It's a straight line between cake and my theatre wounds.
The Week in Selfies: 1/25/21 - 1/31/21
Howdeeee. And…erm…
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I watch a lot of baking competition shows. Like a lot.
And before we get too far, I should specify that the baking competition shows I watch tend to be the more light-hearted of them. Less yelling and world food domination and more handshakes and weird holiday challenges. And sometimes cute, talented children.
Baking competition shows generally feel like they are much lower stakes to me than other reality programs. At the core, people are just trying to make the best cake they can make. They really want to know they are doing a good job. It takes a lot of time and work to be good at something. There can be a lot of history and emotion tied up in the making and presenting of food. And, ultimately, the contestants want to share all the things that go into what is on the plate and know that it can mean something to someone else too.
Yes, I can wax poetic about a baking show. And, yes, I do always cry during them, thank you for asking.
I think my favorite part of these shows is actually the judging. There are dad jokes and snarky back-and-forth with the judges. They may love each other, they may hate each other, we’ll never know and it is. fun. to. watch. The judging is good-natured and often turns into a bit of a teaching moment. A judge will make a joke about the neon green slime mousse and the baker, who had the worst baking day of their lives in the kitchen, will crack a smile. The whole room will have a little laugh. And they’ll all live to make another cream puff.
All that is to say, I miss performing. Like many playwrights, I have been an actor. I stopped pursuing it for many reasons but the actual craft of the thing, the doing of it, I really loved. And still. I really love it. Ten out of ten, would do again.
You read that right. Watching people present something they really care about and being judged on the spot, makes me miss performing. If that seems masochistic…it is. As I have said to friends before, performers and, well, most arts people, crave criticism to a certain degree.
Mostly, I think, I miss the communion of being in that sort of environment. There are rituals and connections that seep into your bones when you are in rooms with people all trying to make something, something good to share. It’s the highest of highs and lowest of lows and they happen in very rapid succession.
Tying judging portions of baking competition shows to my own artistic journey is probably a bit weird. It felt weird when I had this realization the other day. But much like revisiting these selfies from a universally difficult time every week, it also feels a bit healing somehow? Seeing contestants just biff it hardcore and then witnessing the light heartedness and jokes that come after help me rewrite the times where there were no jokes for me. Times when I gave it my heart and soul and stood in front of a group of people who told me I wasn’t good enough. Not whatever I had presented. Me. And after they told me that, I had to find my way to the door, in silence. And then, I had to find my way out of the hole, on my own. I get to imagine that, instead, I walked out that door with baked goods and a wink from the Ace of Cakes.
Some cake always falls over. Or the pate a choux doesn’t rise. Or the buttercream is too grainy. And, I mean, it can be funny. As long as we’re all standing in the room together, laughing about how hard it can be to make something “worthwhile” as a human in this world, it is very funny.
Monday, January 25, 2021
Oooooooo that smell.
Tuesday, January 26, 2021
Wednesday, January 27, 2021
Thursday, January 28, 2021
I got really good at posing by buildings.
Friday, January 29, 2021
Honestly, I don’t totally remember what this zoom was for.
Saturday, January 30, 2021
Getting artsy now.
Sunday, January 31, 2021
Mask inception.
This week, paying subscribers got a play-by-play of my 8th birthday party sleepover. If that sounds intriguing to you, consider becoming a paid subscriber.