Called to something different...

I'm back in NYC for the long haul. After my previous post, I returned to Estes Park for a couple weeks to take care of little brother Sam while Mom and Dad took Ben to college at A&M- another Aggie! Whoop! (I am the biggest Aggie fan that never attended Texas A&M)

It was another fantastic break from the heat of NYC in summer, and the stress of living right in the middle of everything I need to be doing. I hiked, I read, I cooked, I sat in a chair and watched movies. I strengthened friendships. And I prepared myself to return to the city and work at what I believe I was made to do.

During the week and a half I was here, I auditioned for a new play called Gastroenteritis on the F Train, part of Manhattan Theatre Rep's One Act Play competition. I had received the sides ahead of time, worked at them, got a real feel for them, prepared, and was looking forward to the audition. I walked in the room the day of and everything felt dead. An audition that I had been looking forward to for days was falling completely flat right in front of my eyes. Needless to say, I left the building more than a little upset, and completely ready to go home.

That night I got an email saying I had been given a part.

Who can say why it happened. Was I a second choice? Did I completely misinterpret the audition? I'd like to think it was because they saw something in me, something special that even my bad auditioning couldn't hide. Something that I've always felt was in me.

It's a small part in a small play, but I couldn't be more thankful for it. I couldn't be more thankful for any opportunity to not only do what I love, but share part of myself.

Over the course of being away I came to a realization, one that I think I've known, but had gotten pushed aside and forgotten somewhere along the way: I'm not doing this for me. I'm doing this because to serve others, and because God has given me a dream and a drive. When Judith Light visited my school last year, she talked about how she believes entertainment is a service industry, and rarely has anything made more sense to me. I truly believe I am meant to serve in that way. Sometmes I lay in my bed late at night and I think that I just can't do enough, I just can't give enough. I want to give it all, everything, because that's why I do what I do. To share. To move. To change. To help. To entertain. And I can always give more of myself in pursuit of that ideal.

I look at the people I most admire, and how tirelessly they have worked over the years to be the best they can be. And I want that. I want to share and give all of myself so that maybe I can one day be that to someone else. I could kick myself (and have done so) sometimes because of my laziness. If I can't work toward this every day, then what am I doing?

I don't really know what the point of this post is. I felt the need to write, so I did. Sometimes I look at myself and I think how foolish I am, how ridiculously seriously I take all this, and how much I overestimate myself. But there's always another little something even deeper down inside that tells me to not give up. So I'm not going to quit giving myself. No matter how charming a normal life sounds, I can't do that right now. It's not how I was programmed. There's something in me that draws me to this lifestyle. I will follow that call.

Back to NYC after a month away

I spent the last month having a decidedly NON-New York Experience. I made the decision to run away from the sweltering heat and steadily building discontent of NYC and fly home for a couple weeks. A couple weeks turned into three with a mission trip tacked on the end; I loved every minute of it. Partially because I didn't have to worry about becoming a sweat-dripping, red-faced monster when I stepped out the door, but mostly because I didn't have to worry, period. That's such a fantastic, indescribable, wonderful feeling. It's also, unfortunately, not reality. Not past the age of 18.

Now it's true that God tells us not to worry, and I understand what He means; My eventual destination is secured, and I have a really big helper on my side. So, from the big perspective, life is pretty carefree. But life while we're living it is full of, if not worry, then thinking. Choosing. Taking action. Making mistakes. Struggle is what life is made of. Perhaps we'll get back to that in a bit.

I spent last week in El Salvador at an orphanage called Casa Hogar Jehovah Jireh. My family and I stayed there before when we were on our six-month Central American extravaganza. It's supported by a wonderful company called SHIP and is filled with the sweetest, kindest, most loving kids I've ever known. It's hard for me to even think back on them right now without being overcome; these kids are amazing. We planted gardens and built showers and delivered quail coops and took kids to waterparks and it was a truly fantastic week. It was also a week of much self-examination. I can't speak highly enough of the people that were on the trip with me, both my family and the others there. Such fearlessness, such a complete lack of inhibition or conceitedness; it's hard for me to explicate clearly so I guess I'll put it this way: If I learned one thing from last week it's how much I'm stuck in my head and how often that makes me selfish. How often do I think of myself before others? How can I serve like that? All "spirituality" aside, how much do I limit myself in that way, by overanalyzing instead of just jumping in and DOING?

How many people would meet me and get an impression even close to what I think of those kids? If they can afford to live with such love surely I can too.

I think somewhere in there there's an answer to the musings up at the top; at the very least there's some wisdom. When all I think of is myself, I'm bound to get a little sick of the same thing over and over. If I overanalyze every situation I'll never be surprised. And if I can learn to see struggle, obstacle, work as the stuff life is made of, the stuff that makes living being alive, then I might just start greeting life a little bit more like those kids. Did I just make sense? I'm not sure, but I think I needed to write it.

So all of my problems are solved, yes? No, certainly not. I'm still an unemployed actor who feels more alone than ever in the most crowded city in America, and once I figure me out I can move on to life's other great unsolved mysteries such as how to stay fit while eating what I want, is bigfoot real, and why can't I keep track of a set of fingernail clippers ever. But I may be able to get some sleep tonight now.

On my last night at the orphanage one of the kids slid a bracelet they made onto my wrist. I intend to wear it FOREVER... or at least until it falls apart. Just as a little reminder of how I want to live my life: With love.