Fight The Dawn
An Abstract Legacy

Author: Tyler Boettcher

Acting, Truth

Ugly Truth

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I wish I could sit here and write a happy story. A story that elicits laughter and smiles instead of dread and wistfulness. I wish I could engender feelings of hope, passion, and love, but it would all be a terrible lie. I thought I had come so far in this. Only to realize these walls I had built were merely a prison to trap me inside.

I had never wished to bury you and maybe, truthfully, I never let go. Maybe I cannot ever let go. For I am haunted by these memories to this day. I’ve tried to runaway and forget but they always come back. I’ve tried to put on a smiling facade only to have it come crashing down, again and again.

I hate that I am affected by this. This was so long ago, people should get over these types of things. Is this just misery I carry along with me to make me feel? If it is then I hate it and myself even more. To use you and these memories as a token of grief to carry around makes me utterly sick. The idea was to live on because anything else would not honor you or these memories. But I’m struggling to live on. I’m struggling to find a point in all of this.

My biggest pet peeve is fake people. I despise them and everything they represent. Their paltry existence is an affront and disgrace to life itself. Yet the root of this is in the truth that I feel this only because I despise myself; for I am the greatest fake of them all.

My coach wants to see the artist within me, the truth I hold inside. I have never given that or shown that in class or in any of my work. So she is pushing me to uncover it, as though there was some hidden gem of great value to be found beneath it all. But I fear what she will find, and what will ultimately be exposed, is that I am empty inside. There is no artist alive in me. There is nothing there to behold. Worse is when that final and truthful face is ultimately revealed, all other outer shells and walls will be destroyed. This fragile facade will break down and it will be time to run again.

Yet I will not end the story there because there must be something at this core. It may be bleak, dark, dreary, and ugly, but there is something. There is always truth to be had and mine is no different, greater or lesser, than anyone else’s. We who live on must not keep to what we have lost but grow to what our potential can gain. For there will always be a dawn. So on we row, for there is nowhere else to go.

Ramblings

Dying Dreams

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Dreams begin to die when we start looking down instead of up.

I’ve walked this forest for all my life. I grew up with these sycamores and redwoods, playing in the nurturing shade of their canopies. I made friends with all manner of beasts, being raised like one of their own. We would play in the glittering light that shone down through the thick foliage of our caretakers.

Individual rays would become spotlights on each of us giving rise to all sorts of character creations in a play we would craft from dawn’s curtain rise to dusk’s curtain call. At night the stars would peek through; a nightlight and mother’s eye to watch over us sleeping. Each new day was an exciting foray into the unknown. Where dreams were grasped and realized, if only for a moment, before being whisked away into the wind.

One day silence arose to greet me with dawn’s opening light. My neighbors and family had disappeared from sight. The trees that gave shape and protection to these great works groaned and shriveled, dying from blight. I called and bellowed in fear and fright. There was no response to thwart this new plight. Great towers bloomed with cold delight. Blotting out the sun and stars; leaving in their wake a false and fleeting light. The great expanse of forest was overrun with cold concrete pressed oh so tight.

Man’s gift, as it was thought, was that he was of the stronger. In this his great folly was born for man could be no wronger. The dirt and grime of these machinations is the blood of dying dreams from those who roam here no longer.

Acting

Little Surprises

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There is that awful feeling at times after you have taken a test and are completely convinced that you bombed it, only to find out later you aced it. It’s this weird awareness of your own shortcomings in full knowledge of what is required for perfection. But what is perfection, especially in our craft, in our art?

There is no such thing as perfection in what we do as actors. Often times the shows we feel went horrible were some of the most griping shows to the audience. This was the case for our 4th show of A Few Good Men on Friday night – the 3rd of March. It was a weird show to a number of my cast mates but it has become my favorite show. On stage it might have felt a little off, strange, or weird at times, definitely. The audience might not have been super vocal at every joke or blackout but they were still very much there and engaged and full of energy.

The energy and the action was just different. Which is not a bad thing by any sense. Upon reflection it became my favorite show because a lot of new and different things happened. Not new things of conscious design or planning but happy little accidents, as Bob Ross would call them. I live for those moments; when true and real moments happen on stage that are unexpected. Little things that when picked up and reacted to by the actors coalesce into this great display of truth.

I think the audience was picking up on that as well, whether they were aware of it or not. There wasn’t just segments on stage happening to clap and laugh in between, but a gripping story unfolding before their eyes. They wanted to take it all in and as it snowballed the energy was piqued until the final end when the audience could then react in full. I loved it. It felt weird or strange but it was electrifying. There were so many beautiful moments and new discoveries.

We had two shows yesterday for Saturday March 4th and a lot of my cast-mates feel that our 2pm matinee was our best show. We had a lot of laughs at new places and all throughout, as well as applause after almost every blackout, and audible reactions from members in the audience throughout. It was a great show, I do not deny that, but I respectfully disagree with it being our best show. It was to the book and enjoyable but I feel it missed the fire and nuance that our Friday show had with all its happy little accidents.

Of course I’m not talking about the accidents happening from the stupid wooden fans that keep falling down on stage. Those things are obnoxious and an abhorrence to everything of our craft. Ok, maybe that is a little dramatic. Actually I think I love those fans. While they create absolute chaos and provide no real benefit to our stage, I do get a little joy every time they come crashing down and we have to scramble to get them back up. I might have to rig something to make sure they come down again next week. It just wouldn’t be the same to not have them come down once each week. I love live theatre!

Acting

Opening Weekend

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I really have no words for these past two days. I finally get a break today to contemplate and reflect on these past two days and really I just wish we had shows today as well. It was a blast. It was indescribable, exhilarating, uplifting, and empowering. All I can really say is I am spoiled, in more ways than one.

Opening weekends I was told, do not go as well as they did. Especially our opening night. Opening night was a hit. Everyone was firing on all cylinders. Not one person was off. There were no major hurdles, or technical issues that went on. There were some minor hiccups but I doubt if the audience picked up on them. The show was just great. The audience was full of energy and it made for an amazing opening show. The next two shows we had on Saturday were hits as well. We did have some stage malfunctions in the matinee showing but if anything it only added some more character to a great show.

I am also blessed to be a part of an all star cast in which every person is just a great down to earth person. I have always been warned about working and dealing with other actors who only want to show you up. Who secretly are hoping that you fail so that they can look better, and will upstage you any chance they can get. I have been very blessed so far to not work with such actors, and am so glad with the cast I have to work with on this production. When I am down or off my co-stars don’t trample me to raise themselves higher but lift me up to their level. Which truly is what helps all of us to reach new heights. For we are always stronger in what we can do together than through divisive and catty ploys to stand alone.

I truly wish this was a Broadway premiere with 8 shows a week for a year long run. If only I were so lucky to be involved in something so long as that with this cast and crew. As it is I will greatly cherish and enjoy the three weekends I have with this cast and crew. I already am dreading the end of this and am just trying to focus on next Friday’s show and making the most of that.

For the first time in this production I actually look forward to these shows than getting back into class. That is how it should be I feel. Class is great for down and off times to continue perfecting one’s craft but it is not where we should be held to. I have found myself on this stage and in this production. I am very grateful and humbled by all my fellow cast members, especially my co-stars, who have raised me to new heights and taught me so much. I would not wish for any other stage debut than this one I am a part of now.

Acting, Truth

Eyes Lifted Up

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Well tonight is opening night for my stage debut. I’ve been trying to figure out my feelings for this. Should I be nervous? Should I be excited? I’ve been at a loss to feel something for it. Judging myself for not being nervous or ecstatic or anything in between. I just feel, ready. Ready for it to be over.

Last night was the last dress rehearsal, the last rehearsal period, and I’ll just say it did not go well. In my estimation a train-wreck would have been gobs more interesting. From everyone’s smiles and energy I’m pretty confident I was the only one that felt that way. I went home with the feeling that I was the debbie downer.

All I could see was the negative and of course that was completely in myself. I’m still fighting myself in every moment, still judging every action, every word. I have zero confidence in my ability to perform. Maybe the reason I don’t feel anything for tonight is because in truth I cannot wait for this show to be over so I can get back into class.

I’ve struggled so much with this production, in the aspect that it requires me as an actor to step out and be independent in every aspect of my work. There is no class to take it up in front of, no coach to get feedback from and make adjustments. All the work comes down to me, and I feel that I have failed. I haven’t even opened yet and I feel that I have failed. I have learned that I have no confidence in myself as an actor.

Even further I have no belief in myself as a person, which was all too apparent this week. I buried my Grandma this week and was asked to preside over the service. It was the first funeral I’ve done and I hope the last. I couldn’t feel anything there either. All around me my family was crying and here I was wondering why not a single tear fell down my cheek. Of course I was saddened by her passing and moved and touched by my family’s goodbyes, but inside I couldn’t help but feel a part of me was empty.

Loss was never something easy for me and of course this loss only brought me back to an all too painful loss of over 8 years. Which in turn that loss only reminded me of the loss of a dear love I abandoned 7 years ago. I felt completely alone and missed the love of two people I adored so much. Wounds burst open that I thought I had healed long ago. My heart was broken and I couldn’t sleep; I was sinking down into the depths of misery’s maelstrom.

Yet, this morning I was reminded of the belief in others towards myself. As well that what I’m about to do tonight and this journey that I have embarked on has little to do with just myself. I am a part of something bigger now. I am not alone. This weight I carry, these burdens I shoulder, and these memories that haunt me cannot continue to hold me back. I have to continue moving forward, and while each step may feel like I’m sinking further into quicksand, I have to believe there is solid ground somewhere ahead.

I’ve never been able to believe in myself, always relying on others’ belief in me. I’ve never been able to live for myself, always finding a reason to live in others. It’s long time for that to change. My hope is that in the lights and presence of an audience tonight I can find myself on stage, even if for a brief moment. That I can find some semblance of life and a belief in myself. However this ends, it is merely one part to a much bigger whole, and I cannot exasperate myself over a single grain of sand when there is a whole coast to explore.

Truth

Blank Canvas

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I want to write about nothing. I want to make endless non-sequiturs. I want to write riddles with no answers. I want to vomit forth words in a stream of conscious manner that mean absolutely nothing to no one, not even me, but reflect the inner thoughts and voices of that which cry out endlessly in my mind. Plaguing me as their keeper to pour forth into this illustrious air and take shape of their own accords. I long to make endless references to all sorts of random items and cram them together in a jigsaw puzzle that doesn’t fit together.

They say that the pen is mightier than the sword. They say to use words as a weapon. Then I wish to take this sword and create venomous words that will converge forth to commit seppuku of the mind. To confound and delude this world. Words that will cause glorious cacophony and discordant notes so that no one can appreciate them. I wish to paint on this blank white canvas black blood of which boils up inside of me. Only to take it and burn it so that its use as a fuel is the greatest accomplishment it generates.

I wish to never be great. To never be known. To hide in this blanketing fear of comfort and toil alone, unable to face myself. So that at the end of this life I can look back on this blank white canvas and laugh; laugh at what possibilities might have been. Laugh at my dreams. Laugh at my dilapidated life. Laugh at the futility of any accomplishment ever earned. All while crying inside, knowing that, that blank white canvas would be the reflection of my true self: empty.

For with each stroke of the keyboard each curve of the pen, I face myself.

Truth

Farewell Sweet Matriarch

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Death comes for us all.
A fact I cannot escape
And nothing so easy,
Even when it is natural.

A great Matriarch has departed today
Leaving behind three generations she raised.
A woman of Irish and noble Cherokee blood,
So devout she could chase the devil away.

She was a woman of mighty works;
Where her very presence drove out hunger.
To everyone she always had her kitchen open,
So that for no one could an empty stomach lurk.

Her compassion and love knew no bounds,
Raising as her own those who were not hers.
Always a smile to greet you when you came in,
Laughter and gayness were with her always around.

Farewell sweet Matriarch,
This world grows a little more dark.

May your newfound wings,
Carry you to places unseen.

Acting

We Soar

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These mountains that you are carrying, you were only supposed to climb.
– Najwa Zebian

These past two days was a lot of acting, and if I could have my wish every weekend would be as such. The amount of heart, truth, grit, and unabashed openness that was displayed was breathtaking to watch. There was such beauty to behold in our craft through each individual who went up and contributed their truth and struggle before us all. It was something an outsider might not be able to fully understand, but still something they couldn’t help but be affected by.

I was very much affected by all the work of my peers. It was heavy stuff, to say the least. I have too much pain and suffering that I harbor within me, and to watch my peers share theirs in relation and connection to their characters’ was uplifting. It was a brave and courageous demonstration of the power of what we do as method actors. A revelation that what we experience and hold within ourselves is not isolated to us as individuals but transcends us to humanity as a whole.

Still, I could feel my smallness in the presence of such artistic beauty. It was hard not to shrink and retreat away off alone. We are maybe crazy to put ourselves through as much. Still, we all have our own individual reasons to do so and I cannot imagine a world without our art. It would be tragic indeed.

This morning I could smile earnestly. Driving out of my enshrouded neighborhood I was greeted by an elderly couple all bundled up to go out on their morning walk. I was struck by the sheer simplicity of it. The great opportunity of waking up to this beautiful world to take in this morning and whatever else this glorious new day can offer us. While it might seem like every other day, it can be made into something completely new. The opportunity is just waiting for us to grab a hold of and never let go; Carpe Diem.

There is much tragedy in this world; much pain, suffering and toil. It shows in the pieces and work that is part of our craft. Yet in every great tragedy there are great heroes and greater stories of triumph. While this past weekend carried a lot of tragic weight in the work that was being presented I feel I would be remiss to not focus on the growth, breakthroughs, and triumphs of my fellow actors. We have shed aspects of ourselves to climb to new heights and the view is striking. It is sincerely humbling.

May we all take our place amidst the stars
Not those of sidewalk fame or vanity,
But those whose light does shine out from darkness
To be a guide for inspired dreamers.

May the giants before us we stand on
Be magnified by what we can now add.
May these peaks we have courageously climbed
Turn to plateaus for others to build on.

Truth

King With No Crown

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I’m a King with no Kingdom,
A Royal Priest with no Temple,
A General with no Army,
A Dreamer with no Dreams.

Lost in the cacophony of worldly toils
My heart begins to fail one beat at a time.
Searching for any beacon of hope to light my way,
Only to turn back towards darkness once found.

An insider who sits on the outside looking in,
Denying every pleasure and truth from one’s self.
My heart has found reason to smile again,
So I grind it to ash so it can hold no flame.

There will be no joy in these dull bones,
To bring forth a fountain of life again.
From which such a spring only arises,
Potential for it to be taken again.

Acting, Truth

To Run Away Or Not To Run Away

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One of the hardest decisions you’ll ever face in life
is choosing whether to walk away or try harder.
-Ziad K. Abdelnour

My natural instinct is to run. Over the years I have become really good at running away. Traveling to new places and making new friends doesn’t sound so bad until it’s put into perspective with the past I’ve left behind. A past strewn with fears and failures left behind in a frantic attempt to live a better life by actively ignoring them.

Yet the path would always come back full circle and I would be running off again. Three years ago I made the hardest decision of my life, deciding to run headlong into my problems rather than away from them. It sucked; I broke. In time I was able to rebuild. What arose from those ashes wasn’t some great bulwark of a man, but rather a man conscious of his faults and failures. A man who chooses to love himself despite himself. This isn’t an easy thing for me and gets tested constantly.

This is one of those times. Lately in my acting I’ve felt like running away. This past month has been difficult. I feel at arms length; disassociated with my work, with myself. Negative thoughts engulf me as doubt creeps in from all sides. There are so many things associated with this or at cause here. I don’t even know where to begin or how to decipher them. The only thing I do know is there is nowhere else to go.

The prime directive being to kill any inflated dream of myself and focus on the work at hand. I talk about this a lot and really it’s just a humbling thing. It’s a comfort but it’s also a reality check. I’m tired of fleetingly flying from dream to dream, chasing ghosts of myself. I’m tired of giving up. I want to give up so bad right now, which makes me want to try all the harder. I have to stop focusing on an end result and being upset that it’s not instantly achieved.

There is much work ahead to be done and that is my current focus. As well as enjoying this journey of trying harder in spite of how much I want to run away. This is not an easy task, but anything worth doing is not necessarily easy.