i believe i have a glitch.
it's not a bad thing, so, maybe it's more like a wrinkle; like that bit of secret sauce football coaches keep in the back of the playbook for when they need to shake things up.
like a bonus layer.
this glitch is how I process things; how I take things in. moments and memories. i don't think it's normal. it's a bit excessive, but i'm ok with it. we all need our signature something. we all need our sword from the stone.
so, these moments (experiences) and memories of mine become ridiculously thick. not overwhelming, just so...damn...thick. thick enough to wade in. every now and then, it feels as if i'm strapped to a chair and these moments and memories are playing in front of me, on a big screen, like indie films i know i'm about to be tested on.
these experiences and memories of mine demand to be processed; either right away, or even many, many years after. they present this coded language/emotion that just has to be solved. my mind starts to consume itself. my heart pounds. everything around me shrinks, and i just dig. i dig deep, playing over characters and idiosyncrasies from these very particular (and personally valuable) late night conversations, true loves, arguments, fights, mistakes, meetings, projects, phone-calls, rehearsals, cast parties, board meetings, failures, train rides, emails, embarrassments, and morning walks.
most of the time, they hit me right before I go to bed. other times in the car, on the subway, while I'm running, during breakfast.
But when they do...BAM! they don't pull the punch.
and if i happen to be in the right state of mind, the right peaceful atmosphere, that allows me to solve whatever that moment or memory is trying to tell me...again...BAM!...a rabid dose of gripping clarity (or connotation, or vision) gets shot into my soul like a pulp fiction epipen.
why am I this way? no reason i can truly explain. the equation of it all kind of looks like this, though:
an unhinged imagination +
parts of my childhood +
my military experience +
six purely magical friends +
the theatre +
= the present me
and here's the thing...
in the end, every single ounce of clarity, or connotation, or vision, or insight i've EVER been able to process out of these particular moments and memories of mine has translated to one thing....
the same obligation the stage actor has with his or her character: craft something around what you feel, polish it, and present it to an audience.
and when I say "obligation," i'm not talking about some petty, aspirant creative desire. i mean, when I'm not translating the emotion/value of my moments and memories into something other people can use - i feel blasphemous. against my own presence. against the space and air I take up.
over the past year or so, all of my translations (no matter the scene, characters, emotions) have begun hovering around the theme of what it means to be human and the concept of "getting good." this, i feel, is no glitch. this is happening for a reason. this is space in which i'm suppose to craft, polish, and present.
Doc & Company is the name of this space.
a space for new moments.
a space for new memories.