Fight The Dawn
An Abstract Legacy

Author: Tyler Boettcher

Ramblings, Truth

A Coward Inside

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Standing here in the dark I created
Stark contrast to what my heart related.
The tear of your stare strikes through to my heart,
As I depart from your care, here apart.

I long for the voice who I gave no choice;
That strong and brave who at first did rejoice,
To belong in a world where dreams came true.
Left with broken seams of what we did lose.

These words just misbehave to a poem that spells out my grave.
I groan here alone as I am forced to atone for the stone that has taken over my heart.
Every stroke on these keys stoke the fire inside as I realize the liar I’ve become.
There is nowhere left to run, as going outside just means fighting everyone.

The struggle in my heart is a cudgel to my brain as I simply refrain from feeling inside.
What more could I dictate that wouldn’t cause more heartache, as it is myself I despise.

Truth

The City of Angels

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The only thing holding me back from becoming an actor is Los Angeles; I hate that city.

On holiday this year I traveled back home to San Diego to see my parents and uncle as is usual. I love San Diego, my birthplace, and every time I go back it has changed; cities are like the people that make them up. Not only has it changed but each time I go back I feel more disconnected to what San Diego was to me. The landscape has changed drastically as has the feel and energy of it all. My memories of what San Diego was are old and stale, for what I remember is an entirely different picture of what currently exists.

The people I knew there have all left and moved on. The places I used to hang out have been changed out for new businesses according to the time and place. The city has continued its own life forward while I have been away in Phoenix and I have grown in my life in Phoenix, being reborn from the ashes of my old self. I’ve noticed this evolving change every time I would go back to visit but it really hit me this time. The last vestiges of memories and nostalgia are simply that, with no concrete structures or monuments to contain them. They live entirely in my own mind now; new generations will not be able to share in them.

San Diego has changed and I have changed. I knew it would never be home again but for the first time there was no recognition of home. If I were to move back it would be as new to me as say moving to New York. The mix of feelings was hard to stomach but at the same time I felt free. I will forever hold memories to a time and place that no longer exists, and can never be resurrected. It’s as beautiful as it is tragic.

For Christmas we drove up to LA to visit my Sister. Los Angeles, the city that I cursed on every drive to and from college. The town I hated and despised and swore I would never ever live in. I imagine God laughing at my childish ridicule knowing full well what was in store for me. For, potentially, this time next year will be when I move to the city of Angels. A fact that has been a brick to my head for the beginning of this year.

My time here in Phoenix is drawing to an end and as with all things that begin to leave us I grasp on desperately. It will be time though. I know it will be time, because with every visit I’ve made to LA this past year it has grown harder and harder to leave. This last visit for the holidays was the hardest. For the first time in my life I felt that I was actually leaving my home of LA, and I haven’t even moved there yet. So strange that a place can grow on one; a complete reversal to my youthful angst.

There is still much work to be done in this last year, or year and a half, in Phoenix and for that I am thankful. I am not ready to leave as of yet, there is still so much I wish to conquer here. Still, the time is drawing near and another milestone in this journey of life must draw to an end to have another milestone begin. It is not the time for reflection as of now but a reassurance to work as hard as I can in this time left—that will pass as quickly as the wind doth go by.

Acting, Truth

Faults In Our Stars

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Everyone expects the shadow of something underneath,
with the current struggle being an obvious deflect through gritted teeth
but the search below is simply an illusion as I am losing the ability to breathe,
beginning to crumble as I bumble on stage, wondering if there is any worth beneath.

This song of my heart is wrong but I only want to belong
To something bigger than myself, but I get triggered,
Body going into rigor as I figure there is no way I can reconfigure
This heart to this mind, so I say I’m fine, while the insides break apart
Realizing that this pain I chain to my soul is lifelong.

Expectations rise as I start to despise the lies that I can now realize.
I am agonized by the truth of being misadvised in my youth.
My uncouth demeanor starts to get meaner as the dreamer in me dies.
I try to rise above the the loss of love inside to resurrect the deject man who died,
Back in that room that became a tomb stealing two sons instead of just one.

I’ve rejected and deflected against any greatness that one could witness,
Trying to destroy this life in a great ploy to get even with the heathen that took my friend.
But that has only let the pain extend and so it’s time to ascend out of this hole,
And end the self-torture I attend, forgiving myself so I can start living and be whole.

Acting, Truth

The Contender

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I’m always at my best when I’m overlooked, when I’m the underdog. I am the unknown contender at heart and it is the essence of who I am. I’ve never been the most talented or one with an aura of charisma. There have always been hurdles and obstacles in my way, things to overcome. My path has always been enshrouded and I have used it to my advantage to strike from.

My memories are filled with the times I have been looked down on and disregarded. Since I was 9 years old I can remember not having the faith of those around me to succeed and succeed I did. That continued on through high school and into college where I entered into a boxing ring against an opponent who was in a weight class above mine. He was known and had the primo coach in his corner. I was a nobody, with a coach in my corner who was also looked down on and disregarded. I remember people telling me that they were scared for me because I obviously should not have been fighting this guy; they didn’t know my heart. I knocked his ass to the ground in the third round and won the fight.

That’s the way it’s always been in my life, at least for the times in which I truly excelled. When the pressure hits I come to life and lately that pressure has not been there. I’ve grown too comfortable in my cocoon of my acting environment. I have reached a place of some success and accomplishment, and moreover praise, and erected a throne out of it. I’ve sat on this high-ground too long. I’ve grown too relaxed. I’ve come to expect compliments and praise. I’ve envisioned myself too much in the limelight.

I must remember that after two years I truly have nothing to show. I’m still at the very beginning. I have many more miles to tread in this contending shade. One day, far in the future, I might peak out again to catch a glimpse of the sun, but then it will always be back to the cold dark road I travel. For in the shadow of defeat is where I truly shine.

Acting, Ramblings, Truth

Boyet Up

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The taste of salt entered my mouth as she began to speak, so familiar a taste in these past couple of days. I witnessed clearly her mouth moving to form the words that surely reached my ears but all I heard was my own growing smile inside my head. Outwardly my head was hung in shame, matched with an emotionless face, but inside I had climbed this bloody pile of dead bodies to ascend to my throne. Yes, I could feel the bitterness and defiance growing in my blood—giving vital warmth to these thoughts that began to form.

Her frail words broke against the vanguard of my attack as I effortlessly parried each counter word. Her wish to affect me was futile and each tactic she employed was dismantled with a growing ease. Worry caught in her throat, a rare display of fear from such a woman, as she turned for assistance. Her ever faithful subject came ambling forth covered with the armour of intuition and armed with the sword of rain, which brandished, wet the ground behind him with each forward slide of his gilded feet. Slack-jawed he spoke, “hush child the grave you dig yourself only grows deeper.”

Ah finally, the moment I had been longing for; the battle with the paramount prodigy. I did not think my smile could widen but I guess I even surprise myself sometimes. My eyes glistened with glee as fire ignited in my core, coursing forth through my arteries to set every nerve on edge. Yes, this grave you speak of shall be deep, very deep, but the deepest grave will still reach closer to heaven than any throne afforded to you in service of her.

Crying out we charged at one another. His steely blade of rain burning into steam against the fire of my breath. Battle was waged as we crossed through into all the world’s stages. Fire was met with ice, open expression with inward reflection, and boisterous reckoning with the soft whisper of death. And then it happened, the moment I had long prepared for. With his guard weakening I unleashed my secret attack: the Boyet. “Oh my little heart,” I declared in ridiculous fashion, and that was that.

My grave was dug and I went to lie in it. The faithful subject returned victorious to his full estate which was everything she promised. You have everything you ever wanted now and when your tears dig down to try and pierce this earth I will not feel them. My grave has been dug so deep; nothing can reach me now.

RICHARD NIXON OUT SON!

Acting, Truth

Good Ole Days

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There is held within an ambition that threatens to take control. A singular focus on an ending point. A dream to chase with reckless abandonment. My head floods with the lifeblood of fame, fortune, and notoriety. I lie awake fantasizing about where I will be in 5, 10…20 years and someday seeing my name up in the bright lights of the city of angels. I envision the journeys I will be embarking on and the accomplishments I will be reveling in.

I wish somebody would have told me, babe
That someday, these will be the good old days.

I visit friends who have gone before and witness the joy and agony over the hustle to get there. I prepare myself for the disillusionment and heartbreak that will follow in my tread. All the while keeping my chin up to keep sight on that small glimmer of hope and faith in this craft and dream. I cast out the doubt that takes a hold within and build up the self-trust that has been beaten down. I break apart and put the pieces of myself back together, only to fall apart all over again. In the nights that my world is viewed through the hazy prisms of my tears I close my eyes to imagine that future day when I will be sitting back with confidence in my achievements. An earned rest and relaxation.

All the love you won’t forget
And all these reckless nights you won’t regret

Then it happens, my perspective shifts, and I get a first hand look into the beauty of the current moment. I live it on stage with another actor in a small theatre found in an unknown city for the arts. I witness first hand the beauty of our art and what we strive for: living moment to moment. I watch my peers go up on stage and struggle to shed their insecurities and lifelong walls they’ve built up to simply play. I see the grand breakthroughs and the embittered defeats each and every night. I have the privilege to watch as unknown stars rise to unseen heights. I partake in performances hidden from the world that share a deeper truth.

I’ve spent so much time recently looking forward to what I imagined would be the good old days. Those days when I would be great. When I would be showered in applause from a full house of 500+, or receiving an award for a critically acclaimed performance. I’ve forgotten the here and now that contains precious moments to be cherished endlessly. For the days I have now are the good ole days. These moments now are the moments to be reveled in and lauded over.

‘Cause someday soon, your whole life’s gonna change
You’ll miss the magic of the good old days

I sit with others as we struggle to just be. I write for three different projects and have barely a minute to spare in my day. I throw away more things than I keep—doubting my work constantly. The work I do put up only produces humiliation. I boil inside and scream with rage alone to myself. I give up. I call it quits. I hustle endlessly, seeming to see no light at the end of the tunnel. I take on too much and fail endlessly.

I also cry tears of happy joy with those I struggle with as we breakthrough our own bullshit. I receive a positive push and praise on a project, and decide to take it to the next step. I release the hold within and a creative spark is forged as I begin to write with ease. I find that I am not alone but surrounded by the greatest support group I could ever imagine. I get back up. I rise, to work again. I create my own light at the end of the tunnel. I’m inspired by those around me. I push onward. With every failure I am learning successfully.

You don’t know what you’ve got
‘Til it goes, ’til it’s gone

Every day we live is a good ole day, especially the days we toil in. These tears we shed and these smiles and laughs we share are the blessed moments. I have not even begun the real hustle, I have just begun the real good ole days. There is much to look forward to, we are never finished in this craft—there is no end to what we do. So I’m not worried about what tomorrow brings. There will be plenty of time to look back later. Here and now there is something special to be had, and I want to capture it.

Good Old Days
Macklemore

Acting

Losing Control

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It is quite a remarkable thing to lose control. Especially when in my normal life I work very hard to retain control over everything. If anything gets a little bit chaotic or discombobulated in my every day life I have to make it right. Life is a journey of creating order out of chaos, combating entropy at every turn, but it is the exact opposite with acting. In acting I want to lose control. I want to get out of my head and into the moment. That is what we strive for in our craft, to lose control; to surprise ourselves. For when we surprise even ourselves, something magical is realized. We come alive.

Last Monday I was working on Dreamer Examines his Pillow with my partner and I very distinctly remember a moment when I came alive. My partner was saying her line and without the normal processing and rigamarole that is actor listening I just simply responded. I responded with such vigor and passion that I cut myself off. I had shocked myself at my reply, and apparently my partner, for her eyes were definitely alight with the response. I had come alive as Tommy, it was surreal. I couldn’t remember cognitively the build up we had to that point but I could feel it within my soul and it’s expression tingling throughout my body.

Unfortunately my response to my shock took me out of it and I tried to anchor back in and continue the scene. It was somewhat successful. However, it was a great feeling to feel alive as the character in that moment. My coach said we would always chase those feelings and now I know why. It’s too easy for me to make acting wrote, which is uninteresting. It’s too easy for me to make acting solely technical, reciting words without life behind them. These words from our great authors are meant to be expressed through characters who are fully alive, and as is the case with real life, life is not fully within our control.

Acting

Selah

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If you don’t share what you have, you’re gonna live a lonely life.
– David Bamberger

It’s been 2 years since I’ve started acting and 1 year since I’ve been writing. I ask my self now, in this moment of selah, this moment of reflection, what have I learned? What have a I achieved? What is next? I have learned that perspective is vital and important.

This past year has been a tumultuous year. I was cast in my first stage production, as well as my first film production. Both of those projects being wildly different experiences and lot of long weekends. I added on to my class repertoire to be a full-time 5 night a week acting student. I started a web series film project with two close friends and stepped up my audition outings. It has been a blur of a past year with learning to deal and manage my new busy lifestyle.

In looking forward to next year it only seems that my life will get busier. I have the opportunity in front of me for this next year to be the busiest and most successful, or for it to be a year of total failure. This dichotomy of possibility has absolutely thrilled me but mainly it has abjectly horrified me. I’m scared. I feel like I am losing my mind. The more I learn the more I feel I don’t know. I feel like I have no idea what acting is. The scariest feeling being that I feel like I don’t have a direction at the moment.

See, every year I have a goal or plan on what I am going to do. I had a goal last year to get out and audition more and I did that. Which, in turn, led to my first two productions. This next year there are a lot of goals for different productions and a goal for getting into a training program abroad. As well there is always the overarching goal of moving out to LA and making the big leap into the professional acting world. These all sound nice in looking forward to this next year but I feel like I’m doing that on very shaky ground. I’m suddenly out of my comfort zone and with that comes the instinctual desire to want to seize control. I want to steer this ship back into that comfort zone but at the same time I still have these goals, dreams, and aspirations. My ego and my soul are locked in battle and so my mind drifts off, trying to stay afloat, with no direction clear as of yet.

This is where perspective comes into play. I’ve been in the trenches too long, not lifting my head to see the greater scope of it all. That singular focus has led me astray and festered all my fears of failure and rejection. I am very much out of my comfort zone. I’m putting myself out there, in this next year, to potentially face failure at every turn. That scares the shit out of me. Yet, I know that I can never go back to my comfort zone. I will never be happy there again. I have to step out.

I went to a premiere of Macbeth up in Flagstaff the other night to see a friend perform. She was magnificent. There were a lot of magnificent actors up there that night. And I could see at times some nerves come out in some, it was an overbooked sold out opener, but even greater than that I could see their eyes alight and alive in the thrill of being up there on stage. Meeting them after the show they were so full of energy and buzz. They were truly alive. It reminded me of why I do this. Why going back to my comfort zone is impossible now. Why I can stand up against the possibility of outright failure in this next year. Because without that risk of failure there is no chance, no opportunity, to take part in the highlights and the thrills our art can afford us.

…who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
– Theodore Roosevelt (The Man in the Arena)

That perspective shift has given me my direction for this year. Nothing risked is nothing gained. This next year will be a year of huge risk taking, that I am sure of. What comes of that, be it abject failure or amazing success, time will tell. Either way I’m going to go for it and will continue to go for it into the next year and the year after that. I can accept the failure. What I cannot accept is living with the regret of never putting it all on the line.

Truth

Quiet Home

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This house is a lot of things. It is cold. The ocean breeze floats up this gentle hill swirling around through this woody enclave before it wistfully leaves to continue on east. It is warm. The villus of the carpet stretch out to sneak in past the gaps of the toes wrapping them in a warm embrace. It is comforting. Passing forth across the threshold I can feel all weight being lifted off my shoulders and a familiar ease enter into my bones. Above all, this house is quiet.

Every time I come to this house it sits quietly on this hill. A deafening silence embraces me through every hallway and room I walk through. I stand out on the balcony to look across the ocean and feel the breeze and it is quiet—still. At the same time this house is alive and noisy. As I sit hear covered in the silence, the walls speak with such volume the numerous memories they hold dear.

I hear the laughter of my childhood, the joyous exclamations of my fortunes and exploits, and the many cries of my pains. It has been many years since all these and still this house echoes them as if they had happened yesterday. As my hands run across these gentle walls ancient memories come back to life, to replay in my mind. It remembers better than I do. I can feel it talking to me, reminding me of all that we shared.

It sits here, steadfast, in this present quiet awaiting me to make a sound. Patiently longing for more memories and moments to be added to its brimming structure. But I have no sound to make anymore, no more memories to share. Others fill this house now. Their laughter, screams of delight, and tears fill this place. Their memories are now embedding themselves in this grand majestic place. Adding on to the memories that laid the foundation of my life…continuing the future so bright.

This house is home. I shall never live in it again but it will always be home.

Acting, Truth

Strength In Our Bones

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Acting is all about finding the vulnerabilities in yourself, the uncomfortable truth we hold so deep within, exposing it, and then running towards it with reckless abandon.

I’ve been on edge as of late: suffering through a bout of depression I haven’t experienced in close to a decade. I hate to admit that because I don’t like acknowledging it, it just doesn’t fit. I haven’t lived a sad or hard life. In fact I’ve lived quite the opposite of a hard life, as I grew up sheltered or in a bubble. I feel like admitting to having depression is a huge disservice to all the people who struggle through such a serious disease in a truer sense. I minimize my own struggles in fear of minimizing something greater.

Not acknowledging it doesn’t get me anywhere though. For in this mode the primary thing that I do is isolate; I push everyone away. It also steals my passion, drive, and love. I become a desolate wasteland of a person: hard and cold. It’s a defense mechanism to save others from myself and to preserve my great insecurities and struggles from seeing the light of day. For how could anyone love or care for me when I cannot do that myself. I have lost belief in myself. This is death to my acting and so I have struggled.

There are many times when the belief in ourselves will fail. Something will hit hard or strike too deep. The nature of this art and business will crush a bit of our souls. It is in these times when a support group goes a long way. To find someone or someones who believe in you. I have countlessly been reminded that no man is an island, and that is true. We are not meant to go at this alone. Grit and determination might carry us far but a support group will see one through to the very end.

I have found that I am the worst judge of myself and often times the worst judge of my potential. As of late I have given into this judge seeing nothing of worth and thus, I’ve found myself sitting in the morose pit of self-loathing. I’ve seen many friends in this pit as well and for now that is OK. We can all chill in this pit for a little—watching others soar above us. But we must know that this is not our lot for long. We will all climb out of this pit, one by one, and take flight into the clear sky above.

And as we chase our stars in this heaven above us, we will carry with us all that we had in the pit and put it on display in a beautiful aurora borealis for others to share in. Make no mistake, acting is brave work. It is demanded of us every time we expose ourselves on stage or in front of a camera. May we remember that it is not the specific grief, pain, or tragedy that defines us but how we survive through it. We are stronger than we know!