Doing a Bit of That Acting and Journaling Shite
It's a bit of a mad life being an actor. Even saying "I'm an actor" feels weird for me to say – like it's something to be ashamed about and yet gives me some form of imposter syndrome.
On the one hand, it feels like a declaration of being middle class and that I should feel guilty that I'm in a position I'm allowed to pursue an art as a craft. I should feel guilt that I'm not doing something deemed more manly, such as a manual labour intensive trade and that I'm not doing something you might consider more vital to society like a doctor or human rights lawyer.
On the other hand, there's an imposter syndrome that arises from not considering myself a "thespian". I'm not someone who particularly spiritually connects with texts or characters. I'm not deftly exploring and navigating Shakespearian subtext, locking myself in a room with solely a manuscript and a pen as I detail and journal every nuance of my interpretation of the character. I'm not living on nothing but an apple a day, whilst sleeping on the streets so I can truly understand what it's like to be a homeless drifter. Right now, I'm not even attending any classes... Oof.
I'm kind of just doing what I've done for the last 38 years of my life. Coasting. That's not to say I don't work hard when I do work and I am spinning many plates. Just off the top of my head I'm doing a restaurant job, medical-roleplay, voiceover artist work, amateur stand-up comedy, martial arts training, and dressing up as a superhero – to entertain kids, not fight crime. However, that variety, whilst often fun and challenging, sometimes feels like a cop-out. By spreading myself thin, I never really have to make a real commitment to any one thing, I never have to engage in focused, deep study and if something doesn't go to plan, I have the excuse that I was giving something else more attention.
At other times, it feels vain. Doing all these things that will often provide me with a level of praise, amusement and attention gives me a comforting dose of dopamine and escapism from the feeling that I should be doing more in what feels like a crumbling society where the rich gain more assets and the poor are having their benefits cut. We're in the western world so caught up in that late-stage capitalism that feels on the precipice of fascism and we'll do anything to amuse and entertain ourselves so as not to be filled with anger and contempt. We're seeing western tax money going to an apartheid state and peaceful protest of said apartheid state being shut down in both Europe and the US and yet the only violent revolution we'll ever be part of only exists in our minds.
The closest I get to wading into politics is sitting, writing detailed arguments with Russian and Israeli bot accounts as to why racism is bad, or by sharing some more learned political analyst breakdown exactly what is happening. This action and behaviour seems a lot like screaming into the void – little more than pointless virtue signalling that achieves little more than putting my career at risk. I've already had a call from my agent who received an email accusing me of being "antisemitic", when in fact I was calling a former IDF member out for using the "antisemitism card" on anyone who has a legitimate criticism of the colonial experiment.
So why am I writing all of this? I'm not sure, but it feels like a moment of clarity. This year has been busy on the acting front. I've been involved with three or so promotional shoots, two docudramas, three student shorts, various voiceover projects and even an immersive theatre production. As I type, I'm invigilating an online exam for doctors hoping to become, or maintain status as a general practitioner, an extension of medical roleplay work, where I normally play a patient with a common ailment such as an anal fissure or a kid with a cough.
Next week, I'll finish the docudrama and hopefully one of the shorts, then prepare for another couple of the immersive theatre performances a week later. Hopefully, when the dust settles, I'll get back to writing and planning a couple of other projects that I've had in my mind for years. Maybe do these things before AI destroys every industry and we're left scratching our head as to what's human made art and what's a robotic imitation that spits out. Maybe before BlackRock and whatever bastard wealth management group owns all the property in the world and we find ourselves propelled into impoverished serfdom that we only choose to end by using a so called human rights lawyer's assisted dying legislation.
Perhaps I'll even figure out what to do to provide any benefit to society other than be a moderately entertaining guy to watch act the fool on stage or on screen.
Here's to the rest of 2025. Might the remaining nine months be good for us all, creatively, spiritually, socially, physically, romantically and familially (word?), before we're under water, or on fire, or some kind of subterranean apartment block with no ventilation or in jail for asking our bureaucratic overlords to stop giving bombs that target children.