It's funny that way...

Present Day.

Not too long ago The Playwright somehow, magically, came across this blog and started reading it. And reached out to me across the sea of worldwide channels and an unexpected friendship was formed. Life is funny that way.

The Playwright and I have been corresponding daily, sharing stories and getting to know each other. The other day I went to Drama Book Shop and I picked up all of his published works so that I could conduct my own little "Playwright's Voice" class, a la grad school. In the Playwright's Voice we were to read a bunch of selected works by one author (I think we had Williams, Pinter and Mamet) and identify the themes that carried throughout. The we were given three scenes to choose two of which to direct. I, of course, chose Williams (Talk to Me Like The Rain and Let Me Listen) and Pinter (Victoria Station).

I've read three of the Playwright's works now and have started to uncover and define the various themes that reoccur throughout. But last night I was struck deeply by one particular passage because a character stood out to me in a way that none of the other's had up to this point. And it got me to thinking. Her name is Helen. She's at first glance a weak soul, lost and wounded and brighter than she thinks and, underneath it all, manipulative. She confronts her husband who has walked out on her:

"Did you ever love and respect me? Did you learn anything from me? Did I give you succor and warmth? What were you thinking when you hid in my chest at night, scared? Were we partners together? Did you ever stop in the middle of the goddamn day and wonder what I was doing or feeling?...I've had the last ten years of my life revealed to me as an absolute disaster..."

And what she, eventually, gets to is that her husband used her to get his greencard and she just figured it out.

And last night, sparked by an intense therapy session, this made me think about this play and beyond because Helen goes on to blackmail her husband.

The Playwright's works are full of people who use and manipulate each other for power or for personal gain, most of the time with skill and cunning. In his worlds, we are all looking out for ourselves. And getting to know him, I don't believe that is his view on the world but what he perceives other people as doing. Maybe I'm wrong. But I don't think so.

All my life, I've had issues with trust. I've had difficulties trusting anyone who wanted to be my friend. Why would they? What do they want from me? As a casting director it was even harder. Actors only want to be my friend because they want a job, I thought. As a director, it was the same thing. I found myself doubting even those who I was closest to from time-to-time. It's why I have a "don't date other people in theatre" rule.

But what I realized last night was, we all want something from someone. Companionship, love, friendship, competition...something. But we have to be willing to give something in return.

I have asked big favors of the Playwright this week. Favors that, in my past, I wouldn't have dared ask for fear of rocking the boat of our blossoming friendship. But he had provided me with a lifeline. I feel seen and heard in a way that I haven't before and it means more to me than he, or anyone can possibly know.

This is my way of saying thanks and trusting that there is no manipulation or ill-intent at hand. Unlike the character's in his plays, I have the ability to look after myself and others simultaneously. And although I'm going through a profound feeling of being stuck in certain circumstances on an almost daily basis, he has give me some greater hope on this island at the end of the world.

Isn't it funny?