thi.nguyen

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I WON!

moth winner

So I’ve been telling stories around town (check out my progress and others shows I’ve done) and a popular storytelling show I go to is The Moth. It’s an open mic where you have to tell a 5 minute true story on theme.  There’s judges that score each storyteller. The person with the highest score goes to the Grand Slam where 10 winners compete, telling a new 5 minute story on a new theme.

If you want to tell a story, you put your name in the bag and they pull out 10 names for the night. The theme of the night was deadlines. Not only was I called up, (I was the 6th storyteller, usually the 1st storyteller gets judged the hardest because judges have to calibrate their scoring), my story barely made the time constraint, but I also won the night! Whoo! I told a story about getting tickets to a music festival. It was a stressful time and I relived it as I retold that story.

Here’s my certificate! Don’t mind the smudge, it was from a celebratory beer, cheers!

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2016, you a bitch.

So … I got over turning 30 and less than a month after my birthday, I was diagnosed with active tuberculosis. In hindsight, maybe my reluctance to turn 30 was warranted … but then again hindsight is a nagging bitch.  Anyways, because I had active tuberculosis, I was deemed contagious and a hazard to the public. I was put into isolation for a month. Not fun. But what does this have to do with my creative endeavors? Everything.

Isolation gave me an unwanted reprieve from the working grind. I am a social being and to be put in confinement made me sad, especially on the weekends, when I knew all my friends were having fun and going out without me. Facebook’s a real irresistible bitch. Isolation gave me a lot of time to pursue creativity — writing, reading, coloring (indoor solitary activities) but stripped me of any motivation to actually do it. Instead, I found myself watching a lot of television. A lot.

I noticed that a lot of the shows I was watching were created by people marginalized by Hollywood — women and ethnic people. I.E. Broad City, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, Master of None. It is becoming much more apparent to me that my acting career isn’t going to skyrocket from booking 10 second roles on television. It’s going to grow from within. I have to write and create my own content, because the role right for me isn’t going to come from a person unlike me.

Waking up every day in a glass box in a hospital, my experience was surreal. Why are my eyes opened to a day where I’m not even allowed to go outside?  Why am I kept alive?

I believe that everyone is endowed with a gift from above. And one must nourish and put to use that gift in order to serve the world, ultimately fulfilling one’s life purpose. Everyday I’m kept alive to hopefully fulfill my contribution to the world. I don’t know how or when or if I will ever live up to my potential, but while I’m awake and alive, I should try. 

Out of isolation, I started writing and storytelling. I don’t think I’m there yet. I don’t think I’m near fulfilling my purpose or have adequately contributed to society, but I’m on my way.  I’m on my way doing what I’m supposed to be doing. And it feels great. For the past couple of years, I’ve always done a personal assessment at the end of the year and for a long time, I always came out of it feeling so unaccomplished and a failure. That the year was a waste.

2016 sucked. Really, it did. It was a real bitch. I turned 30, I got tuberculosis and Hilary lost the election. But right now at the end of this year, for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like a failure. (Maybe because after finding out it was TB, I can blame all my shortcomings on the TB. Oh, I couldn’t ride that bike NOT because I was out of shape, but because of TB! Oh, that guy rejected me NOT because he didn’t like me, it was the TB! Huzzah!)

Instead of measuring my self-worth based on the roles I have booked (a big fat ZERO), or the amount of money I’ve made through acting (again, a bit fat ZERO — now you see how easy it was to see myself as a failure), I’m measuring my self-worth based on the work I put in to contribute to society (writing, creating, storytelling and sharing everyday = infinity self worth points).

I know that every day I’m kept alive, it’s more time to fulfill my purpose. And when I die, that would mean my life was devoted to bringing about my purpose, or that I had finally succeeded. Either way, I’m gonna be alright. 


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Storytelling

I’m a good storyteller. I am.

I recently finished this storytelling class that I took from the Nerdist and our class show was yesterday. Each person took turns telling their story. It could be whatever we wanted as long as it was compelling, showed a transformation of ourselves (before and after) and was under 8 minutes. The most valuable information I took from this class was that each story has to have a compelling dramatic question and hopefully by the end of your story, you leave the audience satisfied by providing an answer to that compelling dramatic question. My teacher John Flynn was super awesome and gave me really good feedback. I started out good and I only got better.

For the class show, our names were pulled out of a hat and depending when our name was drawn determined when we would tell our stories. Lucky me, I went first. And to my surprise I wasn’t nervous. I usually get mad stage fright, but this time I didn’t. There was a level of excitement, it wasn’t anxiety anymore. And maybe it can be attributed to the fact that I went first so I didn’t have time to stress over it and get nervous and psyche myself out. Or maybe it was because I had prepared this story for 3 weeks now during class. But even with so much preparation, I was scared that the story would lose it’s novelty upon show time. Fortunately, I’m a great storyteller and implemented feedback from my class and teacher during my previous telling of the story into the final telling where it brought out just the right amount of laughs and emotions from the audience. Success.

I actually did an open mic that concentrated on storytelling a few weeks before my class show. It was my first open mic. In that one, I was super nervous. But after getting your named pulled and the audience is waiting for you to come on stage and just do your thing, I had no choice but to move my legs onto that stage and start spitting out a story. I told about a Spanish lover named Alejandro. I killed it and after it, I realized it was actually really fun. I had enjoyed it.  Maybe storytelling can be my niche, my way, my avenue of getting to acting.

When I first started out on this journey to pursue acting, a lot of people thought I had courage, that I was brave to go for a dream. After 4 years with little/no success/progress, some people are now thinking that I’m foolish to continue. Actually one friend told me to quit (but he also came and supported me on my class show — hmmm -shrugs-). Another friend real talked me and kinda discounted all my efforts in the past 4 years. He said it looked like I was just trying a bunch of things and not committing, that I was just trying to get by. His advice was to do one thing, that one avenue and commit to it — be the best at it and that will eventually lead to acting.

I believe that his advice is sound. But I feel the need to defend myself and not let him discount my efforts in the past 4 years. With acting, there are so many paths to get to it. I have been trying different things and not being the best at them because I got to the point where it just didn’t feel right anymore, it just wasn’t fun for me anymore, i.e. Twitch. I tried Twitch for a month and quickly realized that that was not my path because I found gaming to be such a chore when I had to do it consistently. It wasn’t fun anymore, and it wasn’t my avenue. But I’m glad I tried it, because it’s one less thing for me to get through to my actual avenue.

Could storytelling be that avenue? I have no idea. But from the start of it, I like it better than Twitch. Yes, storytelling makes me feel uncomfortable and exposed, but it also gets me excited to figure out a good story and to practice it at an open mic. That first open mic was fun because the audience was so open to listening to my story. I fed off from their reactions and their compliments and it was fun just to reenact a good story from my prolific memory collection. Besides, why not? I’m an awesome storyteller. I am. 


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be like batman

where have i been?

when the new year came around, it came with so many expectations. i had many expectations.  and i guess i didn’t want to write anything down out of fear that those expectations would not be met. some might say to not expect anything. but i’m going to have to disagree with that. not expecting anything allows for mediocrity. i won’t allow that, especially not for myself.

but, instead of setting the bar and aiming to reach it for the new year, i stalled. i distracted myself. i avoided facing my non existent career. i played these old video games that i grew up on. lucasarts games – grim fandango, loom, indiana jones, the dig, etc. (which btw i can’t wait for the revamp of day of tentacle and kings quest, hollaaaa) and though playing these games were enjoyable, i couldn’t help noticing that the reason i love these games so much is because they are so rich in character and story.

i yearn to be part of great storytelling. it’s emotional, it’s vibrant and visceral. it is what motivates me.  but amidst all great storytelling out there, whether it’s through movies, television, books and radio, or even your next door neighbor because everyone has a story, i got insecure. who am i to contribute to great storytelling? i should quit right now because people out there are already doing it and they’re killing it.

if i had any expectations for myself, it was the expectation of not getting any auditions, of not booking anything this year, of perpetuating my non existent career. so fuck it, let’s get out of here, right? let’s make the expectation of my non existent career into a reality. and with that thought process, it came true. i left for viet nam, easily. in the middle of pilot season. i was supposed to go with two other friends, but in the end they couldn’t make it because of work.

although i had a great time in viet nam (when in rome right, #yolo), i couldn’t help but envy the friends that couldn’t make it. they gave up the trip for their career. for something to further their career, their dream. i didn’t have that. because i didn’t expect it for myself.

the other day i was listening to this podcast on thisamericanlife. http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/544/batman. it was about expectations. specifically, the reporters investigated the question of if people’s expectations can change whether a blind man can see. this was a very powerful podcast and i would totally suggest you to listen to it. i mean come on, it’s called “batman”. my takeaway from hearing it was this, (spoiler alert!) yes. people’s expectations of you can alter what you can do. because non blind people expected blind people to be limited, many blind people became helpless. except for this guy they called batman. hahah yes!

how this relates to me? i have to stop expecting myself to lose. non actors expect wannabe actors to fail.  so if people expect us to fail, we will. we have.  look at the odds! or actually, better yet, let’s NOT look at the odds. let’s NOT do this myself! let’s be like batman. to ultimately see without sight.

batman