxillary support. normally there's a pack of people around to bounce ideas off of and help fine tune things. this time i alone built my city and designed my costume and did the sound and planned the blocking and gathered the props and coerced friends into helping. walking onto that stage i felt exposed and alone, foolish. there was no sound from the audience, which was composed of most of the members of my new ward, except from a small boy, Tony, who started screaming and didn't stop until the curtain closed. (i think when i was trashing the place some of the stuff may have hit him.) even after the curtain closed the audience was absolutely silent. Mike Law, who was emceeing, reminded everyone to clap. and they did. i felt terrible. i mean, sure it's weird to have a hailstorm of marshmellows pelting you as you try to crush cardboard boxes, but it was the "i have exposed myself as the freak i am" feeling that was scary. of course, i immediately had to rip off my costume and run out in front of the curtain to sing backup w/ Mike & Julianne. my home teacher (who was running sound) and my visiting teacher were kind enough to pick up marshmellows while we sang.
anyway, as strange as it was, the responce was stranger. i went out into the gym to start cleaning up and see if Julianne had videotaped it and i found myself in a circle of people telling me how cool it was and when was the return scheduled? would i make another monster costume and have a battle? it was almost as terrifying as being on stage because this time i couldn't pawn off the credit to anyone else.
did i sublimate enough? did i purge my extitential angst from America's role in atomic showdowns by turning myself into a symbol and giving everyone else a chance to destroy me? probably not. or maybe so. i'm much less angry about things and i seem to have won a new respect from the pack of people i go to church with. or, if not respect, at least a new perspective. and i learned that whatever else i may have lost, i can still costume. my suit cost me less than $30, was built out of foam, duct tape, and spray paint, i didn't actually sew anything, and i looked AWESOME! i was glorying in it later to Christopher over dinner. he laughed and said, "of course you didn't loose your costuming ability. you just sometimes think you've lost it. it never goes away." and really, that's the best thing. my voice, if i don't use it, grows weak and inflexable. my prowess at racquetball is gone. my job is evolving into something i might not be good at if i don't work on it, i'v lost an entire social group, and i live in someone else's house. but my costuming, i'v got it and it's not going to go away.
to be honest, it was terrifying. last night was the first time i'v ever done one of my stupid ideas with absolutely no auxillary support. normally there's a pack of people around to bounce ideas off of and help fine tune things. this time i alone built my city and designed my costume and did the sound and planned the blocking and gathered the props and coerced friends into helping. walking onto that stage i felt exposed and alone, foolish. there was no sound from the audience, which was composed of most of the members of my new ward, except from a small boy, Tony, who started screaming and didn't stop until the curtain closed. (i think when i was trashing the place some of the stuff may have hit him.) even after the curtain closed the audience was absolutely silent. Mike Law, who was emceeing, reminded everyone to clap. and they did. i felt terrible. i mean, sure it's weird to have a hailstorm of marshmellows pelting you as you try to crush cardboard boxes, but it was the "i have exposed myself as the freak i am" feeling that was scary. of course, i immediately had to rip off my costume and run out in front of the curtain to sing backup w/ Mike & Julianne. my home teacher (who was running sound) and my visiting teacher were kind enough to pick up marshmellows while we sang.
anyway, as strange as it was, the responce was stranger. i went out into the gym to start cleaning up and see if Julianne had videotaped it and i found myself in a circle of people telling me how cool it was and when was the return scheduled? would i make another monster costume and have a battle? it was almost as terrifying as being on stage because this time i couldn't pawn off the credit to anyone else.
did i sublimate enough? did i purge my extitential angst from America's role in atomic showdowns by turning myself into a symbol and giving everyone else a chance to destroy me? probably not. or maybe so. i'm much less angry about things and i seem to have won a new respect from the pack of people i go to church with. or, if not respect, at least a new perspective. and i learned that whatever else i may have lost, i can still costume. my suit cost me less than $30, was built out of foam, duct tape, and spray paint, i didn't actually sew anything, and i looked AWESOME! i was glorying in it later to Christopher over dinner. he laughed and said, "of course you didn't loose your costuming ability. you just sometimes think you've lost it. it never goes away." and really, that's the best thing. my voice, if i don't use it, grows weak and inflexable. my prowess at racquetball is gone. my job is evolving into something i might not be good at if i don't work on it, i'v lost an entire social group, and i live in someone else's house. but my costuming, i'v got it and it's not going to go away.
posted by naudy at 11:53 AM
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