Today as rain came down outside, I was sitting with a bunch of actors at a table read for the film I've been cast in, that starts shooting Monday. Unfortunately, three of the actors that are playing three of the larger roles weren't there... But still it was good to meet some of the crew... And most of the cast.
The script, from where it started to where it is now, is much improved, and I'm sure with strong performances and improv on the set, it'll get even stronger. So, that's what I did this morning... Sat around a table, reading. And for the next three weeks, that film will occupy most of my life, as I'm on set every day of the shoot but four.
Oh and I went back to the wardrobe department to be fitted with the new options... And didn't realize I'd be trying on pants while I was there... And oops...
BTW, does anyone else out there think those openings in the front of guy's undershorts are no longer needed? They're just mishaps waiting to happen?
But without missing a beat the conversation between the cute female wardrober and myself continued as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
I remember dancing to your song "Too Legit to Quit" while wearing neon green wristbands and making those silly finger motions in the shape of 2's and L's in front of my hometown basketball crowd for cheerleading camp in elementary school. I thought your songs were the coolest. I'm thinking about quitting acting today. Any chance you can send some inspiration my way (and maybe some "Hammer Pants" too?)
Hey Heeeey,
Stacey
A friend of mine once said, "If I had quit acting when it stopped being fun, I would have quit a long time ago." Being an actor is no picnic. But ask a serious actor what they would do with their lives if they stopped acting, and most of them would have no idea.
I have no idea what I would do if I quit acting. Not a clue. Oh, I have plenty of interests and hobbies, but I can't imagine doing any of them for (gulp) life. The prospect of never doing a play again makes me want to burst into tears. I don't think I could even go to the theatre.
But, I'm having one of those days. I don't have them often, but every now and then something (or a lot of things) just tips the scales and I start imagining what would happen if I quit the business. What would happen if I said, "I'm glad I tried. I didn't completely fail. It's time to move on."? And maybe, that will eventually happen. But would I be relieved? I'm not so sure.
How long should the dreamer keep the dream going? I still can't answer that question for myself. I keep moving forward because of the "what ifs." What if my break is just around the corner? What if all the hard work is just about to pay off? What if work will become less competitive in my 30s? What if I leave acting only to become more unhappy doing something else? What if, what if, what if.
I really do think some comfy Hammer Pants would be just the thing to pick me off the ground and get me dancing again--after a well deserved nap, an attitude adjustment and my once in a blue moon cancer stick, that is.
This post is my Thanksgiving afterthought. Not that I didn't think of it then, or that it's breaking any rules to think of it always including now. I am thankful for a lot of things I forget sometimes.
First off, my family. I am no stranger to dysfunction, believe you me. But I definitely lucked out with two remarkable people as parents. I am one of the lucky few who sincerely gets along great with my in-laws. And my husband is -- well the most awesome human being and sexiest mofo in the universe. I am still madly in love with him and we've been together now for way longer than most couples older than us have been married. And I am also thankful that our dog found us too. She's super sweet. And smooth.
Secondly, our home. Despite the fact that about every other week I curse out the crazy lady and her brats upstairs for stomping on my head, this is the nicest home I've ever inhabited. The first home I've ever officially owned. And at least a few times each week when I walk in from the park, I find myself saying, "Man, I love this place!" And that's pretty sweet. I've lived in a lot of crappy joints in my time.
Thirdly, our health - knock on wood. Between my dad's degenerative illness and our friend's motorcycle accident, I don't need to be reminded of how blessed we are to be up and about, walking, talking, and breathing. It's easy to take for granted. If you're ever injured or sick and you know it's only temporary, remember how crappy you think you feel in that moment, and remind yourself of that when you're healthy again. It makes me realize in another small way how awesome it feels to not be sick. And that's huge.
Fourthly...I often go back to 2004. The only thing I could really afford to do when I finally got home from whatever shitty job I was working at the time was lie on my beat up futon mattress on the floor in my crappy apartment with my crazy roommate who actually was a living example of my nightmare. In retrospect, I am thankful for her too because I think her presence really motivated me to do everything in my power not to end up like her. (She was nuts. I had to talk her out of committing suicide one night.) And I would just write and write and write. And I wrote a plan. A very detailed and thoughtful plan. Long story short...to my utter surprise, amazement, and joy, among other things that eventually fell into place during the most difficult time of my life, I managed to score a legit agent. And not just any agent. Suffice it to say, I couldn't have asked for, hand-picked, or even imagined a better one.
I can think of a bunch of other things to add to my Thanksgiving list, but I think that's enough for this blog. Just like everyone else, I definitely have my ups and downs. And sometimes while focusing so hard on all the things I still want and don't yet have, every once in a while I forget how much I've already got.
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Oh, man… Last week I was forwarded and email from a friend about a show looking for actors. The original email came from a member of a semi-professional company, on behalf of the director. Assuming the play was being done with this company, or independently but with their talent pool – I submit myself figuring it'd be a fun way to end a year which otherwise wasn't very theatrical.
Then, just barely after the director said yes and I said yes, I was asked to use my studio apartment for rehearsals. What? No. Well, OK, maybe – if it's for two or three peeps, but not all seven cast/crew members. There's no way we'd fit. It would be a nightmare.
Then this morning I get a mass email from the director asking everyone the same question because (to paraphrase) "The theatre isn't being helpful and I can't pay for space".
Which… irked me. Bitching about the company that's producing your show to your actors (unless they are also your best friends) is tacky. And many times with such lower-level shows – unless you have an agreement with the production co. or cast stating otherwise – when you accept the role of director, you should be prepared to pay for space if the need arises [See comments below]. I understand this director may be green and that's OK – we all start somewhere – but we hadn't even had a read-through yet and my radar was prickling already. Did I just make a very bad decision in offering to help a production which I (ass)(u)(me)d I knew enough about but didn't really?
The answer to that came swiftly in the email's second to last sentence which revealed the producing theatre company's nefarious identity. This show is not being done independently, nor is it being produced through that highly respected company who forwarded the casting email to my friend (who in turn forwarded it to me)…
How could I have been so stupid?! Ugh, man, why didn't I say, "Oh, by the way – before I say yes, who is producing? Where is this being done???" You can't just assume that no one in their right mind works for this company, because they somehow manage to find a way to thrive – like a virus. A cockroach. A virus-infected cockroach!
So – and this totally sucks to admit – I over-inflated a potential conflict in order to back out. I KNOW. It's terrible. I feel awful. I'm a terrible, awful, stupid person (at the moment).
But imagine how much worse I would have felt having to deal with the crazy shenanigans and doubly awful and terrible people of ABC again? Especially at holiday time when I should be making merry? I'd be so miserable that everyone would end up getting stale candy and refrigerator magnets from the dollar store as Christmas gifts.
HUZZAH! HUZZAH! HUZZAH! I found my digital camera!!! It's been missing since the beginning of August!!! Here's how I found it...amazing how really annoying things can lead to great things! I've been living at the place where my ex usually housesits for the past 2 nights (god bless him) because my entire furnace/heating unit was being replaced in my apartment (Equals, hole in the roof, gas issues, cutting out a section of my wall, etc.) So, the place has been completely unliveable for nearly 3 days now. What do you do when you have a small child and you can't be in your own place? It's major inconvenience. Luckily we're on good terms--so I had a sofa to crash on and experienced a warm house for the first night in a really long time.
Anyway, back to story, this great digital camera I had went missing months and months ago. A major bummer because I take photos with it for this blog and it's how I document my child growing up. Well, I come home today to check on the worker's progress. The job is DONE. However, they had to completely move a bookcase I had secured to the wall--books everywhere--dust... This one piece being moved required me to move everything around in the apartment--small place means configuring, reconfiguring, etc... Anyway, I walk in and THERE on the bookcase (sans books now) is my digital camer and case staring me in the face! I danced around in circles and gave the worker there (who is a really decent chap) a HUGE hug (which made him laugh). Ironically, now I just have to find the cord that allows me to upload my photos onto the computer... It's always something ain't it?
Anyway, just wanted to share that really bright moment in what has been an otherwise pretty horrific week. Horrific= rent due + little fundage= no sleep and little eat. As a parent this is compounded. A struggle for artists--the ones NOT making thousands of dollars a year--coming up with rent. Yes? (Can I hear a resounding "yes" here please so I don't feel like the only one who scrapes by sometimes?)
Well, getting a new heater, finding my new camera, rearranging my house (AGAIN) has caused me to realize I have too much CRAP (mentally and physically). Time to clean house and get it together. Time to reorganize the goals, figure out what it's gonna take to get my SAG card (2008, baby!) and stop scraping by. If anyone has any advice on the quickest way into SAG--I'm all ears. Researching as we speak. (AGAIN).
Money is better than poverty, if only for financial reasons. -Woody Allen
So if you have not heard, the strike is over and Broadway shows return tonight! That is awesome news for the stagehands, the producers, the actors, the crews. It's great news for New York City, for all those restaurants, for all the tourists, too.
My husband had to fill in for this group that was here from San Fran with a couple gigs lined up in the city around Thanksgiving. After battling a horrible cold and finally winning, I was able to make it to their last show. And I was so happy not to miss it because the music was fantastic.
The lead guitar/vocalist is this dude whose name I won't mention because while his music is awesome and his song writing ability is awesome, what I was most surprised and bewildered by was how phenomenally cocky this guy is. And I am not talking about self-confidence. He's really and truly full of himself and not in a funny, joking, or humorous way.
He's been playing around Southern Cali for years, played in various small cafes and on the streets in Europe, and then spent a while in Hawaii where he was eventually discovered by a record producer. Long story short, he was offered a lengthy contract with RCA which isn't a surprise because he's definitely got the talent and could be easily marketable and he's got many radio friendly hits in his growing repertoire.
But he turned it down. We got into this big discussion about the music industry and the internet, I-Tunes, independent labels, blah, blah, blah. To be honest, I was so sauced by the time we started talking about new paradigms that I don't really remember what happened from then on. I remember finding a 20 in my pocket, a brie and pear panini, an almost exploding outdoor heater, and then I woke up the next day in own my bed thankfully.
While I respect that performers want to maintain their artistic integrity, and music contracts are often equivalent to slavery, I think you also have to pay your dues to a certain extent no matter how talented you are. Of course, this issue comes into play for actors as well as musicians, and there's never any clear cut answer. At least that I know of right now.
What was interesting was that while this guy is probably the most conceited guy I've ever met, he was still extremely polite and respectful to others and seemed to be genuinely so. If he was a dick on top of being a cocky bastard, then his talent would be a total waste in my book. So I am curious to see how his road unfolds for him.
It's vitally important to believe in oneself and to have a solid foundation of healthy self-confidence. No doubt. But if you honestly believe you are God's gift to mankind, and the Chosen One, and you put yourself up on such a high pedestal, you can run out of room to grow. And if you're under the impression that you don't need need room to grow, then how can you possibly sustain your craft? Or maybe you really have to be that conceited and full of yourself to "move the universe" in your direction?
My friend at the New Group gave me some comps so I took my husband to go check out "Things We Want," a new play written by Jonathan Marc Sherman, directed by Ethan Hawke.
It's a wonderfully written play. The writing is really great. The set was awesome. And overall, this is definitely a production worth seeing if you're in NYC.
However, I have to say, as my stickler actor-self, I was a bit disappointed and surprised at the lack of attention to detail played by the actors. Alcohol is a big part of the show and it's no small task playing drunk or tipsy. But it's certainly not impossible to play it accurately or well.
When I was still studying acting at the studio, I remember working on physical impediments for months. Whether it was a sprained ankle, a cold, a migraine, blindness, three drinks, completely sauced, a few bumps of coke, a few lines of coke, or high as a kite from smoking a few hits of weed....these are all very specific physical states and requires a certain specificity in order to play convincingly.
After discussing this issue at length with my husband on the ride home, I realized that it's literally been years since I've attended a staged production of a play that blew my socks off. I guess I am tough to please, but seriously, the last time I was blown away was after seeing A View From the Bridge directed by Michael Mayer. Also, Sideman at the Roundabout, and Waiting for Godot at CSC. And those were a long while ago.
Call me crazy, but I feel that if you've got a cast of actors with all these credits and a director whose bio bluntly and concisely states "over 20 years of working in film and theater," I feel that the performance should be close to, if not flawless.
I also realize, however, that most of the work that I've experienced that I'd consider riveting and worth the ticket price involved a serious caliber of talent and maybe it's expecting too much to expect all "professionals" to live up to their standards. I don't know. My acting coach certainly wouldn't agree. His standards were always consistently high. And thank God for that.
Anyway, it's still worth seeing. Despite the laziness in details and some unjustified screaming, again the writing is terrific and the actors do have a lot of very nice moments. The cast is Paul Dano (Little Miss Sunshine), Peter Dinklage (Chronicles of Narnia), Josh Hamilton (Coast of Utopia, This is Our Youth, The House of Yes, Tonight at Noon, et al.) and Zoe Kazan (August and Revolutionary Road).
(no picture today... but there's music posted below for you to listen as you read)
Just when you think something can't get weirder, it does... And then it does again and again and again... Until a van comes to bring you back to the parking lot where you had parked seven hours earlier, and the driver picks up on a shattered self-esteem. "If you knew all of what you would have had to do, would you have said yes?"
Then you get in your hybrid SUV and just by coincidence a friend calls, a friend that used to be a swim wear and lingerie model, a former Miss Oregon... You tell her about your day... About doing monologues straight to camera, with a cop uniform on, without pants on, without a shirt on, without a shirt or pants on... About "dancing" in all of those combinations... Crawling across the floor... Acting like a gyrating idiot on a stripper pole... It getting weirder from there, when they take a hundred still pictures involving a makeup artist and an entire bottle of baby oil. Then, the cherry on top of your day, you overhear a "funny" comment from one camera assistant to another, about your physicality, when they didn't know you had innocently stepped back in the room.
Your Miss Oregon friend guesses exactly what you want to do... You want to hide. You want to crawl into bed. You want to never see another person. You want to drown it all away in a tub. Watch the oil and fifthly feelings all run down the drain. You want to put on the thickest sweater and your largest ski parka. You want to hug someone you completely trust and never let go. And you want to quit what you love, and become a Ski Patrol rescue worker.
It's at this point you miss everyone in your life that's ever loved you, that's ever allowed you to hold on to them tight, that's never wanted anything from you... And that you've trusted with your life, soul, and inner child.
You're thankful to the people that let you talk about your feelings that night, that don't criticize you for feeling like an piece of oiled meat that's been poked and prodded all day long... You know you're being irrational and melodramatic when you explain your feelings and thoughts that you'll never work as an actor again, and because you've been an out of shape stripper who can't dance all day long, you've probably been on your last date too.
You know you were just a clown, that your big shoes and red nose, just happened to be a yellow Speedo, aviators and combat boots for the day. You know you'll work again... You know you'll date again... But feelings and thoughts just pop up.
The pictures the prop guy took on your camera are hard too look at, but you know soon you'll be thankful for them, as well as the video he took. That someday you too will look back on all of it and laugh. That you'll probably post the stuff on YouTube for all your friends too see.
As for the van driver's question... Would I again... Had I known...
Yeah, I probably would. I would have loved to be in better shape, but there are thousands of actors, models, bodybuilders and strippers in better shape... But they went with me because of my unique clowning skills: My combination of skills, talent, looks, and abilities.
Commercial acting is a right of passage for many actors. And it can be a great opportunity. Unfortunately, after a while of knocking yourself out to make audition after audition to play generic consumers smiling blandly, it's easy to swear "never again".
Last week I had an oddly late 7PM audition. Apparently that was to allow every parent on Long Island time to drive their kids in. The scene was crazy. And after waiting a half-hour, I was told I wasn’t right for the role sent for, and to sign in downstairs for more suitable role with "a lot of lines" – thus starting my waiting process over again, surrounded by a whole new group of kiddies with better wardrobes than me.
People were shocked when I got up to leave. "Just stick it out", one actress said, "It's a fun way to make extra money!"
How cute. She thought I wasn't aware of the odds of possibly, maybe being the lucky winner of a mediocre prize (less 10%) - all for the low, low cost of a huge pain in my ass.
The whole scene wasn't fitting right. I felt like a salty fish in a fresh pond, and my acrid emanations were stinking up the joint. I hesitated – hating to disappoint who'd sent me – but finally convinced myself that by leaving I would be gifting the others with a .0000001% better chance of being cast and a speedier wait-time, and that there would be other projects – ones I’d fit better and feel better about (which would give me better odds).
Like yesterday. A chance to play a pseudo-fast food icon in a commercial. Despite having no lines, it sounded fun. I was so enthused, I actually brainstormed about the audition and decided – since I wasn't speaking – to take a risk and chew gum on camera in order to add “character” to my, er, character. And they liked it. “Keep chewing!” I was told.
I don’t hate commercials – I just hate it when it seems more like torture than fun. I'd rather have no lines and be inspired, than a monologue and suffer through the various rings of audition hell.
There are many commercials out there that look like a blast just to even audition for. The Orbit commercial with the cleaned-up dirty talk, and the Kia commercial with the schlumpy guy (no offense to the actor – I’m sure it's more wardrobe-and-make-up than genetic-make-up) who dances through the showroom a la Flashdance.
How much would I love to be in a spot like those!
I enjoyed yesterday's audition and I let the agency know. Hopefully that communication keeps us on track.
I’ll admit that walking away from last week’s audition made me feel guilty – like I wasn’t serious about acting for a living and a pansy about taking my lumps. But I like to think that the more auditions I go on that inspire me – the
better my odds are for landing “a fun way to make some extra money”. And then I can do this for a living.
My friend called me on Tuesday to ask if I'd be interested in seeing the tree being lit at Rockefeller Center the next day. I jumped. We 3 girls made the mistake of meeting at 6:30 for the 7 pm event - duh! - and ended up being directed in circles around the same blocks by the cops. As you can imagine, it was mayhem. I couldn't get over the brave mommies with their infants and toddlers in strollers among the crowds who pushed, pulled, screamed and cursed their way through the streets.
I'd forgotten my camera at home and had bought a disposable one just to capture the moment, and ended up using it to capture the crowded streets. After we'd had enough, we headed west to sip wine and dine at the Playwright's Tavern, where we were seated right in front of a big flat screen TV.
This took me back 12 months when a bunch of us had gone to St. John The Divine Cathedral on Christmas Eve for midnight mass. We had gone early, or so we thought. There were 6 people in front of us when they declared that they were at capacity. We ended up eating a huge dinner at an Italian restaurant at midnight! I'll keep you posted about what happens this time round.
Lesson learned - We'll be back next year and probably take the day off from work to save ourselves a spot by the tree. It is after all, one of those New York moments!
For right now... This is all I'll post. Honestly, I'm not sure I'll post more about it. Probably will, but right now I need a long hot bath. A nap. About 47 layers of clothing. And maybe a hug and time with a therapist.
Remember my recent blog about "actor insecurity"? I wrote about how I get insecure when I act on film as opposed to theatre. The many takes somehow gets processed to me that I'm not "cutting it" or the director isn't happy with my ability, etc. I know, I know, it's not the right attitude. It's actor insecurity.
Well tonight I got an email from the director. I opened it just as the TV was broadcasting the lighting of the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center with a very talented singer named Norm Lewis and a high school choir singing "Oh Holy Night," one of the best, most moving Christmas songs I know. So I actually got teary-eyed reading...
Dear Jim, I wanted to express to you my gratitude for your great work during the shoot of Rosa's Shoes. It was an honor for me to work with someone of your talent. I'm positive our audience will like the doctor's character. The fantasy scene is very funny. It makes a nice contrast. The process was difficult and, at times, very stressful, but we all managed to come up with solutions and do all that we could to ensure that we were able to capture everything that was needed to tell this story. I'm very proud of our work and from the dailies I've seen, I'm positive you will agree that the outcome was worth the challenges. I can't wait to walk in into the editing room. I hope that we have another opportunity to work together again in the future. Please keep me posted of anything you are doing. Take care, Jose Luis
That is just the best, classiest, most generous behavior from any director I've ever worked for.
How many times have you heard people say, "Your agent works for you?" In theory, that is true. Your agent does work for you. So why don't I feel like the CEO running the ship? How often do you feel like you're in the driver's seat and your agent is doing everything to meet your criteria? My guess? Less than 5% of us feel that way at any given point. Sometimes I'm just grateful to have an agent when I know so many wonderfully talented people who can't seem to land representation, through no fault of their own. I prefer to think of my agents as part of my "team," but I have an agent that isn't being a very good team player, and it's incredibly frustrating.
I'm not afraid to leave an agent if the relationship goes south, but I'm also very loyal. If something isn't working, it's time to take a hard look at my auditioning skills and at the way my agent is marketing me. Do I need new headshots? Do I need to take a class? Is it time to schedule a meeting with my agent and figure out if the relationship is working? What can I do to help my agent if auditions are slow?
But none of those things apply to my current frustration. My agent, by all accounts, sings my praises. He sends me out a lot. This agency has clout. And I like my agent personally. But man, did he drop the ball on my last booking.
I can't even re-hash the story it drains me so much, but it all started with a stupid pork commercial. Yeah, pork. You can read all about it in my previous blog, Pasties For Pork!
Long story short, I had to file a SAG claim to get paid for the commercial, not just for making me wear pasties (which was not in the original breakdown) but for improperly downgrading me when I was the only person (read: human) in the commercial.
I'm finally being paid for the commercial, but I still haven't been paid for the pasties issue. I've probably ruined all future work through this ad agency by filing the claim anyway, so I really have nothing to lose by being a hard-ass about the pasties payment. Plus, I firmly believe that it was morally wrong.
Apparently, SAG sent the ad agency a letter stating that they must work out the particulars of the pasties payment either directly with me or my agent. When they called my agent, he told them it wasn't a big deal and that I would drop it. He then called me and suggested I write them a stern letter saying that what they did was "unethical" but that "I release them of responsibility." WHAT?! Why doesn't my agent have my back? Not only did he side with the ad agency, but I may have lost out on a nice payment for the holidays...which also counts towards SAG insurance eligibility...which also counts towards my imaginary pension. I argued with my agent and my concerns went right out the window. I hung up, called SAG and asked them to negotiate the money for me. Why am I acting as my own agent when I have an agent?
I still don't know if the ad agency is going to give it up. They are "discussing," but not too keen on paying since my agent (on my behalf) said that they didn't have to pay. Also, I'm waiting for an angry call from my agent when he finds out that I pursued the issue on my own. That will be a fun conversation.
And that's my musings on agents today. More to come...
The last thing I want to do with this post is make fun of my mother, as a matter of fact, I'm a big fan of hers. Five kids, and none with drug problems as of yet. Though I'm eying up a few pharmaceuticals for a possible a little purple haze to call my very own. I'm kidding, and honestly, don't have a clue if that makes any sense.
"Scuse me while I kiss the sky."
Where the heck am I going with this blog...
Mom, my mom.
So years ago, when I was first considering ending my pharmaceutical sales career to head into New York City to pursue acting full time, my parents thought I was a bit nuts... Leaving loads of cash for complete uncertainty. And who knows what would find me in the bright lights and big city... Homosexuality? Drug use? HIV? Orgies?
I mean, the Big Apple takes lots of bites out of a lot of people, how was she to be sure it wouldn't chew me up and spit me out?
But by the time I made up my tumultuous mind to leave a cushy (legal) drug sales gig in New Haven, both my parents were happy I had finally just made a decision. After all, maybe this was just going to be a passing phase.
Well, as you know, it didn't pass...
I'm sure one or two of you have heard your mothers asking how long you're going to give it a shot. Or perhaps one or two of you have mothers that try to encourage you to think about law school... Or to reconsider med school... Or some other "safe" and "stable" career.
I don't know what year it was, I could probably track it down in my journals if I wanted, but there was one day when I finally just said something to her to the effect of... "This isn't helping... If you want to help here's a script I wrote... Sell this. That would help. Telling me everything else I could do, doesn't help. So please, I know you mean well... But stop."
So, with that, my mother, basically a suburban mom, did just that, she took my script, and she went out to sell it. She wrote a letter to the Paper Mill Playhouse... To seeing if they would read the script, and do it on their stage.
The outcome...
Well, I've never been produced at the Paper Mill Playhouse, and that was the extent of her help... But the great thing was, she never again told me all the wonderful options that were available to me, or asked me how long I was going to continue doing this.
Why do I write about this today...?
Well, the other day, my mom Emails me, wondering if it's okay for her to write Tom Hanks. Do you see where this is going?
The very sweet letter that she had already written tells him about her son (me) and yet another script I wrote. A script with a very strong Pro-Christmas message in it, something she read a few years ago, and which was actually given a staged reading and mini-work-shop here in Los Angeles last December at the Blank.
Before she sent it, she Emailed me to see if was okay if she sent it, and to see if I have his address. Which in itself cracks me up.
My silent reaction was... "Yeah, right, like he's going to read it... He'll probably think I'm a freak for having my mother send a note."
But then I paused, breathed and realized... This is my mom. She's doing exactly what I told her she could do to help ten or so plus years ago... She's kept up her side of the bargain, she hasn't brought up another career, or asked me how long I'm going to give it since that day... And really, so what if Mister Tom Hanks laughs at this? So what if his assistants never show it to him? So what? So what? This, this letter, has very little to do with him, and all to do with me, my mother, my request of her to stop hounding me about other careers, and her willingness to help her son.
So instead of poking fun at the idea, I decided instead to write the following back to her...
"It's very sweet of you. While I think I know the outcome... Really... Who knows how or if he'll respond. If you do send it, I might share it with others. But I think it's incredibly sweet. Thank you for thinking of me."
Enough mushy stuff, time to get back to the drugs and the orgy!
-- Quiche Addict ~ Tom Kiesche
(if you wanna read 'em, the emails from mom are in the continued section and the fact someone thought this video was a good idea cracks me up)
I'm sick of kids. Can we take New York City back for the adults, please? Must every freaking corner in this town now be child oriented?
I was in Massachussetts over the weekend and the DJ on one radio station boasted "lyrics you don't have to be embarrassed about in front of your kids." So the problem is not just limited to New York, either. Why must children dictate everything in our culture?
They've taken over Broadway--every play is about a mermaid or a cartoon character. They've taken over the movie industry--now the movie stars can only get work by being a voice in some animated slop.
Let's reclaim New York City for adults. Bring back the babysitter. And please shut up about Hanna Montana.
I spend a significant chunk of time each day browsing the news online. My favorite place to catch up on what the country is thinking about is Yahoo's Most Popular page. (You may be surprised by what can rank as "most popular" - and a word of caution, sometimes the photos can be too sexy or gory for the office.)
I saw a few articles that have piqued my interest today, and here they are:
First - on the subject of managing your decision-making processes and finding a way to go more with your gut, I saw this article, Less (Information) Is More, from Newsweek.com. Not necessarily revolutionary - but insightful. I think I'm a "maximizer".
I also followed some links on the page that referred me to this article and, it turns out, helping people follow their intuition is a pretty big business. Who'd a thunk it? My former improv teacher always told me I needed to be more trusting of my instincts... I'm tempted to look into this some more, but I have to say - my intuition is telling me this might be a lot of bunk ;)
Next up - an article about One Man Who Gives Thanks Daily. Apparently this professor's last lecture has become world-famous. He was diagnosed with cancer and told he didn't have much time left. I'm embedding the YouTube file here, so you can watch it. It's long. 9+ minutes. I haven't finished watching it yet (something about viewing 10 minutes of YouTube at the office doesn't seem right... ha ha). Some of the article seems a little gooey and cliché-d for my anti-Disney tastes, but one of his philosophies struck a chord with me, due to my weekend attempts at getting myself organized. It is:
"Be prepared. Luck is where preparation meets opportunity."
I hear that. Loud and clear. And despite the cheery, wee coos from the Bad Idea Bears - I will steel myself against temptation and continue this evening with my preparing & organizing.
Lastly - another blogger and actor friend recently listed this great resource on his blog, Script In Hand. The resource is Non-Equity Deputy - a site devoted to sharing information about non-Equity theatres across the country. So you can see what a company is like before you sign the contract and end up sleeping in a lean-to in the middle of a swamp for your next summer stock role.
Or maybe it's just more information to muddy your otherwise highly-effective intuition??? You decide.
I'm Susan Atwood, and that's the news from my office chair. Have a swell afternoon.
This weekend saw another actor's nightmare, this one I woke up remembering far less about... I was me, playing an American Indian. I had grown my hair to have one long black braid. I had frustrating stilled dialog which other characters couldn't understand... And a scene where I beat up three white suburban youths at the foot of the stairs in a tan carpeted living room...
It was being filmed, but strangely it was being attended by a paid audience as well... I couldn't remember my lines after I delivered the final knee to the head of the last kid... The script supervisor wasn't paying attention to her script... And when I found someone with a script they were on the wrong page and my character's name had changed...
What do dreams mean, no freaking idea... But at least everyone clapped after the fight sequence.
