Looking for the Positive...?

I was at my Spanish class last week and was attempting to explain - in Spanish - what I am doing for work this winter (estoy removando la pintura del barco?). However, explanations being difficult, and my classmates being much more into English, they spent the break asking me for further information. Turns out one of the older guys in the class had spent some of his career with the Coast Guard, and was commiserating with me about my daily grind. "Grinding is the worst job," he told me sympathetically. "The only thing worse is having to get into the holding tank." The holding tank. aka the black water tank. aka the shit tank.
Well, today Adam and I climbed in and hauled out some 7 or so buckets of dried shit, as well as tools and a massive ventilation tube, that a cleaning crew had thoughtfully left for us the week before.
I am sure there is some humor to be found in this situation...

My Liberation

I cheat again. I seem not to be able to form focused thoughts without external encouragement. I wrote this in response to an exercise I was given a few months ago to describe influential experiences in various stages of my life. So, while the story is from high school, and while I may have lost some of the lessons, I like it, and decided I want to share.

My acting career through high school was a slow, determined, and often painful process. Through middle school and high school, and perhaps earlier, I auditioned for every play offered by my local theatre company that had a role in it for someone close to my age. It was years before I got my first call-back, and then part, in a play. I was not a particularly strong actress – a little shy and self-conscious and thus rather inhibited. However, my senior year of high school I auditioned and was cast in the play Nevermore!, based on the life of Edgar Allen Poe. It was a fun call-back – I read for the part of Annabel Lee, Poe’s love interest from youth as well as the subject of the poem. I was told by a friend at the audition that the guy reading Poe and I had "real chemistry"; however, I was cast in various Ensemble roles and wound up playing three different small characters in three different scenes.

However, the one that involved the most on my part was a scene based off the story The Telltale Heart. In the scene, I was supposed to come across the body, or the heart, or whatever, hidden underneath the floorboards and let out a blood-curdling scream.

The first time we had a read-through of the scene, I let out a intentionally comical “eek.” The director let it slide. The first real rehearsal of the scene, I think I managed a bit more of a half-hearted “Ahh!”

I wasn’t really sure what was being asked of me and hoped I’d get a little guidance. I think I got a bit of eye-rolling from the director – he’d worked with me before. Not exactly tolerance; not exactly irritation. I can’t remember if it was that rehearsal or the next one, but I had resigned myself to try and scream and not hold back, no matter what it cost me. A scream is not something you can really practice in the safety of your own home, nor was it something that I had experience doing, and I think I was afraid that I would open my mouth to scream and I wouldn’t be able to produce something that sounded like a scream. No volume, wrong tone – I’m not really sure. Afraid of failure at screaming is an odd place to be.

However, the moment came, I let loose, and out of my mouth came the most incredibly perfect, horror film/haunted house blood-curdling scream. The kind that gave people chills. I was very proud of myself. My friend was very proud of me. Even the director (I think) was very proud of me.

And it was so much fun. I looked forward to screaming each rehearsal and each performance. I screamed so much that I lost my voice for the first time, although fortunately before opening night. I was renowned for my scream. The House Manager commented to me that he would always know when to start opening the doors for intermission when he heard my scream and said it was awesome. Strangers were stirred. I made an impression; I was memorable.

Yes, I greatly enjoyed the other aspects of being in that play. But the scream was the most liberating.