So this is going to be quick, because I'm busy as hell, and I don't have internet regularly. But it's been a long time since I've posted, and I want to let people have some idea of what is up with the Iz monster. I mean myself.
So, and most of you know, with two weeks left before blast off, I signed up for the Tom Todoroff Acting Conservatory in New York City. I was accepted, I have been here for... two and a half weeks. It was and is confusing to me, why I am here.
No, that's not accurate. I know why I'm here. It just sounds like madness when I try to explain it so it's easier to just say I don't know. I'm here because I had a taste of the school over the summer for a week, and realized, in a way that would take a long time to articulate, that this was the answer to my prayer for help finding what to do with my life, in a career type, and money making sense. I still don't know how exactly that will play out. It seems like it may involve acting. I knew it involved story-telling. I was pointed towards writing/drawing, but this came a long and it...it just felt so right. I had talents and skills that I have been developing that are applicable. And, the acting we're doing, I love. Like I love the improv dance I've been doing for years now.
So, lets see if I can give a good update in the next fifteen minutes. Because fifteen minutes is all I have. You see, I live in the worst segment of Brooklyn. By district, it has the highest crime rate. But, I live in a nice(ish) part of it. It is 97% black, at an estimate. Most of them are fine people. I have not yet been mugged or killed. I actually feel fairly comfortable that I won't be killed. I just stick to the main streets at try to get home by seven or eight, and not wear anything that looks too nice. Though I doubt being white helps me blend.
I moved into a house that another conservatory student had just found. When I got there, it was chaos. There was weirdness with the realtor, there was weirdness with the landlord, it's a story in it's own right. For a day or two I was wondering if I was going to come back home to our apartment with the locks changed and our stuff out on the curb, rifled through and stolen.
The apartment was not finished. We had one toilet, no washing machine, no gas for the stove, no hot water, no shower, period. With much shouting and gnashing of teeth we got hot water and the planned second toilet, sans toilet seat. In fact, everything was supposed to be done October 1st. The reality is far from this.
Internet was supposed be installed two days ago, the washer and dryer, one day ago. The internet won't be in for at least another week and a half, the washer and dryer who knows. I've come to accept that, though they may be fine people, everyone we are dealing with is full of shit. Exorbitantly full of shit.
There are plenty of genuinely nice people here. And there are lots of terrified people, and lots of people who really don't care about you or humanity in general.
my classes are amazing. It's even worth living in this insane asylum to have the privilege to go to this school. And living with my fellow students is also worth the price of admission. They're highly motivated, and it eggs me on to be more active myself, to great creative effect.
This school is for keeps. Its hard work, its uncomfortable at times, it's a lot of work, it's a lot of new things, it requires an incredible amount of dedication. And it's kicking my ass into great places.
Now if you'll excuse me, my fifteen minutes are up, and I need travel for 40 minutes so I can pick up my laundry and take it to the laundromat before the streets get scary.
Much love from the fast track