Logic is like an oven mitt.

Logic is like an oven mitt.

Need I go on? What more is there to say? If you can draw conclusions from the analogy, then there may be hope for you; if not, well, then (as the great Roseanne Roseannadanna used to say) "Never mind."

On a not entirely different subject, someone finally inquired into why I have not been writing here lately. Truthfully, it hasn't been mere laziness or even innocent preoccupation that has kept me from it as much as outright hiding. The title of this installment holds a clue to at least part of the reason. Anyone who caught the missing blogs may have detected a hint of frustration seepin' out my seams.

In the time since my last surviving blog:
~ there has been a senseless death in my community caused by an immature, irresponsible, selfish act;
~ my defenses were piqued when media buffoonery crossed the line with hasty and unfair generalizations that hit too close to home; and
~ suddenly real life surroundings in every direction began to bear a closer resemblance to the shocking spectacle of Reality TV.

Now, it's my birthday.* I've been thinking that by my age I should be settled with a pretty good grasp of the world around me, but it seems that rather than making more sense, things are making less. And as I observe the smug know-it-all attitude of so many young (and old) people these days (did I really say that? Boy, am I sounding old now?!!), I can't help but wonder if "the [proverbial] hill" that people refer to "being over" when they get old is actually the tipping point between thinking that you know it all and realizing how much is outside your realm of knowledge.

When you hit those bumps near the crest of that hill, it seems that there are a couple possible results: (1) they humble you, bringing you down to earth, or (2) they send you soaring airborne into denial (you think you're still on the upward climb, but in reality, you're just full of hot air, biding your time before the inevitable crash.) I edited and ultimately deleted a few blogs because I so desperately want to be found in the former group--humble, grounded--but I had detected a pinch of smugness in the mix. (It can happen to all of us, so the best we can do is try to be ever honest, ever learning.)

Well, the kitchen timer is beeping. It's time to take the cake out of the oven. Do I really want to fold a dishtowel and hope it's thick enough to keep me from burning my hands? There must be a better way.



* July 21 (when I wrote this, not when I posted it)


Sincere gratitude to my friend, Jim Foust, whose facebook status line inspired the title (and thus the direction) of this installment of Rebekah's Core.

"Acting Out" in Desperation

I got into a conversation today about actors. My daughter and I are producing a short film together. This is Grace's first time as a producer. At eighteen years of age, she still looks young. Most girls her age trying to get in movies are pursuing the dream of being ON camera, not behind the camera--especially when they are as good looking as she is (and I'm not being biased, it's a fact.) Anyway, as she manned the door of our call back room: checking in actors, handing out sides, getting them to fill out paperwork, and dealing with those who grew impatient waiting, she was occasionally mistaken for an actress cutting in line. A few waiting actors, in their weariness from waiting, were rude to Grace. She's good-natured and didn't let it get to her, but what she really noticed was the sudden shift in how she was treated when some of these actors learned her title, "producer." This lesson is not unique. I learned it a few years ago when I first took on the "powerful" role, and I've heard countless other producers share their memories of the first time they noticed actors "kissing up to" them in hopes of getting cast.

Well, when I shared this tidbit with an actress friend who I know strives to be real and kind and respectful of everyone, she expressed embarrassment over the behavior I described, saying: "A sad testimony to our 'race' -actors!!" I love her humble attitude, and I've seen that same beautiful humility in many other actors. In fact, during the previous days' auditions, I had interviewed almost every actor who came in, asking questions about WHY they wanted to act and what it was that kept them in it. Not one person said a word about fame or getting attention. Instead they would come alive talking about how wonderful it is to get to understand what it would be like to be someone else. What they spoke of, even if they didn't have the word for it, was empathy. I know that from my acting days, and it's something that keeps us writers going too. Empathy is that something that fosters connections that are deeper than surface, and I believe its something that many creative-types thirst for more than the average person--a driving force.

That's why I went on to tell my friend that I think actors are wonderful people... They may be annoying at times, but *anyone* in a state of desperation can fall prey to self-defense mechanisms that are blind to the needs of others. We all have to guard against that. Most actors have a hunger for that "getting inside the skin of another person" which can lead to a very positive sense of empathy. Ah, but that desperation is always lurking... It's complicated, like everything else. I think actors amplify life, both on screen/stage and off. They amplify the good and they amplify the not-so-good. They amplify that which is noble in human beings and that which is base and even downright destructive. It's important for an actor to be able to get into all sorts of characters, and in the process of fighting for those roles that can be so few and far between, they sometimes forget about feeding the "character" that represents them as real-life persons. That is one of my passions when it comes to working with actors--to help them discover the connection between creating characters through tapping into empathy and creating *character* that is truly empathetic--to help them discover how their career can be a ministry to the hearts of their audience and to the people they deal with day-to-day as they learn to be truth-seers, truth-tellers, and truth-be-ers.

Yes, I've been annoyed by the pandering of some actors. But, yes, I can empathize with actors--I've been there and I know what that desperation is like. Those outside of the profession who look at actors as vain and shallow would do well to consider what it would be like to be in a career that requires a person to re-apply for the job over and over and over again, being rejected the majority of the time, sometimes for reasons as silly as wearing the wrong shoe size. It's quite a sacrifice to go through the rollercoaster of emotional highs and lows, of rejection and adoration followed by more rejection, and for what? Is it a selfish endeavor? No, most storytellers, whether it be the writer or the actor or the director or any of the many team-members it takes to make a film, most of these people do what they do because they really want to make a difference in the lives of others. This is the way that they can most effectively communicate, and their desire to communicate is a compulsion that often even overrides their own well-being. For that reason, I would encourage anyone who is judgmental of actors to try on a little empathy. It's something we all could use a bit more of.