this game is about focus, determination, making a brand of yourself you can be proud of and marketing that brand. just like any other industry or product- not everyone is going to latch onto yours and love it. it just won’t happen that way. it’s much more important that you’re a brand you can take pride in at the end of the day- and then when the haters hate, at least you can turn around and say you’re still the most authentic version of yourself, and you’re not afraid of that.

classes are going incredibly well- i love this school, it feels like home when i walk onto campus in the mornings. it really truly does. i just feel so lucky to be able to be back out here and working hard at the dreams i’m lucky enough to be chasing.

i’m the luckiest girl for those that stand in my corner, and while there are some that i wish stood there among them, i know i’m okay without them there. that the ones that matter won’t leave and are truly the irreplaceable gems in my incredibly busy life. they are the ones that understand 80% of my waking life is devoted to chasing this dream- and will be there in the tiny corners of it i can find to text, skype, call and write. in the meantime, those that are out there and living their lives without me *well, one really* who i sincerely miss and love- well… your picture is by my bed (one that Florence took), i think of you everyday, and i know someday maybe you’ll come back home, we’ll make amends and move on with our lives- i’ll never stop loving you, and hoping for you. duck.

a breakdown of my yesterday: it began with a 7 am workout with classmate until about 8:00 something. then the 9 am warmup at school- which yesterday was more or less a second workout. 10 am acting class (additional two hours of cardio), 1 pm lunch/trying desperately to find a script for a scene with a partner, 2 pm singing class, 5 pm break/script work, 6 pm extra improv class until 9 pm, home- desperate Internet search for a monologue to rehearse tonight and perform tomorrow. then bed- and now it’s time for much the same thing over again.

today is audition class and scene study. and i booked a room at the school for a bit tonight to work on my monologue– once i choose one that is.

i really am trying to pour everything i’ve got into every minute of this course this time around- i hate that i let so much personal stuff get in the way of my time here a year ago. it’s important to use that stuff- but i really let it stand in my way rather than help me along.

it’s time to move onwards and upwards- let go of it all and just put all i’ve got into this. i’m one of the lucky few that gets to chase their dreams- i feel i owe it to those who can’t pursue theirs to live mine to the fullest.

but, i finally did it.

i’m not sticking around to blog right this second- i have a reunion with bc bestie to get to. but i’ll send an update soon on my new little world put here. emphasis on little…

soon first day of classes tomorrow <3 finally home.

-mk.

don’t get me wrong, there’s excitement too- the heart racing, about to jump off a cliff type of excitement. i love the initial feel of the free-fall- but i do get that feeling that my heart may actually beat straight through my chest.

i’m looking forward to a career of that feeling- at auditions, while performing, in classes- and at the same time, it’s a feeling of home too. i love acting- i love living through other characters, the chance to explore and animate these beings before only existing on scripts before me.

i cannot wait for my chance to do this all over again, at the same time i’m somewhat paralyzed with the fear that i am moving so quickly towards it. hope you enjoy the moments of the terrifying adventures ahead.

It was Monday morning and the fumes of the school bus clouded as it came to an abrupt stop outside the Saint Kingsley Junior High. The few students who had ridden the route this morning filed off the bus quietly and watched after the children as they departed without a word. The bus driver, new to town and on the route for the first day thought to herself “Surely this isn’t normal…”

As the bus driver sat in her seat confused, she looked to the back of the bus, and gestured to the last passenger that she saw sitting, numbly and immobile, in one of the dingy old seats. The bus driver wondered about her young company. What was going on with this poor girl? The whole bus, which had been notably empty this morning had silenced, and remained silenced, when it had stopped to pick up this child today. Surely that wasn’t something that occurred on this bus every morning.

As she observed the girl of about 12, she felt sad for the kid. There was no hope in those eyes, there was nothing there but a sort of loneliness. As she gazed at the young one’s sad expression in the mirror above the windshield she felt the girl’s reluctance to join the others on the school grounds. “Last stop honey, all ashore that’s going ashore!” she said pleasantly, trying to be cheerful enough to bring a smile to the saddened face that stared out the bus window. Instead, the girl simply slid off her seat and clung her books to her chest, face to the floor as she stepped down the steps and in hardly a whisper thanked the driver for the ride.

The driver, saddened and concerned with the girl’s demeanor, observed as the child sloughed down the steps and onto the pavement of the school’s drive. The girl let out a heavy sigh as she looked around the yard, and then clutching her books ever so tightly, made her way, with her head hanging, towards the school building.

The children watched as Mary Reddert walked to the front steps. Some gaped in shock that she was there at all, others simply tried to distract themselves in a manner similar to which we all try not to look at the highway accidents we drive by, but they were failing, as we all do, to tear their eyes from the scene. Mary felt their eyes heavily pushing into her, and so she avoided their gazes as she tried to ignore that terrible sense in your stomach that only hits when the world seems to stare into your soul.

No one expected her to be her this week, let alone today. And there was no one that quite knew what they were supposed to do around her. None of the children had ever been so close to such a situation before.

Mary was not by any means an unpopular child. In fact, she had many friends among the whispers that followed her path to the stone staircase. She included friends from various cliques and was admired by those that could not approach her on the grounds in the Monday morning sun. No one knew what to do, and Mary didn’t blame them, she understood how hard it must have been for them to have heard the news.

Her family stood proudly in the shadow of her grandfather, and her great grandfather. They had built this town into what it had become, and done so honestly and through the kind of work that many always dream they could do if they just had the devotion. It was no shock to young Mary that the death of her father last Friday morning had hit the community so hard. Still a young man with many years left to build on the legacy on his fathers, Fred Reddert had brought vitality to this place and everyone had known him as a figure that they loved; he was to them more an idea, an angel and a miracle than a man. The strength of the Reddert township and the character of it’s perseverance had been embodied by the man found lifeless on last Friday’s rainy afternoon.

Now before them stood Mary. Only twelve, and yet tearless and strong herself, something she had surely inherited from her father, and his father, and her great grandfather. Suddenly, as Mary reached the steps, she turned. She was now face to face with the crowd of children around her, and the supervising teachers that were simply breathless at the sight of her and distraught at the thought of the suffering she must be cloaking. As she had turned, she had raised her head, her chin and her gaze as she unclenched her fingers and begun to take in what she saw around her.

As she had made her way to the school, she had not seen what was there. The statue that had stood in front of her school as a tribute to the Reddert family for their contribution and practical foundation of the local community had been covered in tribute to her late father. As she looked closer she saw the flowers, and a few beautifully glowing candles among the cards, and photos that had been arranged in fond memory by the school’s principal and staff.

As she approached the monument, Mary’s knees weakened and a tear touched her cheek as her glance landed on a picture of her father and herself. Mary felt a hand graze her shoulder. Twelve year old Julia Delores, Mary’s best friend, handed her a card as she looked nervously past her. Mary looked at her friend who could not look at her, and threw her into an embrace. As she stood holding onto Julia, another hand grazed her and another card was presented, and another, and another.

Mary was only twelve herself, but she saw the love of the town that day and she saw her father in their hearts. He had loved this place, and had given his all, every moment and every breath, to making it better and making it beautiful. Mary found the soul of Reddert that day, and as she let her books clatter to the ground, she clung to, and held forever, the spirit of Reddert instead.

prep for the big move is still stressing me. still. i just want to be ready now. i have so much i’m still waiting on- money to replace the savings i lost when i was unceremoniously dumped from my mini dream job with no warning or paperwork. i’m still apartment hunting, i’m still trying to figure so much else out… i’m just a little overwhelmed today, and i’m still in bed.

that said, i’m starting to get more of a handle of reigning myself in diet-wise. it’s tough where i work when there is so little accessible to you unless you have a vehicle. at meal times at work i miss my car so much. but i’m looking forward to that never being a problem again when i’m back in Van. public transit there will get you anywhere at pretty much any hour. public transit here just hit budget cuts and had three or four routes pertaining to most employees at my day job altered or cut. on days on insta-winter, that hits hard.

i’ve been encouraged of late to share some of my meandering fictions… i don’t really know how i feel about it. i love to write- i just don’t always love to share what i’ve written… that said, i found an old story of mine online the other night. perhaps it’ll make a guest appearance over the next few days…

off to daydream through my morning, mk.

this has been a theme of late- i’ve got no clue why but people have been out there typing my name into search engines and pulling up this little online journal of mine. i’m not completely sure how i feel about it- but it certainly makes me think back on some of my posts of yesterdays long gone by.

i know that in some ways i haven’t let you too far into my personal life over the last year- i won’t lie, it’s been a tough one. i’m sure that you would understand, and i’m sure that in the future there will be many more adventures to let you in on. of late, i’ve just come to value my privacy in a whole new way.

when so much of my life turned upside down this past year i truly came to appreciate the friends who stood by me when it was the toughest to do and i began to shy away from those who clearly weren’t up to the task of loving my in my darkest moments. it sounds much more dramatic than i intend it to, it’s just been a rough go and reality hits hard when you’re a little down and out (for whatever reasons that might be).

days like this with views near a hundred i begin to wonder who is out there reading this crazy foolish meandering collection of rants and raves- whoever you are, i hope you are looking forward to a new year of avid daydream chasing and i hope you chase yours along with me

xo, all yours, daydreaming mk.

here’s the basic breakdown:

i become a grump bag, like a two year old foot stomping, hissy fit throwing, pouty mcpoutington face… it’s not pretty.

i get sore- not like normal “i worked out too hard” sore, no no. i get such intense muscle pain that it hinders my movement. 2 years ago it was my hip, this time around it’s my shoulder- i feel pathetic and useless.

i get hungry- frickin’ starving hungry. and all i do is eat, and eat and eat…. not helping me get my weight in control at all. *sigh* i now also feel gross and completely out of my comfort zone physically. excellent…

so now i’m sitting here, re-watching the dilemma with vince vaughn, kevin james, and jennifer connelly- starving. and all i’ve done all night is eat carbs anyway… oh carbs… bane of my existence.

cheers *with my diet 7 up*, and goodnight my friends, xo.

its got me thinking, the big ol’ 5000. i really love to write to you all- not that i have a sweet clue who would be out there reading this. but i’ve been working on a links page of late to relay some of the awesomeness i find on other wordpressy blogs or other acting blogs. i love seeing that my blog gets a few hits here and there, but there are much more important causes, and messages out there- obviously. and i’d love to use this as a platform to share such things.

i also want to document my full journey out west and through the one year program i’m enrolled in- so i hope you’re excited for the ride. i also hope you help to keep accountable to daily blogging when the shiz hits the fan and i get ridic busy… oy, thinking about it makes me tired.

i’m hoping to have my linky page up soon- hopefully end of next week.

someone please harass me if i don’t. kudos, and keep dreaming

what you don’t see is that in every second of every moment you have a tv on in your living room a swell of people worked on whatever it is you’ve decided to tune into. whenever you go to the movies and you see a preview, or an ad, or a poster- that all represents oodles of work and dollars earned because someone has made a career choice to be a part, in whatever way, of this crazy industry.

what you don’t see is the tireless hours spent on set, or preparing for auditions, or waiting for your cell to ring in your pocket while you serve your millionth customer at your day job offering you hope and keeping you holding onto your dreams…

what you don’t see is inside the classrooms where those that have the nerve to truly chase their dreams have the gall to enroll and devote their lives to a fiercely competitive industry that will line us up, pit us one against the other for our daily bread and then demand our camaraderie in front of a rolling camera… you don’t see where we share those moments behind closed classroom doors opening up ourselves to our every emotion to meet someone new and let them into our skin to live their experiences as our own as we embody their characters, you don’t see where we spend hours doing crazy movement classes learning about technique, dance, the simplest inflections you subconsciously make even as you just simply stand still and the interpretations that you, our audience we aim so very hard to please, subconsciously make about our every wince, tremble, step, stance and gesture…

you don’t see it all. and you’re not supposed to. that’s part of the magic. but the next time you adore what an actor does in a movie, take five minutes to google them and look at the brilliance of who they are and how hard they have worked to get where they are. most have some serious education backing them- those that don’t have some pretty brilliant experience all the same.

this is a career choice- and like any other, we constantly try to evolve and move forward with the times in our own ever changing industry where our audiences have shifted from sitting in front of a stage, to in front of gigantic screen, to a screen in their living rooms, to a screen at their desks, to a screen in the palm of their hands… we constantly hope to be promoted through the ranks, we hope to be picked for a new opportunity in our field and we hope to learn from the masters that outrank us.

but most of all, at the end of the day, what you absolutely must realize and i hope so badly that you now do, is this is a labour of love like no other. we adore entertaining you- and to do so, we must constantly work. work on ourselves, work on what we offer as a product you are buying, and work on what we present to you as part of that package.

this is a career- and it is a mountain of hard work, a dash of luck and a lifetime of tireless effort that makes the successful end up at the top of the heap. next time you idolize a performer- and even more importantly, the next time you criticize one- please remember, we are only human and we are trying day in and day out to be so much more.

off to ‘work’ to read up on improvisation- see? the hustle never stalls.