the love that doh love me back

this evening i skipping technique[dance] class to watch a flim@ttff despite hating both the idea+necessity because is 1 of only 2 opportunities and i suspect i performing sunday during the other. the fact that on wednesday i still eh know if/when i performing sunday is a whole 'nother post about a whole 'nother setta fuckery, though, because right now frustration rooted in skipping necessities for someting i cyah technically afford [dance doh pay bills here] because it concern me, all while knowing my [non]career in this place suggests i'll do all this to find meself cut from said flim and thus unconcerned, anyway...
i am an actor, and a good one. i know this, but nobody else in trinbago except the canals+blkbox[+sondu] does because i've had so little opportunity to do so. this is a flim with a script so bad i almost bow out, and didn't only because i needed to make money, and was cast in a small enough role to minimise embarrassment at my involvement...the latter being why i could easily reach+find my wuk left 'pon figurative cuttingroom floor.
i put down, as always, the best wuk i could under circumstances (once i commit to a wuk, i going through hard giving bes' performance, shitty script and all) but in the moment was directed to deliver wha' i consider a way more 1dimensional+basic performance than i come prepared to give; they clearly wanted a 1note evilbitch with no actual character, and demanded i remove all subtlety and attempt@realistic motivation (difficult as it was to find in the 1st damn place) from her terrible, terrible lines (and i mean terrible! even after my suggesting to writer/producer that even a woman who hates women generally wouldn't make fun of someone being gangraped+hospitalised) leaving me to hope their good sense prevailed+led them to cut my scenes for the sake of their movie. because being a decent human being leaves me to hope my 'career' suffers. and i eh even sure if that, or not being cut, worse, with a flim of suspect quality...
but wha' really grinding me is the more+more unshakeable feeling that this is as good as it gets for me as an actor here (was in more plays+films in 10years in d.c. in spite of being an accented outsider). this place rarely, if ever, doing ting that call for the likes of me (hence diablesse diaries; creating my own show/wuk) and the few times it has, other shit get in the way. the 3 instances where it technically on me for refusing a role or not auditioning were casting calls i chose to ignore or offer turned down because my interest in the production couldn' override wha' i knew to be poor choices of creative team, and the heartbreak of getting excited about a potential show then crashing when you hear the director or choreographer's name is almost as upsetting as cast-as-lead-but-eh-perform, like both carnival medea and this love, where directors had hidden agenda and fucked me over for it (to their own detriment because it severely negatively affected the quality of both productions [not just my opinion]; both ended up being shit shows, the former bad enough that we were jealous of the friend who wisely left@intermission!) or moksha, my 1st local flim, which after all the wuk (plentyplenty takes of jump-filled choreo, on sand) still never see a screen, we never see a single frame of footage, and we still eh know why 25years later...
i debate posting about the bullshit sometimes, but eh enough of a bacchanalist, oui, plus too busy trying to make wuk for me to make/art/wuk since this place clearly doh give a shit and is all one me for meself...
walk good