Our week in Toronto is over. In my last post I said coming to Toronto was like waking up. Well, leaving feels like dying…and going to hell.
That sounds harsh, but trust me, I have a way with words and that happens to be the best way to describe my feelings right now. First, I was numb for a bit. There was a growing feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. Then it turned into fire. Now I sit at the gate for the flight I was two-and-a-half hours early for and I’m writing up a storm because I refuse to live out my life in Calgary. Writing will be my way out. It will.
The past few days in Toronto have been insane and I’ve learned so much. I’ve also made a ton of friends and made experiences I’ll never forget. It was fun. It also showed me how far I still have to go. It was partially disheartening, but at this point acting is an addiction so either I keep going, or I resign myself to that numb sleep-life I would have without it. Obviously, the latter isn’t really an option for me.
A question I’m always nervous about getting asked is why do I love acting? I don’t know. I don’t remember not loving it. I don’t understand people who don’t love it. Even on my off days when I can’t get through a line, even when I hate what I’m doing with a character or scene, even if I can’t seem to please anyone, I can’t quit. I’ve felt what it’s like to completely lose myself in a character. It’s only happened a few times, but I know I’ll be chasing that high for as long as I can.