I'm back in NYC for the long haul. After my previous post, I returned to Estes Park for a couple weeks to take care of little brother Sam while Mom and Dad took Ben to college at A&M- another Aggie! Whoop! (I am the biggest Aggie fan that never attended Texas A&M)
It was another fantastic break from the heat of NYC in summer, and the stress of living right in the middle of everything I need to be doing. I hiked, I read, I cooked, I sat in a chair and watched movies. I strengthened friendships. And I prepared myself to return to the city and work at what I believe I was made to do.
During the week and a half I was here, I auditioned for a new play called Gastroenteritis on the F Train, part of Manhattan Theatre Rep's One Act Play competition. I had received the sides ahead of time, worked at them, got a real feel for them, prepared, and was looking forward to the audition. I walked in the room the day of and everything felt dead. An audition that I had been looking forward to for days was falling completely flat right in front of my eyes. Needless to say, I left the building more than a little upset, and completely ready to go home.
That night I got an email saying I had been given a part.
Who can say why it happened. Was I a second choice? Did I completely misinterpret the audition? I'd like to think it was because they saw something in me, something special that even my bad auditioning couldn't hide. Something that I've always felt was in me.
It's a small part in a small play, but I couldn't be more thankful for it. I couldn't be more thankful for any opportunity to not only do what I love, but share part of myself.
Over the course of being away I came to a realization, one that I think I've known, but had gotten pushed aside and forgotten somewhere along the way: I'm not doing this for me. I'm doing this because to serve others, and because God has given me a dream and a drive. When Judith Light visited my school last year, she talked about how she believes entertainment is a service industry, and rarely has anything made more sense to me. I truly believe I am meant to serve in that way. Sometmes I lay in my bed late at night and I think that I just can't do enough, I just can't give enough. I want to give it all, everything, because that's why I do what I do. To share. To move. To change. To help. To entertain. And I can always give more of myself in pursuit of that ideal.
I look at the people I most admire, and how tirelessly they have worked over the years to be the best they can be. And I want that. I want to share and give all of myself so that maybe I can one day be that to someone else. I could kick myself (and have done so) sometimes because of my laziness. If I can't work toward this every day, then what am I doing?
I don't really know what the point of this post is. I felt the need to write, so I did. Sometimes I look at myself and I think how foolish I am, how ridiculously seriously I take all this, and how much I overestimate myself. But there's always another little something even deeper down inside that tells me to not give up. So I'm not going to quit giving myself. No matter how charming a normal life sounds, I can't do that right now. It's not how I was programmed. There's something in me that draws me to this lifestyle. I will follow that call.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Back to NYC after a month away
I spent the last month having a decidedly NON-New York Experience. I made the decision to run away from the sweltering heat and steadily building discontent of NYC and fly home for a couple weeks. A couple weeks turned into three with a mission trip tacked on the end; I loved every minute of it. Partially because I didn't have to worry about becoming a sweat-dripping, red-faced monster when I stepped out the door, but mostly because I didn't have to worry, period. That's such a fantastic, indescribable, wonderful feeling. It's also, unfortunately, not reality. Not past the age of 18.
Now it's true that God tells us not to worry, and I understand what He means; My eventual destination is secured, and I have a really big helper on my side. So, from the big perspective, life is pretty carefree. But life while we're living it is full of, if not worry, then thinking. Choosing. Taking action. Making mistakes. Struggle is what life is made of. Perhaps we'll get back to that in a bit.
I spent last week in El Salvador at an orphanage called Casa Hogar Jehovah Jireh. My family and I stayed there before when we were on our six-month Central American extravaganza. It's supported by a wonderful company called SHIP and is filled with the sweetest, kindest, most loving kids I've ever known. It's hard for me to even think back on them right now without being overcome; these kids are amazing. We planted gardens and built showers and delivered quail coops and took kids to waterparks and it was a truly fantastic week. It was also a week of much self-examination. I can't speak highly enough of the people that were on the trip with me, both my family and the others there. Such fearlessness, such a complete lack of inhibition or conceitedness; it's hard for me to explicate clearly so I guess I'll put it this way: If I learned one thing from last week it's how much I'm stuck in my head and how often that makes me selfish. How often do I think of myself before others? How can I serve like that? All "spirituality" aside, how much do I limit myself in that way, by overanalyzing instead of just jumping in and DOING?
How many people would meet me and get an impression even close to what I think of those kids? If they can afford to live with such love surely I can too.
I think somewhere in there there's an answer to the musings up at the top; at the very least there's some wisdom. When all I think of is myself, I'm bound to get a little sick of the same thing over and over. If I overanalyze every situation I'll never be surprised. And if I can learn to see struggle, obstacle, work as the stuff life is made of, the stuff that makes living being alive, then I might just start greeting life a little bit more like those kids. Did I just make sense? I'm not sure, but I think I needed to write it.
So all of my problems are solved, yes? No, certainly not. I'm still an unemployed actor who feels more alone than ever in the most crowded city in America, and once I figure me out I can move on to life's other great unsolved mysteries such as how to stay fit while eating what I want, is bigfoot real, and why can't I keep track of a set of fingernail clippers ever. But I may be able to get some sleep tonight now.
On my last night at the orphanage one of the kids slid a bracelet they made onto my wrist. I intend to wear it FOREVER... or at least until it falls apart. Just as a little reminder of how I want to live my life: With love.
Now it's true that God tells us not to worry, and I understand what He means; My eventual destination is secured, and I have a really big helper on my side. So, from the big perspective, life is pretty carefree. But life while we're living it is full of, if not worry, then thinking. Choosing. Taking action. Making mistakes. Struggle is what life is made of. Perhaps we'll get back to that in a bit.
I spent last week in El Salvador at an orphanage called Casa Hogar Jehovah Jireh. My family and I stayed there before when we were on our six-month Central American extravaganza. It's supported by a wonderful company called SHIP and is filled with the sweetest, kindest, most loving kids I've ever known. It's hard for me to even think back on them right now without being overcome; these kids are amazing. We planted gardens and built showers and delivered quail coops and took kids to waterparks and it was a truly fantastic week. It was also a week of much self-examination. I can't speak highly enough of the people that were on the trip with me, both my family and the others there. Such fearlessness, such a complete lack of inhibition or conceitedness; it's hard for me to explicate clearly so I guess I'll put it this way: If I learned one thing from last week it's how much I'm stuck in my head and how often that makes me selfish. How often do I think of myself before others? How can I serve like that? All "spirituality" aside, how much do I limit myself in that way, by overanalyzing instead of just jumping in and DOING?
How many people would meet me and get an impression even close to what I think of those kids? If they can afford to live with such love surely I can too.
I think somewhere in there there's an answer to the musings up at the top; at the very least there's some wisdom. When all I think of is myself, I'm bound to get a little sick of the same thing over and over. If I overanalyze every situation I'll never be surprised. And if I can learn to see struggle, obstacle, work as the stuff life is made of, the stuff that makes living being alive, then I might just start greeting life a little bit more like those kids. Did I just make sense? I'm not sure, but I think I needed to write it.
So all of my problems are solved, yes? No, certainly not. I'm still an unemployed actor who feels more alone than ever in the most crowded city in America, and once I figure me out I can move on to life's other great unsolved mysteries such as how to stay fit while eating what I want, is bigfoot real, and why can't I keep track of a set of fingernail clippers ever. But I may be able to get some sleep tonight now.
On my last night at the orphanage one of the kids slid a bracelet they made onto my wrist. I intend to wear it FOREVER... or at least until it falls apart. Just as a little reminder of how I want to live my life: With love.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
An Update
Well. It's been awhile. I debated for a long time how much I wanted to reveal to the world wide web and anybody I personally know who might read this (and was actually kinda discouraged from it by my dad at first), but I've decided honesty is the best policy in life; I did not end up participating in the show I had been rehearsing for, The Wedding Plan. Various factors that I have no interest in going into anymore contributed to me being unfairly ousted, along with a couple other cast members mere days before the performances. It was one of the most confusing, infuriating, awful experiences of my life. It was both a blessing and a curse that it happened the day before I went home for my brother, Ben's graduation; a blessing because I was going home and away from the city and industry I felt pretty betrayed by, a curse because I had to explain what had happened what felt like 5 million times to my extended family and people (many of whom I don't actually know) who asked how my play was going. (In retrospect, it's really quite remarkable and flattering that people actually care enough to inquire, and I'm grateful for that.)
Of course, once I was home I didn't want to return. But return I did, to several lined up auditions, all of which, as it goes with life, went fantastically. Still. It was a tough time. I was back in a place I didn't really currently want to be. We were in the midst of rushing around trying to decide whether to renew our lease or move. I was (and am) quickly running out of money, and was having a harder time than expected finding a job. And as much as I knew I needed to move on, I still felt ashamed and angry about what happened. And I didn't write on here or talk too much to people because I didn't want to until I had good news to report.
Then one night I had to run out around midnight and go to the office of our landlord to slip our rent under her door- It was the last day it could be turned in, and, being Addisons, we'd waited 'til then to do so. Then I began to walk back to the subway, but when I got to it I wanted to keep walking. So I did. I spent some time contemplating life by a lit-up fountain. I kept walking past more and more subway stops, my mind moving at the same time as my feet. What I came to realize as I was walking the streets of New York City at 2 in the morning was that I didn't need to wait for good news to come: I had more than enough to be thankful for already. I'm living in the city I've always wanted to, pursuing the dream of my life. I have a family that I never could have deserved. And I have an unshakeable faith. I had good news all around me all the time, and I needed to remember it.
And then good news came. I walked all the way home from 59th St to 104th, came in, got online, and had an email waiting to tell me that I had been cast in the first reading of a new musical.
The reading went nicely. It's a lovely new show called My Illustrious Wasteland, and I love the music. They're hoping to put it up in a workshop next (just like Smash, for any of you who've seen it), with the hope of getting some producers to take it to Off-Broadway after that. Now mind you, it's just an inital reading; no casting is confirmed yet. I felt like a real actor sitting in that room. Working on new material, doing whatever is asked of me with no promises and no guarantees. Haha.
Tonight I went and watched an outdoor free screening of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid in Bryant Park. Watching a movie out under the stars (that I couldn't see, this is NYC after all), with the skyscrapers towering around me... It was a pretty awesome experience (even if that movie is one of the weirdest I've ever seen). Last weekend, I drove out of the city with Amy, Julie, and Julie's boyfriend Luis to a state park. They had designated swimming areas, but, naturally, those would not suffice for the Addisons. We wandered up the road a bit, and swam out into the open water, out to a little island sticking up in the middle of the lake. It was fantastic. I'm incredibly grateful that, even in troubling or difficult times, I'm still able to overwhelmed every now and then by the beauty of life. Sometimes I feel it even in just the smallest things, like having the perfect meal right when you want it or seeing the sun set in a beautiful, unique way.
Something occurred to me recently. While I was in the midst of my despair over what had happened with the show, I, as always, began to drudge through all of the painful or traumatic experiences of my life- and I've had my fair share, no matter how well I've hidden them or grinned through them. And it struck me that maybe I go through genuinely dramatic events because I live my life to the extreme emotionally. And, if so, I don't think that's something I ever want to change about myself.
Or, who knows, maybe I'm just truly the King of the Drama.
Anyway, this post has been long and rambling. In a couple weeks I'll be flying home to spend some time with my brothers, my Mom and Dad, and myself. There's nothing like being away from all opportunity to really give me the drive to come back here and prove myself. Naturally, as soon as I officially made the decision to go away for a bit, my social life began to fill up, but isn't that the way life always goes? And who cares! Who knows when the next time I'll be free to go home and just chill will be?
I'll end with this: I recently was asked: If I had 500 million dollars (or some huge amount like that), and never had to worry about money, what would I do? I would do exactly what I'm doing right now, living in NYC, going after my dream. I have to say, I'm pretty proud of that.
Of course, once I was home I didn't want to return. But return I did, to several lined up auditions, all of which, as it goes with life, went fantastically. Still. It was a tough time. I was back in a place I didn't really currently want to be. We were in the midst of rushing around trying to decide whether to renew our lease or move. I was (and am) quickly running out of money, and was having a harder time than expected finding a job. And as much as I knew I needed to move on, I still felt ashamed and angry about what happened. And I didn't write on here or talk too much to people because I didn't want to until I had good news to report.
Then one night I had to run out around midnight and go to the office of our landlord to slip our rent under her door- It was the last day it could be turned in, and, being Addisons, we'd waited 'til then to do so. Then I began to walk back to the subway, but when I got to it I wanted to keep walking. So I did. I spent some time contemplating life by a lit-up fountain. I kept walking past more and more subway stops, my mind moving at the same time as my feet. What I came to realize as I was walking the streets of New York City at 2 in the morning was that I didn't need to wait for good news to come: I had more than enough to be thankful for already. I'm living in the city I've always wanted to, pursuing the dream of my life. I have a family that I never could have deserved. And I have an unshakeable faith. I had good news all around me all the time, and I needed to remember it.
And then good news came. I walked all the way home from 59th St to 104th, came in, got online, and had an email waiting to tell me that I had been cast in the first reading of a new musical.
The reading went nicely. It's a lovely new show called My Illustrious Wasteland, and I love the music. They're hoping to put it up in a workshop next (just like Smash, for any of you who've seen it), with the hope of getting some producers to take it to Off-Broadway after that. Now mind you, it's just an inital reading; no casting is confirmed yet. I felt like a real actor sitting in that room. Working on new material, doing whatever is asked of me with no promises and no guarantees. Haha.
Tonight I went and watched an outdoor free screening of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid in Bryant Park. Watching a movie out under the stars (that I couldn't see, this is NYC after all), with the skyscrapers towering around me... It was a pretty awesome experience (even if that movie is one of the weirdest I've ever seen). Last weekend, I drove out of the city with Amy, Julie, and Julie's boyfriend Luis to a state park. They had designated swimming areas, but, naturally, those would not suffice for the Addisons. We wandered up the road a bit, and swam out into the open water, out to a little island sticking up in the middle of the lake. It was fantastic. I'm incredibly grateful that, even in troubling or difficult times, I'm still able to overwhelmed every now and then by the beauty of life. Sometimes I feel it even in just the smallest things, like having the perfect meal right when you want it or seeing the sun set in a beautiful, unique way.
Something occurred to me recently. While I was in the midst of my despair over what had happened with the show, I, as always, began to drudge through all of the painful or traumatic experiences of my life- and I've had my fair share, no matter how well I've hidden them or grinned through them. And it struck me that maybe I go through genuinely dramatic events because I live my life to the extreme emotionally. And, if so, I don't think that's something I ever want to change about myself.
Or, who knows, maybe I'm just truly the King of the Drama.
Anyway, this post has been long and rambling. In a couple weeks I'll be flying home to spend some time with my brothers, my Mom and Dad, and myself. There's nothing like being away from all opportunity to really give me the drive to come back here and prove myself. Naturally, as soon as I officially made the decision to go away for a bit, my social life began to fill up, but isn't that the way life always goes? And who cares! Who knows when the next time I'll be free to go home and just chill will be?
I'll end with this: I recently was asked: If I had 500 million dollars (or some huge amount like that), and never had to worry about money, what would I do? I would do exactly what I'm doing right now, living in NYC, going after my dream. I have to say, I'm pretty proud of that.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Actor (and general Jay) Insecurities
It's been a fast-paced couple of weeks. Rehearsals for The Wedding Plan are underway, and run-thrus of the show have begun! We'll get to more on that later. But first, an anecdote! The other day, I was leaving my apartment building, running late (as always) for class. As I was going out the front door, these two guys in suits stopped and stared at me, and I knew right away they were going to talk to me. I was proven right as soon as I walked outside.
'Excuse me, do you live here?'
'Yes.'
'Has anyone come to talk to you about the green energy yet?'
'No.'
'No! Oh man!' (Man begins fiddling with a notebook of some kind.)
'Listen, guys, I'm running really late and I can't talk right now.'
'Okay, that's okay. (Jay begins to leave.) Can you tell us your apartment number so that we won't go there?'
'4A'
'Okay, thanks!' (Man immediately begins buzzing apartments to be let in.)
It was only after I had walked hurriedly to the bus that I realized I had just told two men who were clearly not real salesmen my apartment number and made it obvious that I was not currently inside it. And in actuality, no one was. So I spent the bus ride to the west side stressing out, convinced that we were going to be robbed, and it would be ENTIRELY my fault. It didn't help that I was sitting next to the most neurotic girl ever. She was talking on the phone, and, when she wasn't looking nervously around, she kept her chin literally down to her chest, and she would say things like, 'I'm going to hang up soon, I really don't like talking on the bus.' or 'I don't really go out in New York, I get really nervous someone might see me.' or 'I'm going to quite my job because I'm so bored. I literally lay there all night awake because I'm so bored.' She was quite serious about all of these statements. Anyway, we weren't robbed, though Julie's initial text was: 'Nothing is missing EXCEPT AMY.' Thankfully, Amy returned later that night, having not been stolen away by the fake salesmen after all.
Of course that's a normal day compared to the evening I was riding the train and this man came on begging for money; he began in the usual manner, albeit very loudly, asking people to donate out of goodness. Then he progressed to getting in people's faces, telling them to have a heart, and being unbelieving at their unwillingness to share their money. Then he proceeded to telling us we were lucky he didn't have a gun pointed in our faces; he bet we would give up some money then. Luckily, he got off at the next stop. If he hadn't, I would have made a run for it.
But don't let me convince you NYC's all danger and no fun. I've been having a marvelous time lately. I love the cast of my show, and feel like I've made some real friends. The other night I went and saw my friend Steve's band Live Nudes (A pun. Everyone relax.) play at this bar in Brooklyn, and they ROCKED! That guitarist can shred! Everybody should check 'em out on Fbook. It was a fantastic way to spend a Friday night, let me tell you. And even just hanging out in people's apartments; I am probably the most appreciative apartment-hanger-outer there ever was. I love getting to know people. I love getting to realize I've made a new friend.
Of course, making new friends comes with some other stuff attached; at least for me. When I open myself up, I open myself up pretty completely. It's been a realization about myself that's become clear again with this new batch of friendships. I'm not that normal of a person. Opening myself up to friendships scares me a little. I'm allowing myself the possibility of not being in total control. But I think I'm getting better. Just another thing I have to be thankful to The Wedding Plan for.
Oh, The Wedding Plan. I'm so grateful for this opportunity, and I want so much to be perfect in it. That has not been coming so naturally lately. Our first run-through felt really rough to me. So I put in the time this weekend to really get back in the script, front to back. And I went to second run-through, and I put my heart into it, and people laughed, and I enjoyed it, and felt so good.... And then in notes, the director had much less than positive things to say about it. Not about the show in general... about me. I don't really know what a proper analogy is; when an actor feels really good about what they've been doing on stage (or film), and then is told by the person in charge that it's not good... It really throws you for a loop. Suddenly, nothing is certain. Does everybody think I'm bad? Have I been deluding myself that I was doing well? Have I been deluding myself that I can act at all? Does anybody even like me? I think I'm worse about this than most, but who knows? All I know is that being told so unexpectedly that what I was doing wasn't satisfactory was pretty much gut-wrenching. I walked to the subway by myself, and my eyes were slightly less than dry.
But it means I have to work harder. I have to be better. This kind of thing only reassures me that I'm doing what I'm meant to do. Because the entire ride home and the rest of the day, the deep-rooted desire to share my soul, and entertain, and move people just burned and burned inside of me. And perhaps these thoughts that race through my head when things like this happen have been part of what's shaped me into the determined person I am today. Now I'm going to stop talking about this because I'm making myself, and no doubt you, uncomfortable.
Back to rehearsal again tomorrow. I'm nervous and scared. But I will not stop working at it. I will not stop opening myself up. I don't think I could. Anyway. That's what's been going on.
'Excuse me, do you live here?'
'Yes.'
'Has anyone come to talk to you about the green energy yet?'
'No.'
'No! Oh man!' (Man begins fiddling with a notebook of some kind.)
'Listen, guys, I'm running really late and I can't talk right now.'
'Okay, that's okay. (Jay begins to leave.) Can you tell us your apartment number so that we won't go there?'
'4A'
'Okay, thanks!' (Man immediately begins buzzing apartments to be let in.)
It was only after I had walked hurriedly to the bus that I realized I had just told two men who were clearly not real salesmen my apartment number and made it obvious that I was not currently inside it. And in actuality, no one was. So I spent the bus ride to the west side stressing out, convinced that we were going to be robbed, and it would be ENTIRELY my fault. It didn't help that I was sitting next to the most neurotic girl ever. She was talking on the phone, and, when she wasn't looking nervously around, she kept her chin literally down to her chest, and she would say things like, 'I'm going to hang up soon, I really don't like talking on the bus.' or 'I don't really go out in New York, I get really nervous someone might see me.' or 'I'm going to quite my job because I'm so bored. I literally lay there all night awake because I'm so bored.' She was quite serious about all of these statements. Anyway, we weren't robbed, though Julie's initial text was: 'Nothing is missing EXCEPT AMY.' Thankfully, Amy returned later that night, having not been stolen away by the fake salesmen after all.
Of course that's a normal day compared to the evening I was riding the train and this man came on begging for money; he began in the usual manner, albeit very loudly, asking people to donate out of goodness. Then he progressed to getting in people's faces, telling them to have a heart, and being unbelieving at their unwillingness to share their money. Then he proceeded to telling us we were lucky he didn't have a gun pointed in our faces; he bet we would give up some money then. Luckily, he got off at the next stop. If he hadn't, I would have made a run for it.
But don't let me convince you NYC's all danger and no fun. I've been having a marvelous time lately. I love the cast of my show, and feel like I've made some real friends. The other night I went and saw my friend Steve's band Live Nudes (A pun. Everyone relax.) play at this bar in Brooklyn, and they ROCKED! That guitarist can shred! Everybody should check 'em out on Fbook. It was a fantastic way to spend a Friday night, let me tell you. And even just hanging out in people's apartments; I am probably the most appreciative apartment-hanger-outer there ever was. I love getting to know people. I love getting to realize I've made a new friend.
Of course, making new friends comes with some other stuff attached; at least for me. When I open myself up, I open myself up pretty completely. It's been a realization about myself that's become clear again with this new batch of friendships. I'm not that normal of a person. Opening myself up to friendships scares me a little. I'm allowing myself the possibility of not being in total control. But I think I'm getting better. Just another thing I have to be thankful to The Wedding Plan for.
Oh, The Wedding Plan. I'm so grateful for this opportunity, and I want so much to be perfect in it. That has not been coming so naturally lately. Our first run-through felt really rough to me. So I put in the time this weekend to really get back in the script, front to back. And I went to second run-through, and I put my heart into it, and people laughed, and I enjoyed it, and felt so good.... And then in notes, the director had much less than positive things to say about it. Not about the show in general... about me. I don't really know what a proper analogy is; when an actor feels really good about what they've been doing on stage (or film), and then is told by the person in charge that it's not good... It really throws you for a loop. Suddenly, nothing is certain. Does everybody think I'm bad? Have I been deluding myself that I was doing well? Have I been deluding myself that I can act at all? Does anybody even like me? I think I'm worse about this than most, but who knows? All I know is that being told so unexpectedly that what I was doing wasn't satisfactory was pretty much gut-wrenching. I walked to the subway by myself, and my eyes were slightly less than dry.
But it means I have to work harder. I have to be better. This kind of thing only reassures me that I'm doing what I'm meant to do. Because the entire ride home and the rest of the day, the deep-rooted desire to share my soul, and entertain, and move people just burned and burned inside of me. And perhaps these thoughts that race through my head when things like this happen have been part of what's shaped me into the determined person I am today. Now I'm going to stop talking about this because I'm making myself, and no doubt you, uncomfortable.
Back to rehearsal again tomorrow. I'm nervous and scared. But I will not stop working at it. I will not stop opening myself up. I don't think I could. Anyway. That's what's been going on.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Shooting Movies on the Streets of NYC, No Big Deal
Today I agreed to film a scene for a short film by recommendation (I totally don't audition anymore). We were filming in Riverside Park (a lovely place, btw), and the last shot consisted of me walking up while talking on the phone, and then noticing two men fighting, getting scared, and turning and walking quickly the opposite direction. Obviously, there wasn't actually anyone fighting. I was, ya know, acting. Well I did it like a pro, but one passerby woman with her dog became quite concerned about what I was seeing that she wasn't- I was clearly quite disturbed by the vacant meadow in front of me. Eventually she noticed the guy filming and figured it out... and then shuffled sheepishly away. It was rather hilarious.
My AADA classmates all graduated last week. Gotta say, I feel a bit like a proud uncle or something; that is a talented bunch of people. They're all embarking on the tumultuous journey of being an actor in NYC. Good luck, my friends. Somehow I think you'll all be fabulous. It's funny the way life works, though, isn't it? The irony is not lost on me that pretty close to the same time my parents would have been coming to New York to watch me graduate had I stayed in school, they'll instead be coming to watch me perform in my first NYC production.
I've gotta say, it is still so great just to be working on a show. I have such a good feeling about this one. I love my cast, the director is so smart, and it all just feels like the place I'm supposed to be. That is such a great feeling to have. Meanwhile, I'm still filming the short film with Boy Wonder Ben Konigsberg; there's beginning to be a joke that those of us who signed on for this movie will have work every Saturday for the next two years. I think we'll be finishing it all up this Friday. But who knows? I will keep acting for that kid as along as he will let me.
For some reason, despite my ever-dwindling bank account, I can't seem to make myself start working part-time. Chalk it up to a delightful mix of wanting to avoid stress, wishing I could just be an actor and that's all, and, of course, that old reliable laziness. I think I will probably get on the whole unemployment thing tomorrow (like I haven't told myself that a hundred times before).
Life is good. I'm doing what I love, I'm having more of a life than I've had in like a year (a true miracle for me), and I'm greeting everything with an attitude based on love; life is lovable. There is a beauty to life if you will let yourself see it, even in the hardest of times, even when you've been 'done wrong'. I'm speaking from personal (even recent) experience. Move on. Keep going. Learn from it, and love it. I'll end with this quote, which I've liked for a very long time from Virginia Woolf: "To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face, and to know it for what it is... at last, to love it for what it is. And then to put it away."
My AADA classmates all graduated last week. Gotta say, I feel a bit like a proud uncle or something; that is a talented bunch of people. They're all embarking on the tumultuous journey of being an actor in NYC. Good luck, my friends. Somehow I think you'll all be fabulous. It's funny the way life works, though, isn't it? The irony is not lost on me that pretty close to the same time my parents would have been coming to New York to watch me graduate had I stayed in school, they'll instead be coming to watch me perform in my first NYC production.
I've gotta say, it is still so great just to be working on a show. I have such a good feeling about this one. I love my cast, the director is so smart, and it all just feels like the place I'm supposed to be. That is such a great feeling to have. Meanwhile, I'm still filming the short film with Boy Wonder Ben Konigsberg; there's beginning to be a joke that those of us who signed on for this movie will have work every Saturday for the next two years. I think we'll be finishing it all up this Friday. But who knows? I will keep acting for that kid as along as he will let me.
For some reason, despite my ever-dwindling bank account, I can't seem to make myself start working part-time. Chalk it up to a delightful mix of wanting to avoid stress, wishing I could just be an actor and that's all, and, of course, that old reliable laziness. I think I will probably get on the whole unemployment thing tomorrow (like I haven't told myself that a hundred times before).
Life is good. I'm doing what I love, I'm having more of a life than I've had in like a year (a true miracle for me), and I'm greeting everything with an attitude based on love; life is lovable. There is a beauty to life if you will let yourself see it, even in the hardest of times, even when you've been 'done wrong'. I'm speaking from personal (even recent) experience. Move on. Keep going. Learn from it, and love it. I'll end with this quote, which I've liked for a very long time from Virginia Woolf: "To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face, and to know it for what it is... at last, to love it for what it is. And then to put it away."
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Staten Island Adventures
I had an adventure last week. The weekend prior, we hadn't finished filming the short film I've been working on and I was supposed to come in on Easter Sunday to finish it up. Amy and Julie had decided to go to Washington DC for the weekend, and I was going to have to stay behind. They drove Amy's car (which has been the source of unbelieveable amounts of aggravation for her) to DC, and parked it in a garage close to our house when they got back around midnight Sunday night. It was requested that little unemployed me drive the car out to Staten Island where Amy's friend lives and park it. After much cajoling, I was talked into it and I convinced Liz to go with me.
For those of you unaware, Staten Island is technically a part of New York City, but it's about as far away you can get without leaving. It's across the river, on a different landmass. We mapped out our course, spent half an hour finding the garage they had parked in, went sprinting back to the apartment to grab the keys (wouldn't have gotten far without those), and set off. The drive took FOREVER. We were supposed to be back by 2 (Liz had work at five); 2 o'clock rolled around and we were sitting in traffic on a bridge. But jamming to CDs, surviving on a canteen of Dr. Pepper and box of Cheez Its had a wonderful feeling of home to it; we weren't too distressed. Then we reached our destination. We could not find this guy's address anywhere. We saw the numbers before and after, but not his. Eventually we assumed he must be one of a cluster of apartments and we parked the car in the according parking lot. The bus came that we were to take back to Manhattan, and we were not allowed to enter, told that our Metro cards were not sufficient for this oh-so-grand 'express bus'. Liz was beginning to get concerned. The only other bus option was a local that would drop us at the ferry- no way we would make it back in time! So after some kind help from a man waiting for the NEXT express bus (which wouldn't come for half an hour), I was informed that the closest place to buy a ticket was down the Avenue at a laundromat. I went sprinting off, theme music running through my brain. I got the ticket! We made the bus! We got back less than an hour before Liz had to start work, but all in all it was okay!
That night I was informed the car had been parked in the wrong place. The next day the guy told us a note had been put on it saying it would be towed. And the next morning I found myself catching the confounded express bus, all alone, back to Staten Island.
But I succeeded. I moved that car to its proper place (the side of the road, apparently), and without the dramatic confrontation I was imagining with the tow truck man as he loaded it onto his truck at the exact moment I jumped off the bus shouting 'WAIT!! THAT'S MY CAR!!!' (Though perhaps that might have been a better ending to the story.) Still. Success felt sweet, especially since I've been riding on a bit of a wave of success lately and Amy's car being towed would have really broken that up.
Well for the most part it's been a wave of success. The night before my second outing to Staten was not a good one. Without going too much into details, it was brought glaringly back to my attention that I'm not always the nicest person, frequently to the people who mean the most to me. I know why I do it: It's a laziness thing. I spend all my time in public trying as hard as I can to please, so when I come home, or am around people I'm truly comfortable with, I stop trying as hard. But that's no excuse.
Succeeding with Amy's car was a nice bounce back, and a good start to a renewed attempt at being the man God wants me to be. That was the lesson, I suppose: When I'm working to please God, my relationship with others will fall into place.
I've begun to feel grown up for the first time. I paid taxes this year, and if that is not the bane of my existence then I don't know what is. I'm doing well on the acting front, but I'm also facing reality for just about the first time: I'm running out of money. I'm having to come to terms with the fact that I may not be able to support myself right now by doing what I love. That's not been the best feeling.
I'm blessed, though. It's pretty hard for me to forget that these days. As long as I remember that, the stumbling and stress and other stuff will be okay. Hope this finds everyone who reads it blessed too.
For those of you unaware, Staten Island is technically a part of New York City, but it's about as far away you can get without leaving. It's across the river, on a different landmass. We mapped out our course, spent half an hour finding the garage they had parked in, went sprinting back to the apartment to grab the keys (wouldn't have gotten far without those), and set off. The drive took FOREVER. We were supposed to be back by 2 (Liz had work at five); 2 o'clock rolled around and we were sitting in traffic on a bridge. But jamming to CDs, surviving on a canteen of Dr. Pepper and box of Cheez Its had a wonderful feeling of home to it; we weren't too distressed. Then we reached our destination. We could not find this guy's address anywhere. We saw the numbers before and after, but not his. Eventually we assumed he must be one of a cluster of apartments and we parked the car in the according parking lot. The bus came that we were to take back to Manhattan, and we were not allowed to enter, told that our Metro cards were not sufficient for this oh-so-grand 'express bus'. Liz was beginning to get concerned. The only other bus option was a local that would drop us at the ferry- no way we would make it back in time! So after some kind help from a man waiting for the NEXT express bus (which wouldn't come for half an hour), I was informed that the closest place to buy a ticket was down the Avenue at a laundromat. I went sprinting off, theme music running through my brain. I got the ticket! We made the bus! We got back less than an hour before Liz had to start work, but all in all it was okay!
That night I was informed the car had been parked in the wrong place. The next day the guy told us a note had been put on it saying it would be towed. And the next morning I found myself catching the confounded express bus, all alone, back to Staten Island.
But I succeeded. I moved that car to its proper place (the side of the road, apparently), and without the dramatic confrontation I was imagining with the tow truck man as he loaded it onto his truck at the exact moment I jumped off the bus shouting 'WAIT!! THAT'S MY CAR!!!' (Though perhaps that might have been a better ending to the story.) Still. Success felt sweet, especially since I've been riding on a bit of a wave of success lately and Amy's car being towed would have really broken that up.
Well for the most part it's been a wave of success. The night before my second outing to Staten was not a good one. Without going too much into details, it was brought glaringly back to my attention that I'm not always the nicest person, frequently to the people who mean the most to me. I know why I do it: It's a laziness thing. I spend all my time in public trying as hard as I can to please, so when I come home, or am around people I'm truly comfortable with, I stop trying as hard. But that's no excuse.
Succeeding with Amy's car was a nice bounce back, and a good start to a renewed attempt at being the man God wants me to be. That was the lesson, I suppose: When I'm working to please God, my relationship with others will fall into place.
I've begun to feel grown up for the first time. I paid taxes this year, and if that is not the bane of my existence then I don't know what is. I'm doing well on the acting front, but I'm also facing reality for just about the first time: I'm running out of money. I'm having to come to terms with the fact that I may not be able to support myself right now by doing what I love. That's not been the best feeling.
I'm blessed, though. It's pretty hard for me to forget that these days. As long as I remember that, the stumbling and stress and other stuff will be okay. Hope this finds everyone who reads it blessed too.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Feeling like a real actor
Well. It's been quite awhile since I wrote anything on here. I doubt anyone is still reading, but I'm feeling a need to share (and, I'll admit, brag). So here it goes.
Quite a bit has changed. I returned to NYC from Christmas refreshed and determined. And gone were the days of sitting around in pajamas, watching all the wonders Hulu could offer, pretending to think about doing something productive. If I've learned one thing this past year it's that idleness is the root of discontent; get up, get dressed, and do something. I took classes- on-camera acting, some dance (though I gotta admit I slacked off on that front pathetically quick), and continued voice. Was I spending money out the wazoo? Perhaps. But I was happier than I'd been in months. And somehow that translated into more audition appointments than I'd ever gotten.
Was I landing those auditions? Nope. But I kept chugging.
Still. It ain't easy getting told no (or better yet, getting told nothing) over and over again. It begins to weigh on you, no matter how active you force yourself to be. And after three appointments in a row for which you especially prepared and were excited, and then get told 'That's all we need' before you even finish your material... Well, let's just say the depressed actor texts were beginning to be sent to Mom again.
And then I walked into the Richmond Shepherd theater to audition for The Wedding Play. From the first moment it seemed special. I started to read the sides they'd sent me, and then was cut off halfway through, 'Well crap, he hates me.' racing through my brain. But instead I heard: "I really love what you're doing, but I honestly think you're more right for the lead."
"You know," I said, "I actually thought the same thing." Big laughs from that one.
So I went back out and looked over the sides for the lead. I went back in, read, and walked out feeling better about an audition than I had since my very first. Three callbacks later, I had the part.
Not long after I jetsetted off to Puerto Rico with my family and spent a blissful week on the beach. It is remarkable how refreshing a week out of NYC can be. I returned back in time to do a short film by a young kid named Ben Konigsberg- He's fifteen. He's also amazing. Really. He understands how to make movies, how to talk to actors, and his script was retardedly ambitious- and he lived up to that ambition! Was a bit intimidating for newbie like me; I learned alot this past weekend. And I have no doubt that I worked with someone who WILL be a professional director one day.
And then I went to the first rehearsal of my play, rejoiced over my awesome cast and director. I think it's gonna be really funny. I can't wait to keep working on it. I've really felt like a real actor for the first time this weekend.
Life is good. God is good. I'm humbled, and determined to give it my all. I guess I did learn another thing this past year: Keep on believing.
Quite a bit has changed. I returned to NYC from Christmas refreshed and determined. And gone were the days of sitting around in pajamas, watching all the wonders Hulu could offer, pretending to think about doing something productive. If I've learned one thing this past year it's that idleness is the root of discontent; get up, get dressed, and do something. I took classes- on-camera acting, some dance (though I gotta admit I slacked off on that front pathetically quick), and continued voice. Was I spending money out the wazoo? Perhaps. But I was happier than I'd been in months. And somehow that translated into more audition appointments than I'd ever gotten.
Was I landing those auditions? Nope. But I kept chugging.
Still. It ain't easy getting told no (or better yet, getting told nothing) over and over again. It begins to weigh on you, no matter how active you force yourself to be. And after three appointments in a row for which you especially prepared and were excited, and then get told 'That's all we need' before you even finish your material... Well, let's just say the depressed actor texts were beginning to be sent to Mom again.
And then I walked into the Richmond Shepherd theater to audition for The Wedding Play. From the first moment it seemed special. I started to read the sides they'd sent me, and then was cut off halfway through, 'Well crap, he hates me.' racing through my brain. But instead I heard: "I really love what you're doing, but I honestly think you're more right for the lead."
"You know," I said, "I actually thought the same thing." Big laughs from that one.
So I went back out and looked over the sides for the lead. I went back in, read, and walked out feeling better about an audition than I had since my very first. Three callbacks later, I had the part.
Not long after I jetsetted off to Puerto Rico with my family and spent a blissful week on the beach. It is remarkable how refreshing a week out of NYC can be. I returned back in time to do a short film by a young kid named Ben Konigsberg- He's fifteen. He's also amazing. Really. He understands how to make movies, how to talk to actors, and his script was retardedly ambitious- and he lived up to that ambition! Was a bit intimidating for newbie like me; I learned alot this past weekend. And I have no doubt that I worked with someone who WILL be a professional director one day.
And then I went to the first rehearsal of my play, rejoiced over my awesome cast and director. I think it's gonna be really funny. I can't wait to keep working on it. I've really felt like a real actor for the first time this weekend.
Life is good. God is good. I'm humbled, and determined to give it my all. I guess I did learn another thing this past year: Keep on believing.
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