For those of you just tuning in, I’m in  the middle of a multi-part blog series called Project: Introspection.  Previously, I discussed the importance of time-budgeting skills.  Read on for the next part in the series.

Have you ever been in a situation where everyone is complaining about something, but not getting off their asses to do something about it?  Have you ever had your inner voice make like Obama and cry “Change!” while others seem to despair and procrastinate in the status quo?

In another vein, have you ever had a brilliant idea that nobody else seems to have thought of?  Have you ever come up with this great backstory for a character without prompting? 

And have you ever just sat on that idea without pursuing it?

What you need is to take the initiative.  Make that change.  Take that idea that you had and make it a reality.  Don’t wait for someone else to bring it up, don’t wait for validation, don’t wait for permission.  Find a way to make it a reality, because sitting around and thinking about it doesn’t make things happen.

When I was in high school, I worked for a company that made underwear bands and bra straps (hey, someone’s gotta do it!).  I worked in the Finishing department, which meant we took the fabric that had been dyed and made sure it was the same shade of blue, purple, green, whatever that Hanes or Fruit of the Loom or whatever wanted.  My job was to run a machine that dyed the fabric slightly different shades.

One of the downsides to these machines was that fabric would often get static charges and stick to the machines, rolling up and getting stuck in the machine.  I’d have to go in and cut out the ruined fabric, re-attach the fabric to the line and start the machine up again.  It wasn’t hard, but on some types of fabric, it was extremely frustrating.

One day, my machine got stuck at least a dozen times in a half-hour, and I was furious.

“Fucking machine!  Goddammit, stop fucking breaking, you shit-faced machine!”  Yes, I was a teenager who swore a lot more than was absolutely necessary.  Finally, I went to the lead operator, Wayne, and I said “Dammit, my machine fucked up again.”  He just chuckled and went over to help me with it.  He just kinda smiled as he worked.  

“Wayne,” I said.  ”Don’t you ever get mad?”

He shook his head.  ”Nope.”

“Why not?”  He looked at me in the eyes and spoke softly.

“Why?  Does the machine care if you get mad?  Doesn’t help.  So why bother?”

That lesson stuck with me for life.  My temper improved dramatically.

This lesson can be applied to us today.  Does theatre care if we sit around and bitch and moan about how it doesn’t work?  No, of course not.  Does theatre care if the government doesn’t give us grants or the difference between Obama’s arts policy and McCain’s?  Does theatre care if we work day jobs or spend 40+ hours per week acting or designing?  No, absolutely not.

But WE care.  And since we care, it’s up to us to make things happen, to make the changes we desire.

All across the theatrosphere, bloggers like Scott Walters, Devilvet, Isaac, Nick, Don and many, many others have recognized that a deficiency exists in the arts, a distinct lack of financial, social and cultural support from the government and the masses at large.  They’re crying for change, for an improvement in the theatre community, calling for passion, organization, community, support, and participation. 

Does this sound familiar?  Do you feel the same way?

Then take the initiative.  Get off your ass and get out there and change things.  Don’t think about what the theatre down the street is doing, think about what YOU’RE doing.  Figure out what problems theatre faces that you personally can affect.  You can’t affect how much money the government will give you, so don’t worry about that.  You can’t affect how many times Shakespeare is performed across the country or affect how many women playwrights exist (unless you are one or want to become one).  Think about what you can do, and then do it.

Early into grad school at college, I still hung out at the theatre department.  We were a small school, so we held auditions on a show-by-show basis.  This one time, however, the department held auditions for the entire semester at once.  Both mainstage shows were cast within days and a horrifying truth was revealed. The directors had cast a few actors in both shows, and in the second show, the double-cast actors were the only drama majors present — the rest of the cast were non-majors.

So did the other 30+ drama majors do?

They sat outside, smoked their cigarettes, and bitched about the situation.

“Wah wah wah,” they cried.  ”We’re here to learn about acting.  How can we act if they don’t cast us?”

“Yeah!” cried another.  ”I pay them so I can learn to be an actor!”

They conveniently ignored the fact that most of the time, real life actors are NOT cast in shows they audition for.

I offered a solution.

“Why don’t you do something yourselves?”

They stared at me as if I were a poisonous snake in their midst.

“What?” one girl said, obviously disdainful of my suggestion.

“Put on a show.  All of you get together and perform a show.  Ask Carl for permission to use the studio theatre, get off your asses, and put on a show yourselves.”

They all rolled their eyes and walked away.

After all, they were here to ACT, not to… do whatever…  it is…  that non-actors…  do in theatre.

I should have let them drown in their naivete, fester in their ignorance.  But then, I was one of them.  I wanted to do something, too.  It just wasn’t fair!

But the more I thought about it, the more my idea made sense.  I went to Carl, the department head, and I said “I realize I’m not a drama student anymore, but there are 30 actors outside bitching about how they don’t have anything to perform now, because McPsycho and Doc didn’t cast them in the two shows this term.  So I would like to request permission to put on a production.  I’d like to give directing a shot, and give these guys a chance to perform.”

He didn’t really say anything; he just handed me a form.

“Fill it out.”

That semester was the birth of my directing passion.  Because I took initiative, I provided acting opportunities for twelve actors, design opportunities for four designers, directing experience for myself, and proved to my peers that getting off your ass and doing something actually works better than sitting around bitching about it.

You got a passion for something that isn’t happening?  You got an idea that you think is interesting?  Don’t sit on it.  Get off your ass and make it a reality.  You owe it to yourself.