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.
The highlighted, blue text contains all kinds of links to some websites that offer interesting, thorough, or other kinds of research on all the candidates--or some were just for fun! Feel free to click and browse. Voila! Insta-research.
So, tonight I turned my attention to our upcoming Presidential Election. (Be warned, this is what I think and I'm not apologizing for it.) Wondering who was where in the polls, who was saying what, who the heck should I vote for. I firmly believe that the person steering the ship sets the tone. Which is why I belong to the church I belong to, it's why I belong to the theatre company I belong to, it's the biggest decision maker in where I send my daughter to school, daycare, etc. It is very important who captains the ship. It sets the tone for the trip, the work environment, the nation... Gee, I wonder why we're in the hornet's nest of foreign DISASTER that we're in now. And with that line, I've given away the fact that I line up with the donkeys. Asses if you wanna call us that. Sticks and stones...yada yada.
So, I also noticed while doing my research that it's easier to find out who is beating whom in the polls rather than what the hell whomever stands for. Annoying. I could give a rat's pooter right now who is ahead. What I want to know is: why the heck should I vote for ya? I stumbled across this thing calledThe Straw Poll. Huh?! So, I took the little quiz. It's supposed to tell you--based on how you answer questions it throws atcha--who your "ideal candidate" is. I'm very curious who's backing this little straw poll...the source. There's always a source and you can usually find it if you trace the money trail. And in our capitalistic world, there's always a money trail. That, I haven't researched yet. I'm still too busy laughing about my results.
It's not that I think the results are off...in fact they're probably spot on. Initially I had been really following John Edwards' campaign. He seems the most level headed and moderate of the Democrats and I think he has a good family underneath him. He's also been pretty visible in California. I've received a lot of information and "accesibility" to his campaign which makes me feel like he's putting himself out there in a positive way. The only thing I've been able to find out about Barak Obama is that he's black. There's more out there on him, obviously, but a fair amount of it is hiding underneath the "race card". Doesn't inspire confidence, sorry. He seems like a nice man, though. So, what did the Straw Poll say?
We think your ideal presidential candidate is Hillary Clinton.
Hillary Clinton.
You may have heard of her husband.
I laughed so hard I almost woke my daughter up. Just really fuckin funny to me, that tagline: You may have heard of her husband. Still laughing... I was a Clinton supporter, though I was youngish and not really into politics all that much at the time that he was in office. Until I started voting, I didn't pay much attention. Now, I'm paying attention.
Anyway. I'd have to say, after doing more reading and looking at the polls I think the presidential ticket I want to see is a Clinton-Edwards ticket. The reason I didn't support Hillary as much before was because I was worried she wouldn't win and I couldn't bear to invest energy and heart into another losing candidate. Is that sad or what? However, I really have come to believe she is the best choice for our country and OUR WORLD. We have to think outside the lines of our own territory. What is good for the greater good. Who has a decent foreign policy this time around? Here's my advice, whatever your views: Consider that we set the tone for the world too. And by World that includes homosexuals, the disabled, other cultures, the poor, the...
Annnnndddd...I've lost the Republicans... Okay, so, maybe Hillary is polarizing to some.
To those of you who want to own your own automatic weapons and not pay taxes, like ever, or have a say in who marries whom--or just like to play with 'the good 'ol boys'--yeah I get that she could be polarizing to you. She has a vagina after all. That alone is enough to freak out some of you. C'mon y'all, can we be past this yet? I would like to see some feminine energy steering the ship this go-around. Maybe this time we won't play cowboys and indians and end up in some tar-pit.
For example, I know taxes suck but I pay my share AND they help my child and I receive extremely necessary healthcare; and my PASTOR is gay and the best captain of a spiritual and artistic ship I've ever met or worked under--he should be able to get married if he damn well feels the inkling! Oh and could we MAYBE have less war, please? Maybe I'll put that on my Christmas list. The more I think about it and read about it the more I'd like Hillary Clinton (back) in office. Oh--and you may have heard of her husband.
Laughing all night...
(Click on some of my blue words--and you might too!)
--Evelyn White
P.S. If Women Ruled The World is one of the songs in YoHoHO A Pirate's Christmas...come out and see it!
Since I stayed in town for Thanksgiving, I figured I'd have three days to organize myself and clean the apartment so I'll be ready to face the world of acting and the holidays.
Well, here I am, 7 hours left to my vacation and I've only just begun. So frustrating. Living in this city means living in small spaces, and small spaces means... argh. I've been a minimalist since college - since realizing that owning stuff means taking care of it and packing it and unpacking it all whenever you move. Helping a friend after his apartment burned down our Junior year solidified this way of life for me - you learn what's important and what's just kindling.
Which, funny enough, is another thing sort of touched on by Jim Henson. Ever see Labyrinth? The scene where Sarah is hallucinating/dreaming that she's back home, and the Goblin King (David Bowie in an obscenely tight pair of leggings) tries to slow her down by having some junk-pile woman come in and heap cherished childhood item after item onto her until she's too tied down to want to continue her quest? Not sure if he was aiming to teach a lesson about clutter - but that's how I see it.
But anyway, the more time you spend in a place - no matter how small - crap accumulates. And, despite being proud of my purging skills, I have to say that I feel smothered right now. Trying to clean and organize with too much crap and not enough space for it (I'm one of the battle-weary soldiers of the No Closet War) is like one of those puzzles with the sliding squares: in order to get it all in place you have to move this here in order to move that there, then move the first thing back and another thing over, then move the first thing over again...
Feel me?
So, it's Sunday and even though I've cleaned my bathroom, done laundry, grocery shopped, decorated for Christmas, spent too much money at the dollar store to head off future problems like the rubber spatula debacle (but what's the one thing they didn't have? you guessed it!), and taken out the trash... my kitchen table is still swamped, stacks of papers sit everywhere, I'm mired in guilt about spending, and I have my very first chicken roasting in my New York version of the Easy Bake oven.
I'm even making vegetable stock. I blame it on the Christmas music.
OK. I have to continue the efforts. I still have a few hours left to sweep and glue headshots and resumes and write those damned cover letters from last week's crop of Back Stage postings! I can do it!!! Here I come!!!!
Just gotta keep my hands off that beer in the fridge, and everything should be juuuust fine...
I'm back from the Midwest and hope that everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving, whether you celebrated with family, friends or rocked it by yourself. A friend stayed at my place while I was gone and what do you know? My cat is now sporting the cutest equal opportunity holiday collar complete with a menorah, a sprig of holly, and an unstoppable tinkling bell and there is a Chinese version of the magazine More on my coffee table. I love the holidays. I love coming home to new things. The Bengals are winning today. My shows open next week. The weather outside doesn't require a winter coat. Everything is rosy, except for the things that aren't.
Let's talk about agents. One of my favorite topics. The holidays are upon on, so what the hell do you get your agents without breaking your bank? Is it horrible that I don't want to give a few of my agents anything? I know some agents who hold grudges against clients that don't gift them (or gift them well) for the holidays. I usually stop by my agencies after the New Year to give a gift of "thanks for your hard work this year and here's to another year of prosperity and creativity." That way, I avoid any awkwardness regarding religious beliefs and general holiday madness. Also, I think it's nice to start the the new year with a few minutes of good face time with the people that submit you for work.
In case you don't know this, agents universally say that they DO NOT want food gifts. They are leery of homemade foods and overwhelmed by sugary treats from everyone. They will throw them away. My favorite agent gifts were beautiful blooming orchids for their offices. Once, I gave an agent a gift certificate to the hot-spot movie theatre, but I've since been told by friends that it wasn't one of my brightest ideas. This year, I'm thinking nice gift bags of higher-end tea...??? What do you think?
Should the size of your agents gift be directly related to how much money you earned through the agency last year?
Are "office gifts" appropriate? Like a nice fancy office-y plant? Because I have three agents at one office that all do the same thing and individual gifts get pricey.
And what about the assistants? Usually, I give the assistant a nice, but slightly smaller gift than my agent. Last year, I didn't give a gift to one of my agent's assistants because this particular person is such a little bee-otch and does nothing to help me feel good about myself or the agency. Why reward that? But on the other hand, if I get the assistant a gift this year, will this person suddenly take a liking to me? Or maybe the assistant is still holding my non-gift against me from last year!
Ahhhhh...do you see how maddening this is? And how it can distort the whole spirit of the season if I let it get out of hand?
This week, I'm going to be blogging a lot about agents. Lots going on. Lots to think about. Gifts are the least of my worries!
Fickle Fickle Woman, am I. Tonight, finished our 3rd Preview and got home BEFORE 11:00pm. I hardly know what to do with myself. You'd think I'd sleep...but I've gone so long without it I'm not sure I know how to do that anymore. You'd think I'd be happy about being home so early, right? Well, tonight I had a bit of a revelation. Most of me prefers to be back at the theatre around people, rather than home alone. I think sometimes I make myself insanely busy just so I don't have to spend time by myself. Rather, pathetic? Well, I'm a natural extrovert and am very happy being around people, with people. It's just what I do. And when I am home I'm used to having a toddler underfoot or plastered to my hip.
So, on these semi-rare eves when I'm alone...the silence just seems so LOUD. Like, suddenly, I'm the only person alive. Until the neighbors start blaring music or hammering or whatnot...though oddly those are welcome and comforting sounds too (unless they're doing one of their 50+ people-talking-right-outside-my bedroom-window-parties...that makes me want to kill them).
I went home a few weeks ago and realized that I love the country and the wide landscape and miss it often, but I'm not sure I like country nights...alone. Thinking about this people vs. solitary thing, took me back to that trip. One night I stayed late at a friends' house. She lives way, way, WAY out in the country. Out by an abandoned refinery or something steel-like and creepy on a dirt road just off a dirt road, off another dirt road...at the very end. In the daytime it's cheerful and quaint and homey. At night...that road is misty and black-dark, edged with cornfields now raked and broken. Haunting...very circa Children Of The Corn. It's also not an area I'm very familiar with because she just moved there. Driving home alone at 1:00 in the morning on that road really creeped me out. And I just prayed I wouldn't get lost because I had very little gas left in the tank. Thin fingers of fog seducing my headlights into worthless rays of bleary light....the flash of jittery deer across the road--I barely missed.... none of it reassuring. I have to say...I am not a fan of the dark; the black-night dark of country roads late at night. If I'm with someone and we're around the warmth of a fire...then that's better.
However, have I come to terms with living in the city? There's people everywhere and for the most part I find that reassuring. There ARE exceptions. Days ago, a man got off a bus on my block and looked like a very strung-out hitchhiker who had been long on the road...high as a kite...head bobbling like it wasn't even attached, eyes sunken and aglow. Over-friendly, too boot, but unable to even verbalize. Frightening. I was walking calmly with Cricket trying to pass him (I hadn't noticed him until he was nearly upon us) and suddenly: thin fingers reached out and slowly grazed the entire side of my body, lingering for a second on my ass and then he SMILED his high-as-a-kite smile. I nearly threw up. It took all my self-control to keep walking forward and chattering cheerfully to my daughter as though nothing had happened.
Sometimes, I would give my left arm to be built like a biker dyke and mean as hell. You men don't have these problems, I'm guessing?! It was the most revolting, victimizing terrifying feeling. In broad daylight at like 7:45 in the morning I get groped walking my daughter to our car. UGH. UGH. UGH. UGH. UGH. UGH. UGH. UGH. UGH. I didn't want to scream or make a scene...my daughter was with me and hadn't noticed it...it happened so fast...I certainly didn't expect it to. The city has its ugly side.
What the hell is my point? Trade-offs. Insanely busy + bustling city life=with people all the time. Never get to sleep or eat or practically think. Not insanely busy + periods of time left on my own at home or in the great wide green = time to stew, to think, or perchance, to dream. Is there a third option? I think I'm about to create one. It's time for me to get to know myself a bit better without sacrificing my momentum or feeling like I'm about to be swallowed by Dark. I also might start carrying MACE.
I had an interesting Thanksgiving dinner, as an orphan on a
ride along, I spent the day with a friend, her daughter home from college,
and a family I've never met before.
I can't say this is my first time in this
situation. Having Thanksgiving with a family I'm only meeting for the first
time, like last year, and four years (maybe three) before. And like those families, I hope to keep up
with this family in the future.
It's a great thing to be in the presence of family, even if
it's not your own... Their family was so much like mine, I had to laugh. Two of
the daughters had the same names as my nieces... Two of them were teachers,
another thing like my family... Everyone hustled in the kitchen and bumped
butts... And they joked with each other, non-stop, like it is around the
Kiesche family household.
I was truly thankful to get a
taste of family along with some turkey, mashed potatoes, and stuffing.
One of the people I met there is an investor in small films,
it was interesting to hear his views on the WGA work stoppage, and his views on
risk in the movie business. He is under the assumption that the only one that
risks are the people that put money into projects, where everyone else gets paid
up front... It wasn't until the next day sitting around in a post Tryptophan haze
it hit me how wrong he is... While his view is more obvious, it's not true...
If a huge name actor or director makes a film that bombs it
follows them throughout their career. Sure an investor may lose money, which he
or she can write off... But a big actor or director will have a giant turd
follow him/her around for ever. And if a writer's first film flops, regardless
of how bad the acting is, or the direction is, or how many other writers changed
his words... He or she will have a hard time getting a second one made.
So lots of people risk with every project made.
And as far as the smaller roles actors in films... Our whole
career is a risk! Whether or not we work once, twice, or string thirty years
together. It's all a complete risk. So, yes, while an investor risks, or a studio risks... Really, so do
we all.
The show. (YoHoHo...Pirates and all that jazz.) Get 'cher filthy minds outta the gutter ya smarmy sea rats! I am referring to the show I'm PSMing. That sounds hilarious. Sounds like...PMSing...it's all the same, really. (Production Stage Manager) It's a hellish part to play. We had our first preview tonight. There were some absolutely hilarious moments...there were also frankly, some barely-averted-near-disasters. Whew. In the director's words, the show is a little "raw". But, it's UP! We got it UP! Woo-Hoo!!!!
The annoying part of my evening? I didn't do anything for the show except watch the Lighting Designer push the GO button. Good thing he's good lookin'...or I might have been bored. Turns out, me and the light board have not quite come to terms with one another yet. I know it's not rocket science...but it is timing. And apparently I lack it. Wrangled actors occasionally. Oh-- and made the ASM climb up the rickety ladder on top of the balcony to hang the oversized pirate flag--yeah, like I'm gonna do THAT. I'll trapeze but I won't go up a damn ladder...makes perfect sense, right? Seriously, that ladder makes me more nervous than the trapeze.
Supposedly, I'm also the Assistant Director. Assistant Director, who? I think they attach that name to the PSM position just so people think they might actually-maybe-on-a-cold-day-in-hell, get to do something FUN while simultaneously hating their life as a Stage Manager. Who ARE you people who like to do that job? (Stage Management) All the really accomplished Stage Managers I've known have been anal, neurotic, bitchy women with a penchant for power tripping. You know who you are! So... You'd think I'd be better at this, right? Ha ha. Well, fooled you.
Well, we're finally in previews now. Huzzah. Excuse me while I fall over. PSM Lesson #859: Never inhale a huge pasta dinner on a short break and then sit in the same position for hours in a small booth. Ugh. I think I farted the whole way home, once I was finally able to move my legs. Such a glamourous life we lead, yes? We're nuts, all of us! Now, excuse me while I take my farty, bitchy, power-trippy self to bed.
A Pirate plight...Holy shite...Tired of being up all night... --Evelyn White
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Monday, the 26th, both sides of the WGA strike have agreed to come back to the table... Keep your fingers crossed. Hopefully it's over and done and we can all move on!
But just in case they don't come to an agreement, I've included a few chants overheard on picket lines. Feel free to chant along. Several of them I first learned during the commercial strike seven years ago.
Everywhere we go. (chorus repeats) People want to know. (chorus repeats) Who we are. (chorus repeats) So we tell them. (chorus repeats) We are the union. (chorus repeats) The mighty mighty union. (chorus repeats) sometimes additional lines: Fighting for justice. (chorus repeats) And respect. (chorus repeats)
My people/union. Chorus: What/Yeah We tell a story. Chorus: What/Yeah We tell the whole damn world this is union/writer territory.
On strike shut them down. Hollywood’s a union town.
A union... United Will never be divided.
And one that was completely new to me... And tailor made by those crazy writers... Fade in. Fade out. What’s in between? You figure it out.
If you don't understand the importance of solidarity between unions, or solidarity inside your own union or your own future union. Ask.
I do hope this strike ends soon. I'm glad that a judge ordered The Grinch to return. Yay for the kiddies who want to see it, the kids who are in it, and the big kids who are taking their kids to see it.
Speaking of greed: Anybody who shops on Thanksgiving should be murdered.
Never has one day off felt like such a LUXURY. Last night we were teching the show (YoHoHO) until midnight and my daughter landed in my lap at 7ish this morning. The lack of sleep lately was beginning to mount and I was a little worried that this day would be totally depressing. I'm (like most of America) used to spending Thanksgiving with my huge extended family...or my former husband and his extended family. One way or another I was always with a big family. Not this year. This year, it was just my Cricket and me. I had casually invited some "orphans" over...none of whom took me up on
the invitation...but I felt I did my part simply by extending the offer.
That seems to be my 'thing' lately...extending extraneous invitations that appear as disposable as paper napkins. Sometimes I start to wonder if I should stop. Extending, that is. Stop offering my time and my spirit. Just for awhile. Take stock. It's just been weird lately how MANY invitations have been met with "no" or "not now" recently. I don't resent it or deplore it, however, I do find it noteworthy and I wonder if there is an underlying message or lesson in it. A timing thing. Despite that, the sheer simplicity of today ended up taking my breath away. Beautiful moments simply revealed themselves like little mirages coming and going before my eyes as the day progressed, normally and naturally.
After a big breakfast we chilled out and watched The Little Mermaid. By noon my house was clean and I had even mopped all the floors! (A chore I detest.) By 1:00 we had taken a jaunt in the park and were headed back home for lunch. By 2:00 thanks to Trader Joe's I had scurried together what turned out to be a damn fine Thanksgiving meal (in under an hour!) and got all the dishes washed to boot! We both ended up crashing for three hours and ended the rest of the night by watching Under the Tuscan Sun, which somehow ended up feeling terribly appropriate. If you've ever seen the movie, you might get why, if you get my life. Had a long talk with my sister on the phone tonight too and received several texts from friends about their holiday...So, it was a day full of food, relaxation, and rest. I didn't realize just how badly I needed it.
I have an insane weekend ahead of me and this quiet day off--knowing (mostly) everyone else is also taking the day off--simply lovely. My electricity in my house shut off again toward the tail end of the day. I can't figure out how to get the (really old-fashioned) plugs back in without shocking myself...turns out I have a loose wire somewhere...should be fixed soon...so we spent the last few hours, bathing, reading, typing... by candlelight. It was actually quite serene.
The town much quieter. Traffic lighter than normal too. On a studio lot today, it was like a ghost town… Some due to a work stoppage, but most due to tomorrow’s holiday.
I got a message from my mother today; twenty-three people are meeting at my younger sister’s new home in New Jersey.
At times it kills me to be two-thousand-seven-hundred-and- fifty-nine-point-seven-four miles from my family. It kills me that all but one of my brothers and sisters own homes. All but one of my siblings have children and families of their own…
A bachelor living in a one-bedroom apartment.
I love what I do. I am thankful that I get to do what I do. But on nights like these… Quiet, simple, black nights. I wonder. What’s the true cost of choices I’ve made? We all pay the piper. Tonight, it feels like I'm picking up the check.
The Compact Oxford English Dictionary defines Thanksgiving as… “noun 1: the expression of gratitude, especially to God. 2: (Thanksgiving) (in North America) an annual national holiday commemorating a harvest festival celebrated by the Pilgrim Fathers in 1621, held in the US on the fourth Thursday in November…”
An “expression of gratitude…” Not bitching. Not feeling down. Not whining. Nothing about lack of anything. Expressing gratitude for what we’ve been given.
Perfectly honest… I didn’t know where I was going with this blog tonight… I started writing to work some things out. Funny how a simple exercise of looking at a definition of such a well-known word, makes things clearer. Regardless of how I spend the next twenty-four hours, I will remember to give thanks for all that I have harvested in my life.
