I'm in the Most Successful Period of My Life

It's been a long time since I've written on here.

It's not been for lack of interesting things happening. I don't want to overexcite my legion of faithful fans (You guys exist, right?), but I seem to be in the most successful phase of my life thus far.

I recently participated in a second Cranky Cabaret, an always-fun, tune-filled, open bar evening. It was both successful and a bit of a train wreck. The first night I went up to sing my first song, the not-funny-at-all Can't Make You Love Me by Bonnie Raitt, and the accompanist and I were not in the same key. It was really neither of our fault- We weren't given enough time to practice beforehand, we hadn't communicated well on how she was going to do the intro. It was one of those mortifying, nothing-you-can-do-but-keep-going moments, and I kinda wanted to kill myself. I pulled myself together and did my much-funnier duet with the fabulous Lauren Green famously, and then when my second solo at the end of Act 2 came, I went up with a plan. My song, the modern classic Bust Your Windows, needed an introduction: I was a white guy singing a black girl's revenge anthem. So I explained that when bad things happen to me, my inner strong black woman emerges. I began to list examples: 'Your boss is an asshole. A bitch on the subway. You start singing your song in the wrong key at Cranky Cabaret and have to redeem yourself with your second song. You know, hypothetical situations.' And with that, I had the audience back on my side. They laughed and applauded. Afterward several people complimented me on handling the situation absolutely perfectly. The simple fact was that I couldn't just ignore it. The next night the Cabaret as a whole went pretty much perfectly, but while it still mortifies me, I'm able to look back and see the good of completely botching a song: It showed me that 1) Even when I totally bomb, I can keep going and do a good job, and 2) People always respond best to honesty. The acknowledgement of my failure and my intentions to recover from it was the perfect first step in winning the crowd back. It sounds much less significant when written here, but I think it was actually one of the best things I've learned since moving to the city.

I also just participated in a short play that was part of the Take Ten festival, executive produced by my friend Graydon Gund. Grady is always reliable for a unique, whirlwind rehearsal process. We didn't win, but it was so good to get back in front of an audience again.

And finally, The Survivalists. My theatre company is legit, you guys. Our grassroots fundraising campaign is coming to fruition in ways we only hoped for. We're producing an absolutely fantastic new show called 3x3, or 9 after 9 by Shane Breaux, Kevin Brewer, and Michael Christopher, and we just finished initial auditions with over 600 submissions with callbacks set for Tuesday. We're in the process of signing a contract with a publicist who reached out to us personally. And last Thursday we threw an unbelievably successful launch party/fundraiser where we raised over $1000 and took over an UES bar and had one of the most fun nights of my life. For those who haven't been following this as it unfolds (What are you doing with your life??), our show bows the first two weeks of June at the Access Theatre downtown. Follow us on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/theatreofthefittest), Twitter (I'm in charge of it! @survivalistsnyc), and our website (http://thesurvivalists.org/). We're the real deal, y'all.

It's been a busy, stressful, exciting time. I hope it stays that way. I have so much more I want to do. I'm desperate to make a webseries or movie or SOMETHING (seriously, anyone interested, let me know). I plan to start a youtube channel soon for music. I'm so ready to start taking classes again. Anything, just to keep moving.

Because sitting still lends itself to self-examination and over-thinking, and those things rarely lead to good things. Despite all the good that's going on, in the quiet times I still find myself wondering when I'll ever get my life together. There's so much about myself I still don't understand, or am uncomfortable with. I'm frequently tempted to make a list of all the things I'd like to change about myself. I still may,  but only under the strict agreement with myself that I will balance it with a list of things about myself that I love.

I'm sure some people would say that staying busy for the sake of avoiding deeper problems is not really healthy, but I would counter that with an opposite theory: If your work and activity become your whole life, don't the other problems start becoming much smaller issues than they previously were? Still. I will always continue to try and transform myself into a better, more complete person. Lately I've been wondering: When will I stop imagining the fabulous life I'm going to live and start actually living it? I'm tired of wishing I'd gone to things, of making up excuses to stay in, or passing up opportunities. I'm tired of wishing I could lose that weight. I'm tired of wishing I would do more worthwhile things with my time.

Which brings me to this blog. I'm undecided as to what it should become. Simply talking about my life has started to seem a little dull to me, and perhaps a bit self-serving (though always remarkably therapeutic). I will continue to update my faithful friends and family on exciting things in my life, but I'd like to write about something a little bit more than that. I'm not sure what that means just yet.

I'm so grateful for the opportunities that have been given to me lately. I'm so thankful for the people in my life who have supported me and mean so much to me (I hope you know who you are). I feel confident that I'm where I'm supposed to be for the first time in a long time, and that's possibly the greatest gift God could give me.

Opening nights, job hunts, life questions, etc.

Last week I performed on a real (aka non-school) NYC stage for the first time. It was a charming little play called Gastroenteritis on the F Train. I can't remember if I've told this story yet, so I'll tell it now- I first got cast in this play in a tiny one-line role as a homeless man. I went after it full-throttle, doing all my actor homework and asking all those oh-so-important questions like why he was homeless and what caused him to perform on the subway and did he have a mental illness, etc, etc, etc. Then after the first two rehearsals I got an email from the director saying that the leading man had dropped out and they would like me to step up and take his place. I did so.

We rehearsed in public for this show because none of us had the money to pay for a rehearsal space; since the show takes place on the subway, rehearsing in public actually proved appropo. There's nothing like staging a conversation between a male makeup artist, an Indian woman in a Sari, and an East Village hipster in the Winter Gardens downtown to make you forget your shame, which is what acting is all about. Still. This character didn't come easily, for some reason. I don't know if it had to do with mindset, unresolved feelings about replacing the original actor, or what. But Opening Night came and went without me feeling any of the satisfaction that comes from a performance well done.

So I began to pray. I asked God to help me be the best I could be, to cleanse me of the self-doubt that would hold me back, and to help me deliver the good message I believe is in the character I was playing. I believe He has guided and will continue to guide me to the parts I'm supposed to play aka He puts me in projects for a reason. I told Him I trusted that. Then I did my homework, and applied the training I learned at AADA. I determined conclusively my moment before. I figured out exactly what my character's deepest underlying want was. I swallowed my pride and massaged my face and stretched out my body in the dressing room before the show. And I went on the next night and the audience loved it and I felt that rush of perfect performance that I live for. The night after was much the same.

And it made it all worth it. Everything. Every moment of disbelief, of doubt, of rejection, disappointment, stress EVER. I have always said (at least to myself) that true actors are built differently than normal people. There is something in us that feeds directly off of delivering great entertainment to people. It wasn't some kind of grand run of a play, and we didn't even advance to the next level of our competition. But being what that audience, no matter how small, wanted to see, guiding them through emotions and a journey and laughter... That's what I'm here for. That's what it's all about.

It's been a tough time. I'm still unemployed, and every resume and cover letter I send out that gets no response feels like another blow to my ego. I don't understand how I let myself get to such a bad place with money, and I can't understand why I can't find a freaking job. Naturally, this brings out all of the other emotions I usually push down: stress, frustration at my lack of social life, worry about my career, and just about every other negative thought you can imagine- I've probably felt it over the past year. I send a text and it gets ignored. I go to an audition and the person behind the table never even looks up. All these things have built up in me a sort of defense mechanism that is always there to remind me: No one is going to give anything to me. I'm going to have to fight for myself.

But something kinda miraculous happened tonight. For the last several months I've been talking with a few friends about starting our own theater company, and all it would imply, and what we would want it to be, so forth and so on. Recently, we did it. We registered with the IRS and started it up; they all had the money to contribute to make that happen. I didn't. I was tasked with researching our first play. At the time, it pretty much felt like just another burden. It was certainly another reminder that I don't even have a source of income while everyone I know does. And because it's been hard for me lately to focus on anything acting-related, I really didn't do anything about it for the past few weeks. A few days ago I had to send the guys an email explaining that I hadn't done the work they'd asked me to do, and I still couldn't contribute monetarily and I'm doing my best which, as seems to be the case lately, is not good enough, blah, blah, blah. And I pretty much expected a response of disappointment and dwindled friendship.

Tonight they responded. This is what it said (I hope they don't mind me sharing):

James,

 

    I spoke with Emily and Betsy and we totally understand your position. We've all been there before and we certainly don't want to burden you with an extra obligation. If you think taking a back seat for a while would give you time to get on your feet then by all means do it. None of us want to completely kick you out of the company, as we love collaborating with you. That being said, the last thing we want is for you to feel obligated to us; we know this is a big investment, both mentally and financially. Let us know what you would like to do, and not matter what, we will support you. If you'd like to just be a company member and have less background work, we can do that. If you'd like to take time to focus on jobs and come back on in full once you've found a job, that's great. If your heart's not in starting a company right now, we get that too and we'd call you when we start auditioning because we'd still love to work with you. Just let us know what feels right, and we will support you.

 

Just Get done what you need to and we'll take care of everything for now. Let us know when/if you'd like to rejoin in full capacity and There's always a spot for you!

 

That may not seem all that miraculous to you, but to me it was like a reminder of good in the world (at least a reminder of good in the entertainment world). It was a reminder that feeling sorry for yourself never helped anybody, and expecting the worst is the worst thing to expect. I will try and thank those guys for being so understanding, but I doubt words can express how much that email meant to me. 

 

Right now I'm with my parents and sisters in the Poconos Mountains. It's so beautiful, and so relaxing, and they're helping me get back on track with good feeling. I recently went to a group interview for a company called David's Tea that I apparently didn't get hired by but will continue apply to because it sounds awesome. As part of the interview we were supposed to bring in an object that had personal meaning to us and talk about it for the group. At first I had no idea what to bring, but then I realized I was wearing it: My old T-Shirt from Wind in the Willows at the HCPAC in Athens, Tx.- the very first leading role I ever played, and the first show at that theater that shaped me so much. I told them about how I like to wear it at the apartment as a little piece of home. I talked about how I realized how much it meant to me when it recently got stained and I thought it was ruined (luckily, I was able to fix it). I told them about how it was a daily reminder of why I am where I am: Because I love performing. I love entertaining people. I really think it was what I was made to do. It's my way of helping the world, and I believe in the power of entertainment to do that. 

 

So I have a task ahead of me. To return to the city on Monday and stay diligent about the job hunt and GET HIRED. To begin to rid myself of the cynicism that has become such a part of my thinking and trade it in for a renewed belief in the good of people and life. To rediscover zeal and confidence and happy-go-lucky-ness. To acknowledge and deal with the deeper-rooted issues that lead me into these negative feelings. And to trust. To remember why I'm here. To commit myself. To become a better person (That's not to much to ask, right?) 

 

((No. I don't think it is.))

 

 (((Wish me luck.)))