Yellow Funk

Sounds like something George Clinton might have written, but no its how I describe spring in Atlanta.  While the pollen is finally clearing after a week and a half, it has certainly been a memorable Yellow Funk this year.

There have been so many similarities this year to a long ago period in my life, and I have found myself reflecting back to those days when I worked at the first coffee shop in Marietta, The Cultured Bean.  Bruce was so far ahead of his time with that.  A classy establishment that would have given the current coffee monopoly a run for the money if it were still around.  Good times.

I too felt cultured by simply being a part of something that was ahead of the wave of coffee enthusiasm that has washed across this country since that time.  It also marked the time that I took a class that changed my life forever:  The Art of Public Speaking.  When I signed up for it, I thought it would just be an easy class to take along with a number of core courses I was taking at the time.  Little did I know that it would stir something within me that would change my view of my own future.

Back in High School I had always dreaded standing up in front of others to do a report or read when asked.  Even to this day it is not my favorite thing to do.  But when I took that class in college something clicked.  I wasn't merely standing in front of others and reading anymore, I was acting.  And the anxiety became a thrill, a rush.  I wanted more.  From that point forward I wanted nothing more than to create characters, to entertain.


I had always been a bit of a ham, albeit an introspective one, but after the Public Speaking class I was a ham with a purpose.  Nicholson and Oldman were my idols and I began consuming their work to try and emulate what they and others of the time were doing.  My coworkers picked up on it and we would act out all sorts of things when there was a lul in business.  Shortly there after a fellow employee introduced me to the sister of one of Atlanta's most famous and beloved movie stars (no name dropping here); she told me that her mother was teaching an acting class and invited me to join.  I did and it was probably one of the best choices I ever made.

It was difficult work, more difficult than I thought it would be, but I loved every minute of it.  Thinking back I remember something funny, funny now but not then.  That was the time before non-drowsy allergy pills and my teacher had a huge dog that I was allergic to, so I would be fighting back sniffles and drowsiness to work on my craft.  Gotta suffer for your art, right?

Just like then, I have been battling allergies, only this time it's been in the form of the dreaded Yellow Funk of spring.  Back then I was excited about acting and the prospect of creating characters.  That feeling waned after several years out in California with little to my credit that actually meant anything to me.  I felt I wasn't getting the opportunities I needed to keep myself invested in my craft.  When I returned to Atlanta I had only one thing in mind: If I couldn't find a role that I wanted, I'd create it for myself.

I began to write and write and write.  I manged to make a few short films during the past decade plus, but more importantly, I found something to supplant the hole that not acting had left.  With acting there is always a hole left inside me after finishing a role.  The same is true with writing.  For me, with writing, I could jump to the next project with no lul, no hole within me that needed to be filled.

During those ten years plus the only acting I had done was in my short films, where most of the responsibility was on me if those films were to be completed.  The roles I chose for myself were what I had always wanted but never had the opportunity to act in.  It was a great deal of fun, but very difficult at the same time.  I now have a deep respect for what goes on behind the camera as well as in front of it.  How Mel Gibson was able to do Braveheart, or Clint Eastwood Grand Torino, I have no idea.

I have been toying with the idea of jumping back into acting for awhile now.  The writing of a novel has a way of quelling those ambitions, though.  I also figured I might wait until I was closer to fifty than thirty, and I still might.  But while on set last week I felt like I was back at the Cultured Bean emulating Jack Nicholson and Gary Oldman, having fun and eager for more.  I didn't have a choice role like I would have liked, but it felt good.  I have such a greater respect for all parts of the process than I use to, so that watching the interaction between artisans had my head swirling, taking mental notes should I jump back in the ring to act or direct.  

But lo and behold it is a new week and the Yellow Funk has given way to the Growing Green.  I have no more time to reminisce and must plant my hopes for the future.  Hopefully, in short or long term they too will eventually grow. Until next time, get out there and make the best of it.  Feed the Need... Feed It!

-aap