The Clever Tools.

It's late in the night.  The birds are nearly chirping, and my darling child fitfully sleeps.  For lack of a better phrase, one could say he's "sleeping like a baby."  On the other hand however, I lie awake, burning my midnight oil, ever-waiting for the next, imminent feed.  I'm uncertain if it's my anxiety that keeps me up this night, or the brutal backache that has plagued me of late?  Whatever the reason, my snoring warthog sleeps, and farts unknowing, while I do not!

There has been a troubling something that I haven't honestly expressed, and I'm having to ask myself a few questions.  What exactly, if any, is my objective in writing this blog?  I seem to hear the long echoes of acting teachers past, asking the same thing, over and over, as I aimlessly rambled without a purpose, with little motivation, "Gillian, what is your objective?"  That's just the question.  Do I want to really "go there," or do I want to pretty things up with words that hide my truest thoughts?  That's what I do.  That's what I've done.

For me, it's a matter of control.  Appropriate words and awkward smiles are the clever tools I have used, time and time again, to avoid and mask my vulnerability.  I'm a master at pretending.  I suppose we all are, to some extent.  But, I'm not that same, scared girl.  Things are different now.  I am different now, and I don't desire mediocrity in my life, or in my art. The buck stops here, so to speak, and I want to connect. To you.  To those I love.  To myself too.

So, dear reader, sit back and get prepared.  Honesty is the name of the game and shame does not live here anymore!

Little man is rousing...