Thursday 22 December 2011

Late Thanksgivings.

I suppose I've been putting off writing another one of these for various reasons....
The idea of expending all the energy it takes to clearly describe one's thoughts is intimidating.
There always seem to be too many ideas to put down all at once.
The inspiration to write never coincides with a day that I have time to actually do so...
And so on and so forth.

I've decided to break this habit by seizing this current flicker of creativity and wrestling it deftly to the ground without a shadow of hesitation. I may have checked my facebook 4 times and spent 10 minutes carefully selecting the perfect blogging soundtrack before executing this swift  manoeuvre...but the point is, after a 3 month hiatus, I'm writing again.

Hoorah.

Anyways, despite my slightly flippant introduction, the point that I would like to wax poetical on is actually quite a genuine one. If you were expecting something cynical, stop reading now.

I recently was fortunate enough to have my mother and youngest sister come to visit me for a week. They had a really lovely trip that they seemed to thoroughly enjoy, and I think that we accomplished everything that they wanted to by being here with me. Predictably, as soon as I had seen them off to the airport and stepped back into my apartment, I was immediately struck by that leaden hammer of heartache that pounds home whenever I have to say goodbye to my family. However this time, I felt a new feeling creep to the surface.

Regret.

I am blessed to be able to lead the life that I do in New York, but it comes with the hefty price of being away from my family eleven months out of twelve. While separated from them, I am constantly aware of the effects that this distance has on both them and me, yet once reunited, it suddenly becomes easy to  take their presence for granted.

I believe that the crux of this issue is  directly applicable to my life on an even broader spectrum. How often do I waltz through experiences and opportunities in a daze, only afterwards realizing what I have missed?  It seems as though my hindsight is consistently sharper than the eyes I use every day. I waste so much time taking things for granted while they happen, and then regretting afterwards that I did not make the most of them when they did. In a fast-paced life style, the moments of clarity that allow me to really take a minute and be grateful and joyful for what I have are far and few between.

When those moments do come however, they crash over me like an icy wave, drenching me with an ocean of euphoria and  gratitude. I had one of those moments yesterday, as I sat in my red plush seat at the August Wilson Theatre, the first strains of Jersey Boys tumbling towards me from the stage. Next to me were two of my favourite people in the world. In that moment, I was overwhelmed by a feeling of happiness and sincere appreciation so intense that it brought tears to my eyes. In that split second, I was not taking anything for granted.

I don't know how to allow these flashes of clear-sightedness to come more often.
I wish that I did.
I wish that I could take the feeling that I had in the theatre with my mum and sister and never let it go. 
I wish that I could savour every moment of a life that is filled with people who I adore, in a place that inspires me on an almost daily basis.

I'm sure that if I could, I would be a much less sarcastic person...


Until next time reader(s).



Sunday 28 August 2011

Lazy Days

Before I properly introduce myself, let me first direct your attention to the right. 
There you will find a picture of me holding a briefcase.

I love briefcases. 
I wish I carried one.

I feel a briefcase conveys a an air of seriousness and professionalism that I would love to be associated with. But since I'm an actor and not an accountant, I don't really have any important papers and therefore have no need for one. Instead, I thought it would be clever to take a picture holding a briefcase with a slightly bemused smile on my face. I think this is a nice little metaphor for my personality and subsequently, this blog.
 Ok, I just had a sudden realization that I have used the word briefcase four times (well five now) in the last 8 sentences and haven't even told you who I am or what I'm about. Don't panic. I'm coming to that.

My name is Aidan Sank. I am 5'10" though when I slouch it's more like 5'9". 
I'm Jewish and am very interested in being well-dressed.  (That was a reference to my blog title in case you didn't catch it)
I was born in South Surrey, BC. and moved to New York when I was 17 years old to attend Circle in the Square Theatre School, but I'm done with that now. At present, I'm trying to wade through the various paradoxes and insecurities that make up a young actor's mind, while looking for employment.

Yes, I know I'm not the only one.

A friend of mine writes a blog, and  after reading hers for over a year now, I realized that I might enjoy having one as both a creative outlet and a place to work through some things aloud. 
Well, sort of aloud...
I'm also hoping that writing about my life and letting other people read what I wrote might eventually encourage me to stop censoring myself. (The latter half of that sentence was typed after I spent 8 minutes looking at the last 3 paragraphs and wondering whether or not I should just scrap them all). So it's clear that this is quite necessary.

That being said, I'm not a fan of self-indulgence, especially in acting and writing. So I'm going to try to stray away from that area. Stop me if I start drifting back.

I recently had a rather perturbing experience at the airport that I would like to share, in hopes that you will take lesson from my mistakes. Though let's be honest, you probably wont.

A few days a go, I returned from a 3 week hiatus in Vancouver. As per usual, I found it very hard to leave my family, but as I stepped off the plane at JFK, I knew that once I could exit the airport into the acrid New York air, I would once again feel at home. All I had to do was clear customs.
Now for all you blissfully oblivious Americans, let me let you in on a little secret. Re-entering your country is a terrifying experience. There is always the fear that we will not be allowed in; a very unsettling thought when you consider hopping back on that plane, and travelling all the way back to Vancouver to sort out your papers and hopefully try again.

Back to the airport.
My room mate (a fellow Canadian) and I were right in the front of the line at customs and she stepped up to the counter first.
In her left hand she carried her passport and gently cradled in the crook of her right arm was a clean little dossier filled with copies of her financial documents, I-20 form and what I can only assume were letters confirming her legitimacy.
The border guard gave her a quick look up and down, stamps her papers, raises an eyebrow and says:"Well done."
(Side-bar: this was her first time entering the US as a student.)
Exit self-satisfied room mate.
Enter train wreck.

Aidan steps up to the counter, dark curly hair bouncing slightly in the breeze from the air conditioner.


"Passport?"
(Aidan hands it over)

"I-20 form?"
(Aidan fumbles in his slightly smaller, slightly less professional dossier)

"It's this one right?"
(Border guard gives Aidan a look of sheer disgust)

"Yes. It is."
(Border guard looks form up and down)

"So you're done school?"

"Yes."

"And what are you doing now?"

"Well I'm auditioning and working with the school and generally trying to get a career going!"
(He says cheerfully, not realizing that he was already doomed.)

"Was working here mandatory?"

"No...?"

"So you could have gone back to Canada...."
(A smaller flutter of anxiety tickles Aidan's diaphragm)

"Ummmm..."

"Because what I'm seeing here, is that your document is outdated, NO WHERE on it does it say that you are on a work-study, and I'm a little confused as to what you're doing here."
(A larger wave of panic washes over Aidan)

"It's outdated? But it shouldn't be...Maybe I brought the wrong form? OH NO!!!!  I must have mixed them up!!!! The correct form must be in my apartment, this  is one is from last year!"
(Aidan looks at the form and sees that he had indeed brought the one from 2010 instead of 2011.)

(Aidan looks up at the Border Guard anxiously)

(Border guard looks at Aidan, stony faced.)

"Well it seems to me that there is no real reason for you to be in this country, and though you do say that you have the proper documents I don't see them here. Therefore, they may as well not exist. So I don't see any reason why I should let you through."
(For the first time in his life, Aidan is completely speechless)


Lucky for me, after sending me over to the office with all the other miscreants, the nice lady at the counter let me through into this wonderful country of freedom and democracy, where I, like millions of other aliens, mexicans and bosnians alike, could live and work for the pursuit of happiness.

The only two possible explanations for my approved re-entry are 1) It was a miracle or 2) I have a trusting face.
Honestly, it was probably a combination for the two.

"But Aidan, you haven't explained to us what the moral of story is!"

Well let me tell you kids.

I consider myself to be a hard worker. But by the same token, I also realize that I have never worked to my full potential. That makes me lazy and laziness gets me into these sort of situations more often than I would like. (Thank G-d I have a charming smile full of youthful exuberance that gets me out of trouble. Oh,  and an abundance of modesty... I have that too.)

By the same token, I was asked by one of my acting teachers last March to do some writing on why I thought I was lazy, and give it to her to read.
I still haven't done it.
So I decided I would make laziness the theme of this week's blog, in order to relieve myself of some of my guilt, and to perhaps jumpstart my work ethic. This year is going to be a tough one, being the first one out of school and the first time in my life that I really will have no one peering over my shoulder to make sure that I am on task.
I'm not quite sure why I have been relatively lazy up to this point in my life, but I am determined to put a stop to it. I am convinced that my level of success will be in direct correlation with the amount of hard work that is applied. Therefore, from here on in, new work patterns need to arise and I must be consistently on task so that I can manifest the type of career and life that I would like to have. I do believe that if you want something bad enough, and you're willing to work hard enough for it, you eventually will have it. So let the work begin.

Just call me Aidan "Busy Bee" Sank I suppose.
Or don't.
But you can think of me as a busy bee if you'd like.
Because I'll be working like one.

That's about all for now.
Until next time, readers(s).