Ma’ Skillz

I can do a pretty badass Australian accent. It’s confusingly good. Now, I’m typically a modest, humble person, but this is something I’m not shy about. I can also whip up some pretty rad UK dialects, starting with Received Pronunciation and moving onwards and upwards towards Manchester, slipping back down for some Cockneye. I can rock a German accent, though it may come out as vaguely Austrian, and top it all of with some Spanish verses straight from Barcelona.

I’m good at dialects. I am.

But what am I supposed to do with that skill?!

I  can do a pretty good Pocahontas impersonation in “Colors of the Wind,” make some pretty satisfying soups, make a snake out of my hands, and lull my cat into a deep slumber by hypnosis.

BUT WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THESE WORTHLESS SKILLZ?! 

That’s right. Skillz with a “z.” All the more demeaning.

I have recently been trying to determine what to do with my life. By recently, I mean for the past 3 years. And it has not come to much. I am too devoted to finding something that I equal parts value, like, and am good at. I find that very few people find careers that honor those three criteria. Not because their lazy, but because it’s too damn hard.

I may be good at something that I don’t like. And I may like something that I’m not good at. Making the search ever the more difficult is a career’s value. For me, that is a path that is fulfilling on a deeper lever, that gives back in some way and goes beyond a paycheck. That need makes the search nearly impossible.

And based on my skill set, it’s hard to miss the difficulty :

1. Dialects
2. Disney Showtunes
3. Soup Making
4. Hand Origami
5. Cat Hypnosis

Then…there is always writing. A path that I deeply, deeply fear.

Having gone to school to become an actress many moons ago…alright, just a couple of years, I’m only 24…I thought that was my destiny. I felt an intense amount of joy and excitement throughout my entire “career” as an acting student. I was a part of a fairly prominent acting program and thought that I was on my way to achieving great things. I was worked to the bone, memorizing lines, attending our mandatory fitness classes, and managing to dabble in the sciences and humanities at the same time. Nothing mattered, as long as I was able to perform. THIS. WAS. IT. I loved it and I was good at it.

And then it…fizzled out right before graduation. I had no desire to audition, to throw myself at will into that dirty, dirty game. I knew that it would be a lifetime being at the mercy of every director, casting director in the world,  but mainly at the mercy of my own motivation and inspiration. That was not something I could depend on.

My final semester at school, I took part in a playwrighting practicum in London. I loved it, but in a different way. I was in control of my work. I didn’t need to be cast in a show, I was casting that shit. I also received a lot more respect in return. As an actress, I was just a brunette, vaguely ethnic looking blob. As a writer I was Tootsie Woo, recognize. I had ideas and they were heard. Not only did I have ideas, but those ideas would be converted into text and some sad sack would be asking me if they could recite them! A-whhhaaaaatt?

I liked writing. I was decent at it. And I valued it. Value.

So then…why not pursue that? Because I’d still be at the mercy of my own artistic inspiration, wouldn’t I?

When I wrote my first play in London, I experienced an intense high. I would stay up until the wee hours of the morning, scrambling to get all the lines down as quickly as they would come to me. When I watched it performed I nearly cried, and I still believe that is the greatest thing I’ve ever created. But after that deep experience I did not feel the urge to write for a few years. What if the same thing happens with writing that happened to acting? What if I’m unable to inspire myself, to be inspired? And walk away.

Even this blog is difficult, at times. I want to keep writing, to keep producing. But it’s hard when it all has to come out of me.

Where is the mindless, art-less desk job where I don’t need to be “on” every second. Or even better, a job where I can just speak in an Australian accent all day while cooking soup and cooing at cats?

I know it’s out there.

 

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And here we are.

It’s been a while since my last true post. I really couldn’t tell you why. I have this disorder where I purposefully avoid doing things that would be the most beneficial. Paying bills, applying to jobs, combing my hair, etc. I had reached a personal sweet spot, where I just craved writing. Throughout the day I would jot down little notes to myself, keeping track of every little gem that came across my mind so I would be able to
blog about it later. I would write until 4 am, with three or so posts to show for it and would only publish one so I would have something for a rainy day.

And here I am, literal years later, and I am really sad it’s been so long. It’s hard even to find where to begin because with so much space between then and now my life is truly on a who different plane, and where would I even begin?

Well, I found something I wrote 2 years ago (2 years!!) on a forgotten bog that I want to share. Though things have really changed for me since then, after I read this I realized I’m still the same doofy, little, turd muffin I was then and I should celebrate that by continuing “Adventures of…” So here’s my post, and here’s hoping some of you are still out there:

“I love to blog. And I hate to blog.

I love to blog because it gives me an opportunity to spew my asinine thoughts, musings and idea. It is an outlet for all the crap that is floating around in my head and posting something gives off the impression that it is going somewhere. That someone, even maybe one person, is reading it. And that give it validity.

I hate to blog for the same reason. It gives everyone a false sense of importance, as if these words were published in The New York Times Magazine or even as if having a blog was the equivalent of having a book or two on the shelves of Barnes & Noble. For most of us (me included) this is not the case. In the course of our day we find a few minutes to ruminate over what happens to apple seeds when you swallow them, we put these thoughts in a clever, little (hopefully) well-written post accompanied, perhaps, by a cute little picture of an apple…

…and clicke “Publish,” as our words fly into the mysterious world of the internet (WHAT IS THE INTERNET, AFTER ALL? DOESN’T THAT FREAK ANYONE ELSE OUT?), while we contentedly sit back, thinking of all the hearty chuckles that our post might create and we grab an actual apple from our respective fridges.

Look at me for instance. Metaphorically, of course. If you’re actually looking at me either you’ve cut a whole in my wall or I’ve had a senior moment and have wandered into your room…But look at me. I’m in my bed at 4pm on a Monday, in pajamas, and I’m writing a post about posting. What is it all for? Who is it for? And not only is it a post but it is my first post EVER on Tumblr.

Well this is what it’s for…

I’m Tootsie Woo. That’s not my birth name, if you haven’t guessed, but for all intents and purposes it is my name here. I’m 22 years old, I’m of the female persuasion, I’ve recently graduated from college, and I’m a wannabe actress. Now if the rambling, “I hate to blog,” portion of this post didn’t scare you away, then the “wannabe actress” part certainly did. And if you’re still reading after that, I don’t think I want you as a follower anymore…I kid, I kid, all followers are welcome: cat stranglers and drag queens and bears, oh my. Ok, bears aren’t welcom because of an irrational fear I have of them, but cat stranglers and drag queens certainly are, especially drag queens, as I have an irrational love for them.

Back to why I’m writing this. As an actress and a writer (yes, I’m one of those), I believe the best way to get better is by practicing, so that is what I’m doing. I’m practicing how to write and I’m acting as if someone out there gives a damn. Here I will share my hopes, dreams, plans, goals, anecdotes, and lunch menu, just for the hell of it. I’ve heard that a blog needs a defined theme or purpose to actually succeed but I am pretty purpose-less at the moment and that is why I’m writing this to begin with. So hopefully my blog (aptly entitled “Adventures of Tootsie Woo”) and my life will both take a more defined shape as time goes on and as the writing continues. Here’s hoping. For now, enjoy my sporadic posting, my filthy language, and my odd, rambling stories and I’ll enjoy pretending I have an audience.

 

( Y ) Tootsie Woo”

 

Stay tuned to learn which aspects of the post have changed and which remain the same.

And thus we begin…

Adventures of Tootsie Woo: Part II