Life and Los Angeles

It’s so hard to be honest about where you’re at in life. 

When I say “honest”, I mean completely, no-holds-barred, THIS is where I AM in my life. Can you think of a time where someone asked you how you’ve been lately, and you told them exactly how you’ve been lately? Even when it didn’t make sense, even when it wasn’t pretty, even when it was boring?

Exactly.

It sucks that we do this. Sometimes where we’re at isn’t exactly the prettiest. Sometimes it’s ugly, sometimes it’s painful, or it’s lonely, or maybe it’s stagnant. Maybe there’s nothing wrong per se, but there’s nothing happening, and that’s the real issue. 

It’s pointless to create a blog, to say, “I’m going to write about my life,” and then write a bunch of dishonest, but pretty stuff about your life, so I’m not going to do that. It’s even more pointless to create a blog and then abandon it for nine or ten months, so I’m not going to do that (anymore).

I have written probably 20 “life update” drafts that I’ve only gotten halfway through, and never bothered to look at again. As time has gone on (and on, and on) since my last post I began to feel as though what came next had to be a grandeur “c’est la vie” article that would perfectly wrap my memories from graduating New York, my trip to Germany, and my summer in Wisconsin in this neat little package that read “here’s what these things mean in the scope of my life.” I felt like I had to write something pretty about this season of my life that, simply put, moved too fast. So much happened, and as it did, I thought, “I should write about this, what a great life event to write about!” And then I would think, “Cool, but what do you have to say about this event? Why does it matter?”

Here’s some life events: I graduated from AMDA New York, and I miss it. Also, I spent three weeks attending a vocal/musical theatre intensive in Germany and it was awesome. Lastly, when I wasn’t in Germany, I spent my summer in Wisconsin working two jobs. I’m lucky my bosses didn’t fire me when I inevitably burnt myself out. 

I have no business trying to determine what any of these experiences mean in the '“scope of my life”, because it all happened within one season that ended maybe two months ago! I don’t know why I thought I had to analyze any of this now!

That’s kind of how I am as a human being. When things happen to me—mostly the big stuff—I feel that it is my duty as a sentient being to take in these experiences, and immediately assign some sort of understanding / symbolic meaning / resolution to them. I’m very exact in this sense. In my head, the event isn’t behind me until I’ve extracted some sort of lesson from it, and I always feel like I need to do so quickly.

I think I get it from books that I’ve read. I’ve devoured so many teen fiction books (Hey John Greene, how are ya?) about young people who went through a big season of their life, and by what seemed like the end of it, they closed that chapter of their lives (pun intended) with their own immensely profound, beautiful resolution. Movies are the same way, all literature, and basically all forms of entertainment do this because… why stop in the middle of the story? What’s the point of even writing at all? 

Ah. Okay, so I’m kind of having an epiphany as I’m writing. I believe I’ve tricked myself into thinking that I’m writing stories about my life. I’m not writing stories about my life, because stories imply lots of time and distance to extract lessons. Sometimes it’s just too soon to have those kind of answers. I’m simply writing about my life, not stories, just… posts on a tiny little blog. And if I happen to learn something as I do so, that’s great. Also, maybe not every little thing needs a takeaway?

As I’m writing about my life in the present moment (or at least, I’m trying to) that might mean it’s going to be kind of boring, short sighted, or immature, but I don’t really care. I think what’s most important is that even when it’s hard, I’m honest about the journey.

“So, here’s the brutally honest truth about my life!”

I’m continuing my training at AMDA’s LA campus, so in four short semesters I will have my BFA in performing arts, with an emphasis on musical theatre. I was really back and forth about coming to LA. For awhile I wasn’t sure if continuing with AMDA would be the right choice, because I was hoping to continue my education someplace that would allow me to explore the idea of teaching. As I discovered fairly recently, I really like to teach kids about music and theatre. When I helped out with Chequamegon Children’s Theatre in the summer, it felt incredibly fulfilling. AMDA is an excellent school that is geared toward the performer, and not necessarily the aspiring teacher.

Also, as much as I do and did love AMDA, there was a part of me that thought I wanted the average college experience. I wanted to be apart of a university in a calmer, college town, and I wanted to use my left brain occasionally. New York is amazing but sometimes it can feel cold. (I know now that I didn’t want a ‘normal college experience’, I just got overhwelmed with the perfectly kickass experience I was already having. Ironically, going after what I want for my life isn’t what I expected for my life.)

And although I literally just said that sometimes I don’t like New York, at least I knew that for a majority of the time I did like it. I had no idea what I would think of LA. In general, New York City has always been a dream of mine so AMDA New York was a no-brainer, but the west coast has never called to me like that. That sounds kind of crazy, considering my career path and the fact that Hollywood is just as (if not more) important to its success as the Big Apple. But oh well, I’m allowed to contradict myself. 

I seriously considered the BFA theatre program at UW Stevens Point, but I was ineligible to transfer, which ultimately meant starting over and applying as a freshmen, which I wasn’t inclined to do. Then, during my third semester at AMDA I found out about The New School. For those who don’t know, The New School is a liberal arts college in lower Manhattan, and it’s also the only school besides AMDA LA that would accept the credits from my conservatory certificate and allow me to transfer into a BFA program.

I spent a lot of time contemplating NYC versus LA. I talked to God a lot, I talked to my mom a lot, I even asked some of my classmates from California which they thought might be better. Finally, I reasoned that spending two years in LA was the best call for my education and my career, and I prayed to God that I’d like it.

“I’ve been basking in the LA sun for six weeks now.”

I love the campus here, and my dorm room is the height of luxury compared to what I had to put up with in New York. There is a kitchen! In my dorm room! And I use it every single day! Don’t ask me about all my dirty dishes! I don’t wash them. It’s okay, none of my roommates are washing their dishes either. We’re all just waiting until we need something, and then we’re fishing it out of the sink, washing it, and using it. (See? Brutal honesty. Practice what you preach.) 

I also love the curriculum. As the LA campus is an actual ~college~ college and not strictly a conservatory like New York, I was really nervous about being in “normal”, gen-ed classes again. I wasted my high school experience. I never did my homework because I was a serial procrastinator who let her attention deficit run wild. Truthfully, these issues had reached their peak in middle school, and by high school I simply stopped trying altogether, and I told myself I didn’t care about the consequences. I think I did this because it was too painful to confront my inability to do the bare minimum like everyone else. There was no excuse for why I struggled to keep up with homework, but I did, and I had too much pride to ask for help. (Oop! ‘Scuse me, I’m just gonna squeeze right past ya and point how truthful I’m being.)

As a sidetone, if by chance anyone still in FREE school is reading this: I know school sucks and it’s ridiculous that we spent so much time on photosynthesis and not taxes or whatever, (you’ve seen that tweet, you’ve liked it) but at some point you have to ask yourself, “Am I mad at school because it failed me, or because I failed it?” It’s okay if it’s a little bit of both, but if you don’t recognize your own fault in the matter it’s never going to get better. Never. The education system is a little bit broken, and our teachers deserve more money, but if you’re not understanding the subject you don’t have to feel like a dumb kid, you’re not. Please ask for help. Or if you’re like me, and you aren’t a dumb kid, but you struggle with applying enough focus to complete ANYTHING, you should ask for help. I’m going to say this again, if your issue is as simple as “I don’t do my homework because I have a hard time focusing on it,” and, “I’m tired of spending twice as much time as everyone else,” you should ASK for HELP. You don’t have to feel like a bad student, or a dumb kid.

So, as I was saying earlier, having spent my middle and high school career exercising bad habits, I was nervous about how I’d hold up at a collegiate level. I really, really (times one thousand) didn’t want to fail. I knew that I was going to have a much harder time than everyone else because of my lack of time management skills.

I’m very happy to say that I’ve been really hard on myself, therefore, I’m keeping up just fine. This semester, my class load is: Health and Wellness, Applied Logic & Critical Thinking, English Composition, Music Theatre: Scene Analysis, Piano Fundamentals, Individual Voice, Vocal Coaching, Ballet, and finally, Make-Up, Wardrobe & Hair. I honestly enjoy every single class! That, in and of itself, is a blessing. Yes, the gen-ed classes are stressful at times, but surprisingly I missed using my left brain. 

As far as what I think of the living in this city, I don’t give it the most glowing review. I haven’t had much time to explore outside of my immediate neighborhood, and I’m sure that (I hope that) LA is much more enjoyable the further you are from Hollywood Boulevard. To put it bluntly, my campus is (unfortunately) in a seedy, tourist-y part of Los Angeles, and that sucks. Also, compared to what I experienced in New York, the problem of homelessness around here is ten times more prevalent, and utterly heartbreaking. The street I live on runs underneath the freeway not five hundred feet from my building, and there is a colony of tents, small campers, and shopping carts underneath that bridge (as well as, I’m sure, almost all of the bridges everywhere in this area). A coworker of mine had told me that I would see a lot of this when I came out here, but I can’t help but feel overwhelmed and dismayed when I see someone down on their luck on every. street. corner. Having grown up in a suburban town in the midwest, I’m sure it surprises absolutely no one that I’d find something like this so strange and concerning, but I am who I am. 

I think I’m just ranting now.

Truly, I’m doing okay. That’s the brutally honest truth about my life right now, actually. I don’t love where I’m living, but I love what I’m doing here, and I love who I’m surrounded by. I miss New York, I miss the people I met there, and I’m probably going to go back. At least I want to. Also, I’ve been going through a bit of a metamorphosis since I got here but I’ll save that topic for what I write tomorrow, as it’s ten at night. 

As a final note, it’s been a really long time since I’ve written and posted anything, and I’ve felt oddly guilty about that. The other brutally honest truth is, as much as I love blogging, it’s hard work. It’s a time consuming task for a full time college student to take on, and it can also be a scary one. I sometimes have to battle insecure thoughts that tell me ‘no ones going to care about anything you have to say,’ but ultimately, whether or not anyone cares about what I write isn’t what matters. To me, what matters is that I published it anyways. 

However, I have to acknowledge that I consider my friends and family to be lovely, kind-hearted people, so I doubt anyone is going to go out of their way to be judgemental.

Afterall, you were kind enough to read all of this ramble. Thank you, I appreciate you a lot. 

Until the next cup of coffee!

Ken.