The Method to My Madness
The last few weeks have been utterly exhausting in that they’ve been totally normal. I went to the movies, a dance class, a birthday party, a dinner….
I had an average, pre-pandemic schedule.
The pandemic has stripped away my social stamina. What would once have been a casual stop in a series of activities takes hours of mental and emotional preparation.
Unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of added time.
COVID has shown us that what’s here today might be gone tomorrow. Loosened restrictions have traditionally led to fiercer lockdowns, and a pattern of false starts has made every interaction more urgent. We’re cramming in as much as possible before our parents get home and stop the fun.
What, like it’s hard?
The pace of life post-pandemic restrictions is nothing compared to the awkwardness. Social skills are a muscle that none of us have been flexing regularly. I catch myself in various levels of paranoia at every turn. Masklessness has me second-guessing my jawline, my chapped lips, and my breath.
I feel overexposed, both in my face and in my calendar.
To cope, I’m reaching all the way back to 2019. How do I access the person I was back then?
When Will My Reflection Newsfeed Show Who I Am Inside….?
Scrolling through memories on Instagram, and plumper, blonder version of me is laughing at various photographers. She’s carefree, confident, and bare-faced. At times, she’s unrecognizable.
Life behind a screen is already fucking with my sense of self. The persona I have online is much less anxious than the person my husband lives with. I’ve curated an impressive highlight reel that intentionally leaves out the panic attacks, work-from-home posture, and strict bedtime routine.
We all found masks on social media well before we needed to wear them in public.
In the worst of the pandemic, Instagram is the only place you would see me. I holed up in my condo and sent a ‘proof of life’ selfie into the ether every few weeks. Thriving and surviving look oddly similar in a filtered grid.
Now I’m being asked to wear that curated mask in the real world. Acquaintances want to finally hear the story behind the wedding I posted, the book I’ve been sharing, or that cute outfit from months back. It’s time to bring those positive posts into real life.
The stage is set, and the role I’m playing is the most polished version of me.
To prepare, I’m leaning into a popular technique of acting: The Method. The Method aims to connect actors with their psychology, allowing them to more readily access emotions that bridge the gap between them and their character. The theory is that, by getting in touch with yourself, you can then embody someone else.
Method acting is meant to keep you in the moment by blurring the lines of what’s real and what’s fake. You use yourself as a case study into the human psyche, and then apply that to whoever you’re trying to be. As such, I’ve been diving into my photo archives.
In learning how to act like the me I see online, I must first understand why I posted a picture of my butt in those pants. Accessing that deeper plane will fuel how I connect with my butt in the real world. I felt proud then; therefore, I can access that pride now.
I like to call it the Meta Method.
Me after every emotional meltdown
Thirty Seconds to Jail
Actors have long twisted The Method to fit their own needs.
Generally, they use it to warrant dangerous or shitty behaviour. There are several examples of (predominantly) male actors taking the method to unnecessary extremes and abuse. For instance, Nicolas Cage insisted on getting multiple teeth pulled without anesthesia. Dustin Hoffman slapped Meryl Streep before cameras were rolling on Kramer vs. Kramer.
Considering how people act in social media comments, it’s not that surprising. Regular users let their Reddit personas run wild every day. When we’re pretending to be someone else, it gives us the license to be an asshole.
One of the most famous method actors is Jared Leto. As far as I know, he’s never used The Method to play a kind character who cleans up after himself and makes tea. Instead, Leto notoriously sent his Suicide Squad co-stars “gifts” while in character as the Joker. Some of his tokens included a dead pig, a live rat, and used condoms. Somehow, being a “serious artist” affords a level of safety in this disturbing behaviour.
Animal abuser aside, Jared Leto has been on a slimy streak for years. His band, Thirty Seconds to Mars, hosts cult summer camps where fans wear all white and refer to Leto as the Messiah. The whole setup is even creepier when you factor in his pension for underage girls. Multiple teenagers have accused the 50-year-old of sexual assault, some as young as 15. A whole Reddit page is dedicated to sharing stories of his abuse and graphic depictions of non-consensual experiences he’s had with young girls. In 2013 he even used a night in his bed as a contest prize for fans…
None of this deranged behaviour has prevented Jared Leto from staring in the most recent Marvel movie. Morbius was released on April 1st with the tagline: The line between hero and villain will be broken.
A little too on the nose, don’t you think?
Unsurprisingly, Leto caused disruption on-set by refusing to break character for bathroom breaks. The Method was meant to be a way to dive into the psyche of a character, not to wreak havoc for added publicity. No one should be allowed to act like a villain , even if it makes you a better actor. Which, in Leto’s case, it doesn’t seem to be doing.
This tweet says it best:
Walking into a meeting 5 minutes late with an iced coffee
Welcome to the Stage
In reintegrating post-pandemic, I don’t want to completely transform into something new. I want to enhance parts of myself that I already like. The goal is to draw on pieces that have been dormant for years: the self-assured socialite, the partygoer, the booty-popper.
To do that, The Method might be extreme. Besides, I don’t want to take any advice from the likes of Jared Leto. What I’m looking for, is more like an alter ego. An alter ego is a different part of yourself. For example, there’s who you are, and then there’s who you are after four glasses of wine.
Many pop stars lean into alter egos in their career. I Am…Sasha Fierce and The Emancipation of Mimi are studio albums from artists embracing a new part of their identity. And they did it without harassing anyone… *cough* Jared *cough*.
Before the pandemic, I started dancing in heels to tap into a sexier side of me. I wanted to feel hot and learn to shake my ass in stilettos. It was a noble pursuit, but also an intimidating one.
As a beginner, instructors encouraged us to channel famous divas. You do your best Britney hair flip and strut it out to the music. Eventually, that confidence is meant to come from you (or at least an alternative, more sexily-named side of you).
Recently, I’ve jumped into an alter ego that I wasn’t expecting. I woke up one day and found myself in a skin that felt anxious and quiet. Whoever I was before was pushed to the side to make room for this less-confident version of myself. Let’s call her Felicia.
When I strap on my 4-inch dance heels, it’s like sliding back into me. Just Jamie.
My fabulous dance teachers at Your Dance Class have announced a new show in June. One that I’ll be dancing in….Live… In front of actual people. Coincidentally, they’ve called it Alter Ego.
Since signing up, I’ve been reflecting on who my alter ego is. What would I name her? What’s her aesthetic? I wanted to end this article with an introduction to who you will see on stage. I had a lofty goal of doing a character study to close out these thoughts on identity. Truthfully, I don’t know who she is yet. I’m sure YDC will get me there before show day.
I can, however, give a public farewell to the pandemic persona I’ve been living with. It’s time to focus on the person I want to step back out into the world as. Everbody say it with me:
Bye, Felicia.
