Can't really describe this month as sweet. Not yet, at least. But it is starting out, well, semi-sweet. Yes, kinda like those chocolate chips you add to cookie dough.
The title is actually from a song by the '80s R&B group, The Deele, which is also where Babyface and L.A. Reid started. It's a great song, by the way. If you like Babyface, you must listen to this song.
I've been at my new job for a little over a month now. Haven't been able to keep this updated because there are many restrictions placed on computer usage at this office. That's what happens, though. You get into a corporate environment, and you find out they actually hired someone who monitors your computer usage. Not only that, but they'll keep track of how long you talk on the phone, and what numbers you are calling.
I can't complain about this new job. At all. It's right in the heart of Old Town Pasadena, which means I can walk to hundreds of places to eat, and spends hundreds of dollars doing it. Not to mention the fact that I can also spends hundreds more by shopping at some of my favorite clothing shops: the Gap, Banana Republic, Armani A/X. I even have the opportunity to shop at places I don't normally go: Crate & Barrel, Pottery Barn, Urban Outfitters.
This all reminds me of the time I used to sell men's clothing in Seattle at Southcenter Mall. Every paycheck went to buying more clothes. I never saved a dime. Which is what I'm doing now. I'm eating and wearing all my weekly wages. There's no end in sight to it. In fact, after getting sick of the stores in Old Town, I found out I could walk a few more blocks to get to the Paseo-Colorado shopping mall where there's a Macy's and a DSW, which I think stands for Designer Shoe Warehouse. Just bought a new pair of shoes there, in fact. I'll be going back there often. I even signed up for a frequent shopper card. I get $25 credit every time I spend $200 (accumulated) there.
Oh, and then I got a mailer that there's a sale coming up at Macy's this Thursday. Can't miss that one. I'm going on my lunch break. I'm in big trouble already!
I don't know what this is. I mean, 8 months ago, I was a starving artist/freelancer. Barely making ends meet with my $350 a week in unemployment compensation. I'd buy maybe one new piece of clothing a month. Now, I'm doing it every week, sometimes twice a week. And if I skip one week, you can bet I'll make up for it the next week.
Last weekend, I went to IKEA and bought new shelves and lamps. What the hell? I've become a compulsive shopper!
As for the acting, I was pondering my future. I mean, going to auditions from Pasadena is a bitch! But what's weird, though, is they encourage such outside interests. Several of the folks in my department are in the arts. One has a one-woman show next week. Another does voice-overs. And one does stand-up comedy. I actually "belong" by being an actor. If I book a gig, they'll have no problem with it. It's crazy! I feel I'm working at artist heaven! Two-hour lunch to go to an audition? Sure, but record only one hour for lunch. What? That's insane!
This month, I realized I've come full circle. I quit a full-time job about 6 years ago in order to become a writer and an actor. I've established that life, and now I'm doing that AND working full-time. I think I've beaten the system. I'm Neo. I'm the protagonists in most of Ayn Rand's books. I'm ME!
Now, if I can only stop shopping.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
A Phone Call
Hey, I just got a call from one of the instructors of my Cold Tofu class. It looks like I've been invited to join the next level, which is the lab class.
I guess my delusions weren't so off after all....
I guess my delusions weren't so off after all....
Got Home Early
I left the office today around 5:30. I was running out of steam and, also, running out of stuff to do. So, I got on the 110 South and headed home. Passed through Chinatown easily and onto the 101 Hollywood freeway. Wow, that was a breeze. I need to leave work at 5:30 every day. I got home in probably less than 20 minutes, from start to finish. Amazing.
I decided to use my extra time to go take a walk down Sunset Blvd. and visit a store I've been wanting to shop ever since I moved to Hollywood: DNA Clothing Company. Halfway there, I passed the Guitar Center and made a mental note to take a peek on my way back.
The store was empty and soon I began gathering an armload of stuff to try on. This place used to be my favorite store when I used to shop it in the Venice Beach area on Rose Street. They always had outlet store prices on some really cool shit.
Today, it wasn't much different. It had been about 8 years since I last shopped the Venice Beach store. Some really cool shit at outlet prices. I ended up buying a T-shirt and a retro-looking sweater.
On the return trip down Sunset, I passed by a young black girl who looked familiar. In fact, it took me 2 whole seconds to figure out where I had seen her: at the bus stop in front of Ralph's, sitting next to her friend or brother. The only reasons I had remembered her was because she was looking pretty fly, and she must've been only about 13. Her friend/brother couldn't have been older than 10. For a 13-year-old, she was unusually well-endowed on top, or so it seemed. Anyway, all I remember was it struck me as odd. This young, skinny little girl with a shapely top.
I stopped into a pizza restaurant I had been wanting to try: Ruffalo's. There were a couple of them in the area and I always thought about going in to try my favorite pizza combination: salami and fresh tomatoes. I ordered a Beck's while I waited for the pizza and the lady instead brought me a Peroni, which I learned is an imported Italian beer. Embarrassed, she quickly suggested she would bring me a Beck's, but I insisted on trying the Peroni.
It was slightly sweet and tangy at the same time. It definitely had something Italian about it. But the lady was right. It most resembled a Heineken, especially that skunky aftertaste.
I decided to enjoy half the pizza at the restaurant, and so sat down near a TV and watched Entertainment Tonight and the Hollywood Insider. It's funny about these shows. I can watch one episode a month, and never feel like I'm missing anything.
On the way back, I passed by the young black girl, once again. She had already gone up and down the street. Sure enough, her brother/friend was sitting at the bus stop, her green and red jacket over his lap. He looked worried, as if some cop or bad man were going to give him a hard time; maybe even arrest him.
I felt bad for this young boy, more so than for the young girl. I don't know why. I think this boy saw this girl on the street and felt sorry for her. This girl decided to take him along and keep her company. Either that, or this boy was actually her younger brother, and he was there to make sure nobody hurt her older sister.
Damn, it makes me feel crunchy inside. Mostly because I don't really know what I could do to help them. Obviously, I could do something. But what that something is, I just don't know. Because I just don't want to do the wrong thing, and there's so many wrong things I can probably do.
The only thing I could really come up with was to give the boy some money and tell him to tell his sister to get off the street. I doubt that would send them any sort of message though. Because I'm still giving them what they're after, and probably not enough to make a difference.
Hopefully, tomorrow, I'll get off work at a regular hour, and not have so much time to go shopping on Sunset.
I decided to use my extra time to go take a walk down Sunset Blvd. and visit a store I've been wanting to shop ever since I moved to Hollywood: DNA Clothing Company. Halfway there, I passed the Guitar Center and made a mental note to take a peek on my way back.
The store was empty and soon I began gathering an armload of stuff to try on. This place used to be my favorite store when I used to shop it in the Venice Beach area on Rose Street. They always had outlet store prices on some really cool shit.
Today, it wasn't much different. It had been about 8 years since I last shopped the Venice Beach store. Some really cool shit at outlet prices. I ended up buying a T-shirt and a retro-looking sweater.
On the return trip down Sunset, I passed by a young black girl who looked familiar. In fact, it took me 2 whole seconds to figure out where I had seen her: at the bus stop in front of Ralph's, sitting next to her friend or brother. The only reasons I had remembered her was because she was looking pretty fly, and she must've been only about 13. Her friend/brother couldn't have been older than 10. For a 13-year-old, she was unusually well-endowed on top, or so it seemed. Anyway, all I remember was it struck me as odd. This young, skinny little girl with a shapely top.
I stopped into a pizza restaurant I had been wanting to try: Ruffalo's. There were a couple of them in the area and I always thought about going in to try my favorite pizza combination: salami and fresh tomatoes. I ordered a Beck's while I waited for the pizza and the lady instead brought me a Peroni, which I learned is an imported Italian beer. Embarrassed, she quickly suggested she would bring me a Beck's, but I insisted on trying the Peroni.
It was slightly sweet and tangy at the same time. It definitely had something Italian about it. But the lady was right. It most resembled a Heineken, especially that skunky aftertaste.
I decided to enjoy half the pizza at the restaurant, and so sat down near a TV and watched Entertainment Tonight and the Hollywood Insider. It's funny about these shows. I can watch one episode a month, and never feel like I'm missing anything.
On the way back, I passed by the young black girl, once again. She had already gone up and down the street. Sure enough, her brother/friend was sitting at the bus stop, her green and red jacket over his lap. He looked worried, as if some cop or bad man were going to give him a hard time; maybe even arrest him.
I felt bad for this young boy, more so than for the young girl. I don't know why. I think this boy saw this girl on the street and felt sorry for her. This girl decided to take him along and keep her company. Either that, or this boy was actually her younger brother, and he was there to make sure nobody hurt her older sister.
Damn, it makes me feel crunchy inside. Mostly because I don't really know what I could do to help them. Obviously, I could do something. But what that something is, I just don't know. Because I just don't want to do the wrong thing, and there's so many wrong things I can probably do.
The only thing I could really come up with was to give the boy some money and tell him to tell his sister to get off the street. I doubt that would send them any sort of message though. Because I'm still giving them what they're after, and probably not enough to make a difference.
Hopefully, tomorrow, I'll get off work at a regular hour, and not have so much time to go shopping on Sunset.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Studios
Don't know if I can do this justice, but I looked at my dashboard today, and I noticed I've been to three of Hollywood's major studios for different reasons. (I've got three different vehicle passes for three different studios on the top of my dash.)
On Wednesday, of course, went to Disney, which owns ABC. For those of you outside of this area, Disney is all over Burbank, and I went to one of their many buildings.
On Friday, I had a meeting with my short film group. I probably haven't mentioned this before, but some folks from my improv class started a short film group called Guy in the Corner Productions. During the first meeting, around Venice Beach, a guy was in the corner of this coffee shop, listening to our brainstorming session. So, we called the group you-know-what.
The meeting took place on the Paramount lot, in the Jerry Lewis building. A girl from our group, apparently, is interning or working (I'm not sure which) at Paramount and we got to use one of their conference rooms. It's actually a cool environment for this sort of thing. More on that later.
That night, a guy was listening in on our meeting on the speakerphone. I didn't know who this guy was, but he was talking like he was actually there, giving feedback here and there. After the meeting, he suggested a "meet and greet" at his office, which is on the Universal/NBC lot in Studio City. So, at 9:30pm, a few of us went there for a "drive on," which means they give the security guard your name and they take your ID and let you drive onto the lot. We had to have one for the Paramount meeting, too.
We went upstairs of the 5225 building, otherwise known as the Owens Bradley building, and had a short meeting in the conference room that is normally saved for the folks who do "Crossing Jordan." I like this show, especially the woman who plays Jordan, who also was on "Law & Order" for a number of years.
The guy we met, it turns out, was a PA on the show. Actually, the correct terminology is Office PA, which apparently is a step higher than production PA.
You know, really, there's a lot of bullshit with these titles, and the guy admitted that. But he said he met a guy who said he worked on "ER," but really was just a production PA, and not a head production PA. Lot of bullshit, I tell ya.
I parked in the space reserved for the production designer of "Crossing Jordan." Then we had our meeting with this real geek of a guy who admitted he was just there to make the contacts. Other than that, he spends 16 hours a day in the office, often going in on weekends.
That night, we decided to meet the next day, which was Saturday. We went in at 1 p.m., again getting the drive-on credentials, and I parked in Ron Howard's spot at the Imagine area. Didn't know I was parking there at the time, but a tree happened to provide shade from the afternoon sun, so I took it.
A tram from Universal Studios Amusement Park drove by and I waved the obligatory wave to them, much to their excitement. (I've been on one of these and believe me, it's exciting when one of the execs on the lot waves to you.)
We then went in to the downstairs lobby and sat at a coffee table and had a 4-hour writers' meeting. It was actually very productive and we hammered out the "beats" for the first half of the short.
At 5, I had to go and get ready for my Cold Tofu appearance at 7:30, so we adjourned the meeting, which eventually took place upstairs in the "Crossing Jordan" office, just outside of the conference room we were in the night before.
There's not much to this office, really. Just a bunch of offices. Lots of offices. No cubicles. A secretary's desk. Many posters, awards, dry erase boards announcing the week's accomplishments such as moving up in the ratings. At some point, I went to the bathroom and noticed there was a shower in it. Apparently, a lot of people spend nights there.
Throughout the afternoon, a lot of the staff from "Crossing Jordan" brings their relatives and friends there for little tours and to show off. We saw about 7 people who were doing this. The guy we were there with kept explaining to the visiting staff that we were just waiting for some friends before heading off to lunch. Anyway, that was the story. We got a lot of work done, and hammered out the first half of the outline for our short. This guy (who works for "Crossing Jordan" as an office PA) is actually pretty good at outlining these things. I guess he sits in on a lot of these sessions. So, we got a lot done, in a short amount of time.
I think I liked the Paramount lot the best. I actually worked there last summer on a Ford commercial in the New York lot, and the entire studio really feels like a studio. Universal looks like an amusement park, and it seems the staff at Universal agrees. Every few minutes, a tram passes by, often playing some theme song for a famous movie, always at the same exact spot.
Then I went home, showered, took some herbs to make me feel spiritual (can't really explain this right now), and then drove to the Little Tokyo area where we have our Cold Tofu appearances. I always check the sigalert.com website to see how traffic was doing on the 101 freeway. It was bad, but getting better somewhere around Sunset.
I got on the freeway around 6:32, but was supposed to be at the Cold Tofu place at 6:30. Who cares? I'll be ready when I have to be, I thought. Sure enough, once I got there, I waited for about 20 minutes before we all went into warm-ups.
The performance was up and down. I had one really good scene. I'm tempted to say "great scene," but who am I kidding? It was really good, and I'm satisfied with that. However, I had one really mediocre scene which I'm still thinking about.
After the show, we went to Little Tokyo for food and libations. But at some point, I excused myself to head to Koreatown where my friends were entertaining some nice Korean girls. A few hours later, and $160 shorter, I left the parking lot. I didn't even get so much as a kiss from one of the girls. But that's to be expected. I didn't even get a phone number.
Now I'm home, exhausted, but not quite enough to pass out. I had a heckuva day. Writing, performing -- oh, and I bought tires from Costco.com -- and hanging out with some lovely women.
All in all, it wasn't a bad day.
On Wednesday, of course, went to Disney, which owns ABC. For those of you outside of this area, Disney is all over Burbank, and I went to one of their many buildings.
On Friday, I had a meeting with my short film group. I probably haven't mentioned this before, but some folks from my improv class started a short film group called Guy in the Corner Productions. During the first meeting, around Venice Beach, a guy was in the corner of this coffee shop, listening to our brainstorming session. So, we called the group you-know-what.
The meeting took place on the Paramount lot, in the Jerry Lewis building. A girl from our group, apparently, is interning or working (I'm not sure which) at Paramount and we got to use one of their conference rooms. It's actually a cool environment for this sort of thing. More on that later.
That night, a guy was listening in on our meeting on the speakerphone. I didn't know who this guy was, but he was talking like he was actually there, giving feedback here and there. After the meeting, he suggested a "meet and greet" at his office, which is on the Universal/NBC lot in Studio City. So, at 9:30pm, a few of us went there for a "drive on," which means they give the security guard your name and they take your ID and let you drive onto the lot. We had to have one for the Paramount meeting, too.
We went upstairs of the 5225 building, otherwise known as the Owens Bradley building, and had a short meeting in the conference room that is normally saved for the folks who do "Crossing Jordan." I like this show, especially the woman who plays Jordan, who also was on "Law & Order" for a number of years.
The guy we met, it turns out, was a PA on the show. Actually, the correct terminology is Office PA, which apparently is a step higher than production PA.
You know, really, there's a lot of bullshit with these titles, and the guy admitted that. But he said he met a guy who said he worked on "ER," but really was just a production PA, and not a head production PA. Lot of bullshit, I tell ya.
I parked in the space reserved for the production designer of "Crossing Jordan." Then we had our meeting with this real geek of a guy who admitted he was just there to make the contacts. Other than that, he spends 16 hours a day in the office, often going in on weekends.
That night, we decided to meet the next day, which was Saturday. We went in at 1 p.m., again getting the drive-on credentials, and I parked in Ron Howard's spot at the Imagine area. Didn't know I was parking there at the time, but a tree happened to provide shade from the afternoon sun, so I took it.
A tram from Universal Studios Amusement Park drove by and I waved the obligatory wave to them, much to their excitement. (I've been on one of these and believe me, it's exciting when one of the execs on the lot waves to you.)
We then went in to the downstairs lobby and sat at a coffee table and had a 4-hour writers' meeting. It was actually very productive and we hammered out the "beats" for the first half of the short.
At 5, I had to go and get ready for my Cold Tofu appearance at 7:30, so we adjourned the meeting, which eventually took place upstairs in the "Crossing Jordan" office, just outside of the conference room we were in the night before.
There's not much to this office, really. Just a bunch of offices. Lots of offices. No cubicles. A secretary's desk. Many posters, awards, dry erase boards announcing the week's accomplishments such as moving up in the ratings. At some point, I went to the bathroom and noticed there was a shower in it. Apparently, a lot of people spend nights there.
Throughout the afternoon, a lot of the staff from "Crossing Jordan" brings their relatives and friends there for little tours and to show off. We saw about 7 people who were doing this. The guy we were there with kept explaining to the visiting staff that we were just waiting for some friends before heading off to lunch. Anyway, that was the story. We got a lot of work done, and hammered out the first half of the outline for our short. This guy (who works for "Crossing Jordan" as an office PA) is actually pretty good at outlining these things. I guess he sits in on a lot of these sessions. So, we got a lot done, in a short amount of time.
I think I liked the Paramount lot the best. I actually worked there last summer on a Ford commercial in the New York lot, and the entire studio really feels like a studio. Universal looks like an amusement park, and it seems the staff at Universal agrees. Every few minutes, a tram passes by, often playing some theme song for a famous movie, always at the same exact spot.
Then I went home, showered, took some herbs to make me feel spiritual (can't really explain this right now), and then drove to the Little Tokyo area where we have our Cold Tofu appearances. I always check the sigalert.com website to see how traffic was doing on the 101 freeway. It was bad, but getting better somewhere around Sunset.
I got on the freeway around 6:32, but was supposed to be at the Cold Tofu place at 6:30. Who cares? I'll be ready when I have to be, I thought. Sure enough, once I got there, I waited for about 20 minutes before we all went into warm-ups.
The performance was up and down. I had one really good scene. I'm tempted to say "great scene," but who am I kidding? It was really good, and I'm satisfied with that. However, I had one really mediocre scene which I'm still thinking about.
After the show, we went to Little Tokyo for food and libations. But at some point, I excused myself to head to Koreatown where my friends were entertaining some nice Korean girls. A few hours later, and $160 shorter, I left the parking lot. I didn't even get so much as a kiss from one of the girls. But that's to be expected. I didn't even get a phone number.
Now I'm home, exhausted, but not quite enough to pass out. I had a heckuva day. Writing, performing -- oh, and I bought tires from Costco.com -- and hanging out with some lovely women.
All in all, it wasn't a bad day.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Update
A lot has happened over the past 4 weeks. Where do I start?
I ended my contract job in hell. That was a relief. Have you ever been in hell? I've been there a few times, it seems.
Once, when I worked a summer job in a hot-ass bakery making 10,000 loaves of bread. I was 19 then.
Then there was the time I was in France with my ex. Well, it wasn't good. That's why she's my ex.
And now, there's my last contract job. Truthfully, I could've left the contract. They were expecting me to. Everyone was: my agent, the traffic manager, my supervisor, my friends, you folks reading this. Everyone. But then for some reason, I decided to trudge it out, slog through the knee-deep shit I was treading in every day. It was more an endurance test than a challenge. Maybe I was challenging my tolerance.
Today, I was told to fill in my time card for 40 hours a week, regardless of how many hours I actually put in. Apparently, it's in the budget. My supervisor told me so, and she just got a major promotion today.
I work at a big corporation that most people in America have probably heard of or even patronize. It's not my thing to reveal where I'm working at, so don't expect me to this time. But I'm so damn traumatized from my last place, I filed my last timesheet counting every single minute I wasn't in the office. They wondered why I had less than 40 hours. Okay, don't fight the system, I'm starting to understand. I guess they want to retain me for a while.
I started there the Monday after I ended my contract, which was on a Wednesday. I didn't quite have two days off. A friend/colleague of mine asked me to come in on Friday to work. I happily obliged, mostly because I'd do just about anything for her, and because I wanted to buy some new tires for my Explorer. Thanks to her, I can buy all four of them at Costco for about $500. Yeah, tires are frickin' expensive.
I've been at this new job for about 3 weeks now. The hardest part is staying awake, since the workload isn't so hard, and the damn fluorescent lights lull me to sleep. I hate cubicles. Actually, because of some back order on cubicle walls, I have to share a large cubicle with two other proofers.
Today, I went to lunch with some co-workers. It was a damn 2-hour lunch. I went back and thought about putting on my time sheet that I had a 2-hour lunch. Yesterday, I had an audition in the Westside. I work in Pasadena. It took me 90 minutes to get there and back. So, I was going to say I took a 90-minute lunch. Plus, I left work early, at 5 p.m., in order to go to an audition at ABC for a network talent showcase. Oh, that's what I wanted to mention.
A couple of days ago, I got home from work. I checked my mail and there was a check from Talent Partners, a payment processing company for the entertainment industry. I didn't know what the check was for. But whatever it was, it felt like free money. Sure enough, it was a standard reuse fee for some video footage I was in. I shot that over 3 years ago, in fact, and they're paying me a reuse fee. Damn! I wrote my agent a check for 10 percent, copied the checkstub, and sent it to them the next day. Some people wouldn't do that, but I'm just that kind of guy. They were my agents then, as they are now.
Then I sort of half-noticed I had a message on my answering machine. I don't give a shit about this answering machine because no one except about 3 people know this number and they all know how else to reach me. But this was from ABC casting, and they wanted me to read for this talent showcase audition the next day. They said where I could buy the sides.
So, I was damn excited. I didn't even submit for this showcase. I was supposed to, but blew it off. I don't know why they would call me. I don't have a resume worth bothering about. Anyway, my friend was going to pick me up in a few minutes to see a screening of "Capote" at the DGA, sponsored by the Editors' Guild.
Damn good flick, I say, even though I know squat about the author or the period. I didn't even know a female author wrote "To Kill a Mockingbird." Anyway, Phillip Seymour Hoffman is frickin' fantastic.
After the movie, I downloaded the sides and began to study the part. There were 6 pages of dialogue, all with another character. I tried to run the lines as best I could, but I knew it wasn't very good or natural. So, I got a tape recorder, read over the other character's lines, pausing (silently) enough for my lines. I then played this recording over and over, trying to get the dialogue to sound natural and memorized. I wanted to make sure I was off book for this audition, and I knew I'd have to work all day and not get a chance to work on it.
I began doing dishes, cleaning up, preparing my clothes for the next day, all while doing my lines with the tape recorder. The next day, since I had an audition around lunchtime, I had to wear something that would fit both auditions.
That's the trouble with working a day job, folks. Most actors I know can prepare all day for the audition. Me? I gotta get ready early in the morning, figure out my audition clothes, and look my best from the moment I get into my car to go to work. By the time I get to the first audition, I'm already looking worse. By the time night rolls around, I'm worn down and my clothes are wrinkled. I'm not bitching, just stating the facts.
On the way to the first audition, I played the tape and went over my lines a few times. My mind was totally on the drive, so I barely concentrated on the scene. Which is what I wanted. On the way back, I did it a few more times, being careful not to over-rehearse the scene. (It is my theory that you want to hit the audition when the lines are not quite locked into your memory, so that you have to still think it out while the lines are being said.)
Oh, the lunchtime audition was a print job for Verizon, which reminds me, I had an audition for a T-Mobile commercial the week before. I totally screwed it up. It was a sorry-ass audition. But then they called me for a callback last Friday. I had a second chance...to screw it up again. Yeah, I'm a screw-up. They liked me and I screwed it up. They gave me a second chance and I just spit it back at them. I'm a loser, okay?
So, this week, I decided to make up for that. Besides, if I did the commercial, I probably wouldn't be able to do the audition for ABC, since it was supposed to shoot this week. Also, I didn't want to get in trouble at work so early in my career there.
Anyway, I got to ABC, went up to the 9th floor, checked in, looked at my lines a few times, went to the bathroom, peed, washed off my sweaty palms, didn't even bother to fix my hair or clothes, and then went back to the waiting area. They called me, I sat down, and we went into it, full steam ahead, all pistons blowing. That guy didn't stop for nothing. It was all back-and-forth banter, bam, bam, bam.
Amazingly, I kept up with him, all the way. I had my script on my lap, but only looked down once to see where we would be starting the scene. I said thank you and walked out. I wasn't sure I had done the whole thing already, since it was so fast. Okay, maybe this guy was just an intern, and they were just going through the process for some diversity program ABC has. But still, I made a small little personal leap that night.
Later, I went to my last official Cold Tofu class. I'm officially graduated from Level 3 now. We have a performance this Saturday. I'm not really telling people about it, though. I'm still not thinking I'm worth the price of admission, which happens to be "pay what you can." Some day, though, when I think I'm worth it, I'll be telling people, and they'd better show up.
There was an evaluation of everyone in the class, and then we did some exercises in preparation for this Saturday's performance. We're doing something called 60-30-15-5. You do a scene in 60 seconds, then the same scene in 30, then 15, and then 5, each time breaking it down to just the heart of the scene for the amount of time allotted. This is fun as hell, and I think fun to watch too.
The instructors have always been vague in their evaluations of me. Not very generous of their assessment of me. But they've always had no doubt about putting me in the next level. They're not kind to me because they don't want to see me relax and stop my learning curve.
Well, at least that's what my delusions are telling me. I converse with them every day.
I ended my contract job in hell. That was a relief. Have you ever been in hell? I've been there a few times, it seems.
Once, when I worked a summer job in a hot-ass bakery making 10,000 loaves of bread. I was 19 then.
Then there was the time I was in France with my ex. Well, it wasn't good. That's why she's my ex.
And now, there's my last contract job. Truthfully, I could've left the contract. They were expecting me to. Everyone was: my agent, the traffic manager, my supervisor, my friends, you folks reading this. Everyone. But then for some reason, I decided to trudge it out, slog through the knee-deep shit I was treading in every day. It was more an endurance test than a challenge. Maybe I was challenging my tolerance.
Today, I was told to fill in my time card for 40 hours a week, regardless of how many hours I actually put in. Apparently, it's in the budget. My supervisor told me so, and she just got a major promotion today.
I work at a big corporation that most people in America have probably heard of or even patronize. It's not my thing to reveal where I'm working at, so don't expect me to this time. But I'm so damn traumatized from my last place, I filed my last timesheet counting every single minute I wasn't in the office. They wondered why I had less than 40 hours. Okay, don't fight the system, I'm starting to understand. I guess they want to retain me for a while.
I started there the Monday after I ended my contract, which was on a Wednesday. I didn't quite have two days off. A friend/colleague of mine asked me to come in on Friday to work. I happily obliged, mostly because I'd do just about anything for her, and because I wanted to buy some new tires for my Explorer. Thanks to her, I can buy all four of them at Costco for about $500. Yeah, tires are frickin' expensive.
I've been at this new job for about 3 weeks now. The hardest part is staying awake, since the workload isn't so hard, and the damn fluorescent lights lull me to sleep. I hate cubicles. Actually, because of some back order on cubicle walls, I have to share a large cubicle with two other proofers.
Today, I went to lunch with some co-workers. It was a damn 2-hour lunch. I went back and thought about putting on my time sheet that I had a 2-hour lunch. Yesterday, I had an audition in the Westside. I work in Pasadena. It took me 90 minutes to get there and back. So, I was going to say I took a 90-minute lunch. Plus, I left work early, at 5 p.m., in order to go to an audition at ABC for a network talent showcase. Oh, that's what I wanted to mention.
A couple of days ago, I got home from work. I checked my mail and there was a check from Talent Partners, a payment processing company for the entertainment industry. I didn't know what the check was for. But whatever it was, it felt like free money. Sure enough, it was a standard reuse fee for some video footage I was in. I shot that over 3 years ago, in fact, and they're paying me a reuse fee. Damn! I wrote my agent a check for 10 percent, copied the checkstub, and sent it to them the next day. Some people wouldn't do that, but I'm just that kind of guy. They were my agents then, as they are now.
Then I sort of half-noticed I had a message on my answering machine. I don't give a shit about this answering machine because no one except about 3 people know this number and they all know how else to reach me. But this was from ABC casting, and they wanted me to read for this talent showcase audition the next day. They said where I could buy the sides.
So, I was damn excited. I didn't even submit for this showcase. I was supposed to, but blew it off. I don't know why they would call me. I don't have a resume worth bothering about. Anyway, my friend was going to pick me up in a few minutes to see a screening of "Capote" at the DGA, sponsored by the Editors' Guild.
Damn good flick, I say, even though I know squat about the author or the period. I didn't even know a female author wrote "To Kill a Mockingbird." Anyway, Phillip Seymour Hoffman is frickin' fantastic.
After the movie, I downloaded the sides and began to study the part. There were 6 pages of dialogue, all with another character. I tried to run the lines as best I could, but I knew it wasn't very good or natural. So, I got a tape recorder, read over the other character's lines, pausing (silently) enough for my lines. I then played this recording over and over, trying to get the dialogue to sound natural and memorized. I wanted to make sure I was off book for this audition, and I knew I'd have to work all day and not get a chance to work on it.
I began doing dishes, cleaning up, preparing my clothes for the next day, all while doing my lines with the tape recorder. The next day, since I had an audition around lunchtime, I had to wear something that would fit both auditions.
That's the trouble with working a day job, folks. Most actors I know can prepare all day for the audition. Me? I gotta get ready early in the morning, figure out my audition clothes, and look my best from the moment I get into my car to go to work. By the time I get to the first audition, I'm already looking worse. By the time night rolls around, I'm worn down and my clothes are wrinkled. I'm not bitching, just stating the facts.
On the way to the first audition, I played the tape and went over my lines a few times. My mind was totally on the drive, so I barely concentrated on the scene. Which is what I wanted. On the way back, I did it a few more times, being careful not to over-rehearse the scene. (It is my theory that you want to hit the audition when the lines are not quite locked into your memory, so that you have to still think it out while the lines are being said.)
Oh, the lunchtime audition was a print job for Verizon, which reminds me, I had an audition for a T-Mobile commercial the week before. I totally screwed it up. It was a sorry-ass audition. But then they called me for a callback last Friday. I had a second chance...to screw it up again. Yeah, I'm a screw-up. They liked me and I screwed it up. They gave me a second chance and I just spit it back at them. I'm a loser, okay?
So, this week, I decided to make up for that. Besides, if I did the commercial, I probably wouldn't be able to do the audition for ABC, since it was supposed to shoot this week. Also, I didn't want to get in trouble at work so early in my career there.
Anyway, I got to ABC, went up to the 9th floor, checked in, looked at my lines a few times, went to the bathroom, peed, washed off my sweaty palms, didn't even bother to fix my hair or clothes, and then went back to the waiting area. They called me, I sat down, and we went into it, full steam ahead, all pistons blowing. That guy didn't stop for nothing. It was all back-and-forth banter, bam, bam, bam.
Amazingly, I kept up with him, all the way. I had my script on my lap, but only looked down once to see where we would be starting the scene. I said thank you and walked out. I wasn't sure I had done the whole thing already, since it was so fast. Okay, maybe this guy was just an intern, and they were just going through the process for some diversity program ABC has. But still, I made a small little personal leap that night.
Later, I went to my last official Cold Tofu class. I'm officially graduated from Level 3 now. We have a performance this Saturday. I'm not really telling people about it, though. I'm still not thinking I'm worth the price of admission, which happens to be "pay what you can." Some day, though, when I think I'm worth it, I'll be telling people, and they'd better show up.
There was an evaluation of everyone in the class, and then we did some exercises in preparation for this Saturday's performance. We're doing something called 60-30-15-5. You do a scene in 60 seconds, then the same scene in 30, then 15, and then 5, each time breaking it down to just the heart of the scene for the amount of time allotted. This is fun as hell, and I think fun to watch too.
The instructors have always been vague in their evaluations of me. Not very generous of their assessment of me. But they've always had no doubt about putting me in the next level. They're not kind to me because they don't want to see me relax and stop my learning curve.
Well, at least that's what my delusions are telling me. I converse with them every day.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Counting Down the Days
I'm down to my last two weeks of work on my 6-month contract. A friend called me today and he said I sounded a little sad about it. To be honest, I am a little sad about it. Almost from the day I started this contract, I couldn't wait to leave it, mostly because of the workload and the stupid people I work with.
But I just grit my teeth and hunkered down with the work. I've had health insurance for the last 6 months, though I had no time to actually visit a doctor's office. Hopefully, before these two weeks are up, I'll get a dentist appointment in to get some fillings changed. Wouldn't mind a full physical at a doctor's office. Haven't had one in a long, long time.
So now that it's near the end of this thing, I do believe that I may actually miss it a bit. I'll certainly miss the routine of getting up in the morning, making coffee, driving to work and having to be someplace every weekday morning at an assigned hour. Then there's the daily arguments and debates with the traffic manager. A few of these turned quite heated. Had to apologize on more than one occasion. But she had to also, at least once.
I unapologetically snapped at the Osugi lady here, at least once. As much as I hate her, I will probably miss her too. Don't know why that is, but it just is.
I just bought a new iBook computer and I'm getting it all squared away for a long vacation I hope to take. I'm looking at Asia. Maybe an all-Asia pass on Cathay-Pacific for $1200. That's a bit pricey for me, but it might be a while before I ever go back, so I might as well make a trip out of it.
So, I got some money in the bank, a new toy and a possible trip lined up. Not bad for enduring some serious pain for 6 months. If I don't work for another 6 months, I'll have unemployment covering me at $411 a week. That's enough to cover rent and pay for some expenses.
After coming back from vacation, I'm going to see if my old Hollywood film studio needs my help again. Never hurts to plan for the worst, right?
And if this current workplace should ask me back next year at even twice the rate, I'm going to say "HELL NO!!"
Aw, shoot, they just bought me lunch. Trying to butter me up, I see. Oh well... I'll just have to wait till next year before I decide what to do about this place.
But I just grit my teeth and hunkered down with the work. I've had health insurance for the last 6 months, though I had no time to actually visit a doctor's office. Hopefully, before these two weeks are up, I'll get a dentist appointment in to get some fillings changed. Wouldn't mind a full physical at a doctor's office. Haven't had one in a long, long time.
So now that it's near the end of this thing, I do believe that I may actually miss it a bit. I'll certainly miss the routine of getting up in the morning, making coffee, driving to work and having to be someplace every weekday morning at an assigned hour. Then there's the daily arguments and debates with the traffic manager. A few of these turned quite heated. Had to apologize on more than one occasion. But she had to also, at least once.
I unapologetically snapped at the Osugi lady here, at least once. As much as I hate her, I will probably miss her too. Don't know why that is, but it just is.
I just bought a new iBook computer and I'm getting it all squared away for a long vacation I hope to take. I'm looking at Asia. Maybe an all-Asia pass on Cathay-Pacific for $1200. That's a bit pricey for me, but it might be a while before I ever go back, so I might as well make a trip out of it.
So, I got some money in the bank, a new toy and a possible trip lined up. Not bad for enduring some serious pain for 6 months. If I don't work for another 6 months, I'll have unemployment covering me at $411 a week. That's enough to cover rent and pay for some expenses.
After coming back from vacation, I'm going to see if my old Hollywood film studio needs my help again. Never hurts to plan for the worst, right?
And if this current workplace should ask me back next year at even twice the rate, I'm going to say "HELL NO!!"
Aw, shoot, they just bought me lunch. Trying to butter me up, I see. Oh well... I'll just have to wait till next year before I decide what to do about this place.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Insurance
I had an audition for an insurance commercial. It's a testimonial type of spot with a guy giving a spiel as a customer. I think they wanted regular guys to go in and since I got the call after I had already gotten to work, I looked pretty regular: unshaven face, hair looking like I just woke up, a shirt that was one of my more unflattering ones. Yeah, I'm going to get this one.
Fortunately, the casting was with one of my favorite casting people. So, there tends to be some support there. If I kick ass in the audition, she would most certainly tell them I look better on most days.
I tried to memorize the script handed to us at the audition but it was just too long. Fortunately, it was written on a board in front of the camera.
The guy in the casting room was very cool and apparently he went to my college, Washington State University. He named off some professor names but I hadn't heard of them. Actually, I thought he was naming football coaches until I realized he was naming professors. These were all way before my time.
I did two auditions on tape until he said he was going to rewind the tape and told me to do it one more time. Obviously, the first two were junk. On the third, I nailed it. He knew it, I knew it. Done deal.
I shook his hand on the way out and thanked him for the third try. If nothing else, I had a great audition. Can't complain about that.
Fortunately, the casting was with one of my favorite casting people. So, there tends to be some support there. If I kick ass in the audition, she would most certainly tell them I look better on most days.
I tried to memorize the script handed to us at the audition but it was just too long. Fortunately, it was written on a board in front of the camera.
The guy in the casting room was very cool and apparently he went to my college, Washington State University. He named off some professor names but I hadn't heard of them. Actually, I thought he was naming football coaches until I realized he was naming professors. These were all way before my time.
I did two auditions on tape until he said he was going to rewind the tape and told me to do it one more time. Obviously, the first two were junk. On the third, I nailed it. He knew it, I knew it. Done deal.
I shook his hand on the way out and thanked him for the third try. If nothing else, I had a great audition. Can't complain about that.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Not Even the Half of It
Humiliation doesn't even begin to describe what I actually had to go through yesterday.
I'm wearing flip-flops and my board shorts, all prepared to take off my shirt inside the casting room. But when I get there, the lady checking us in asks me, "Are you wearing underwear underneath those?"
"Yes, I am. Uh, not very nice ones though."
"Oh, hopefully not Spongebob ones," she quipped.
"No, I left those at home."
"Well, in that case, would you mind doing the audition in your underwear? We need to see as much of your body as possible."
So, I get it. My agent said to wear a bathing suit, which I took to mean swimming trunks. But no, she meant "bathing suit" as in Speedos.
I looked around the room. It was an even split between black and white men. I was the only Asian. One guy looked to be hiding a pot belly under his loose T-shirt. I relaxed and told the lady I'd do it.
Just before I was to go in for the audition, the casting assistant directed me to undress in a hallway which was covered over by a makeshift curtain. There were two chairs there, one covered by clothes. I put my stuff down on the other and proceeded to strip down to my undies. Not nice ones, mind you, but not Spongebobs.
I know that people say that to overcome nervousness, you imagine them in their underwear. But what happens if you're the one wearing underwear?
The guy coming out of the audition room was a good-looking white guy in better shape than me. "It's all yours," he said.
I walked in, pitter-patting across the linoleum floor in my bare feet. A lady was at a computer giving instructions to the video guy behind a camera. She then got up and left the room. The guy behind the camera then instructs me to perform as if I'm a model for an art class. Stand with my hands on my side. Turn around, hands folded behind my back.
Ya know, I can't imagine what the callbacks would be like, but I'll be glad if I don't get one. Usually, there's about 6 people in those rooms, all talking as if you're a dead piece of meat on display.
When I left the audition room, the guy with the pot belly was waiting outside in the hallway, ready to go in. "It's all yours," I said.
I'm wearing flip-flops and my board shorts, all prepared to take off my shirt inside the casting room. But when I get there, the lady checking us in asks me, "Are you wearing underwear underneath those?"
"Yes, I am. Uh, not very nice ones though."
"Oh, hopefully not Spongebob ones," she quipped.
"No, I left those at home."
"Well, in that case, would you mind doing the audition in your underwear? We need to see as much of your body as possible."
So, I get it. My agent said to wear a bathing suit, which I took to mean swimming trunks. But no, she meant "bathing suit" as in Speedos.
I looked around the room. It was an even split between black and white men. I was the only Asian. One guy looked to be hiding a pot belly under his loose T-shirt. I relaxed and told the lady I'd do it.
Just before I was to go in for the audition, the casting assistant directed me to undress in a hallway which was covered over by a makeshift curtain. There were two chairs there, one covered by clothes. I put my stuff down on the other and proceeded to strip down to my undies. Not nice ones, mind you, but not Spongebobs.
I know that people say that to overcome nervousness, you imagine them in their underwear. But what happens if you're the one wearing underwear?
The guy coming out of the audition room was a good-looking white guy in better shape than me. "It's all yours," he said.
I walked in, pitter-patting across the linoleum floor in my bare feet. A lady was at a computer giving instructions to the video guy behind a camera. She then got up and left the room. The guy behind the camera then instructs me to perform as if I'm a model for an art class. Stand with my hands on my side. Turn around, hands folded behind my back.
Ya know, I can't imagine what the callbacks would be like, but I'll be glad if I don't get one. Usually, there's about 6 people in those rooms, all talking as if you're a dead piece of meat on display.
When I left the audition room, the guy with the pot belly was waiting outside in the hallway, ready to go in. "It's all yours," I said.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Humiliation
I finally have a commercial audition tomorrow and I've been told I need to wear a bathing suit. OH SHIT!!
What to do, besides losing 5 pounds overnight? I guess I'll have to go in and put my best skinny face on.
I actually did a couple of commercials in a bathing suit, and I looked fat and out of shape. Why do they cast me? Just to humiliate me?
That's it. It's a huge conspiracy by the casting people to humiliate me. I knew it!!
Last week, I had an audition for a Japanese chef. This was for a phone company, I think.
Man, I'm stinking in terms of callbacks and bookings this year. Must be a slump I'm having. I haven't booked a big job or even a little one, for that matter. Just print jobs. That's it. And I haven't booked one of those in several months.
Just wish I could book something where I don't have to wear a bathing suit.
What to do, besides losing 5 pounds overnight? I guess I'll have to go in and put my best skinny face on.
I actually did a couple of commercials in a bathing suit, and I looked fat and out of shape. Why do they cast me? Just to humiliate me?
That's it. It's a huge conspiracy by the casting people to humiliate me. I knew it!!
Last week, I had an audition for a Japanese chef. This was for a phone company, I think.
Man, I'm stinking in terms of callbacks and bookings this year. Must be a slump I'm having. I haven't booked a big job or even a little one, for that matter. Just print jobs. That's it. And I haven't booked one of those in several months.
Just wish I could book something where I don't have to wear a bathing suit.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Got Greedy
So yesterday after the show, Aaron, our instructor, gave me and the two girls some notes about our performance. He mentioned that I was doing what I usually do: think too much.
But I have to say that, yesterday, I wasn't thinking too much. I was purely just enjoying the moment. I was present, the audience was there with me. I couldn't ask for a better drug. Okay, so I overindulged a bit at times. I got greedy for it.
Today, my friend said that Aaron told her I was "great." HA! Didn't know I was "great." But damn, if that ain't a nice thing to hear every once in a while.
But I have to say that, yesterday, I wasn't thinking too much. I was purely just enjoying the moment. I was present, the audience was there with me. I couldn't ask for a better drug. Okay, so I overindulged a bit at times. I got greedy for it.
Today, my friend said that Aaron told her I was "great." HA! Didn't know I was "great." But damn, if that ain't a nice thing to hear every once in a while.
A Good Show
Yesterday, I performed live in front of a young and, at first, difficult audience. And I had a good show. Not a great show, but a good one.
Personally, I'll take a hundred good shows over one great show, because that, in my book, equals greatness.
I did a couple of improv skits with two girls from my class. The show was called Tuesday Night Cafe and it happens twice a month outside the entrance to the East West Players Theatre. Next door is a cafe that serves food and beer, so I guess that's where the cafe part comes in.
We were the first ones on. I mean, do you know how tough that is? Fortunately, I was so in the present moment, I didn't have time to think about anything. And I realized that that was the definition of a good show for me: just being in the present moment. It's easy to get out of that, too. You make one stupid comment and the comment starts to replay in your mind, and then you're fucked. Might as well call it a night.
One of the girls I performed with has a tendency to argue and raise her voice on stage, no matter what we're improvving. The other can just stop right in the middle because she's uncomfortable or too self-conscious. I often talk about sex, which tends to be my crutch. So, we ended up doing three skits, and in each one, we talked about sex. The girl who gets self-conscious got a bit self-conscious during one skit, but I managed to keep the audience in on the fact that I was aware of it also.
The other girl argued and raised her voice during one skit, but I managed to make my interaction work with it. And I really think that because the audience was young and, at first, difficult, the fact that she raised her voice and argued really got their attention. So, in short, that worked too.
But you can't do good, entertaining improv unless you stay in the moment. I had a good show. I hope to have 99 more just like it.
Personally, I'll take a hundred good shows over one great show, because that, in my book, equals greatness.
I did a couple of improv skits with two girls from my class. The show was called Tuesday Night Cafe and it happens twice a month outside the entrance to the East West Players Theatre. Next door is a cafe that serves food and beer, so I guess that's where the cafe part comes in.
We were the first ones on. I mean, do you know how tough that is? Fortunately, I was so in the present moment, I didn't have time to think about anything. And I realized that that was the definition of a good show for me: just being in the present moment. It's easy to get out of that, too. You make one stupid comment and the comment starts to replay in your mind, and then you're fucked. Might as well call it a night.
One of the girls I performed with has a tendency to argue and raise her voice on stage, no matter what we're improvving. The other can just stop right in the middle because she's uncomfortable or too self-conscious. I often talk about sex, which tends to be my crutch. So, we ended up doing three skits, and in each one, we talked about sex. The girl who gets self-conscious got a bit self-conscious during one skit, but I managed to keep the audience in on the fact that I was aware of it also.
The other girl argued and raised her voice during one skit, but I managed to make my interaction work with it. And I really think that because the audience was young and, at first, difficult, the fact that she raised her voice and argued really got their attention. So, in short, that worked too.
But you can't do good, entertaining improv unless you stay in the moment. I had a good show. I hope to have 99 more just like it.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Community Service Award
Cold Tofu just got a community service award from the Nisei Week Foundation. There was an awards dinner last night in Little Tokyo at the New Otani Hotel. (For the those of you outside of L.A., "New" is part of the hotel's name.) I went and had a great time with some other Cold Tofuers, most of whom are either a core member or in the lab class, which comes after level three.
I know it all seems like another bureaucracy, but it's really a combination of that and a meritocracy. There are people who have a serious desire to improve themselves through improv, but probably shouldn't be on stage in front of an audience. If powers of authority like you and you've gone through the Tofu system, you might be asked to be an associate. Which means you're being groomed for the core group.
I love the bureaucratic system. It's really an easy system to both enter and climb, as long as you play along with the rules. I wanted to be a DJ at one of my college's many radio stations. You would apply for a timeslot, but on the application form, it said that those who did volunteer work would be favored for a slot. This actually translates to: If you don't do the grunt work, you're not getting a slot.
The first time I applied, I didn't get a spot. The second time I applied, I had done some grunt work such as cleaning the studio, and got a prime Friday night spot from 10 pm to 2 am. ( On a side note, four hours is a long time to be playing music. Especially if you don't like most of the station's music selection. I had my friends send me tapes of good R&B, and I actually developed a following among my school's football players and some girls in the Hawaii club. In fact, they'd often call to request a song.)
It seems every theatre group has some sort of bureaucracy, and that drives a lot of my actor friends crazy. They don't want to do what they consider bullshit. But I think that's why they got into acting in the first place: They couldn't deal with office bullshit, which tends to be, yes, bureaucratic. Consequently, I see them always on the fringes of the acting community, but never having a sense of community or belonging.
The point of all this is that, yesterday, after 13 years in L.A., I've finally found a sense of community and belonging. It's a wonderful thing, and something I haven't felt since living in South Central where my neighbors actually cared if I was alive, or had eaten dinner.
But this also means that the wanderlust in me will probably strike again. And then I'll leave the nest, and find another home in the world. It's just something I tend to do. Lately, I've been thinking about France. Then again, it might just be the Groundlings.
I know it all seems like another bureaucracy, but it's really a combination of that and a meritocracy. There are people who have a serious desire to improve themselves through improv, but probably shouldn't be on stage in front of an audience. If powers of authority like you and you've gone through the Tofu system, you might be asked to be an associate. Which means you're being groomed for the core group.
I love the bureaucratic system. It's really an easy system to both enter and climb, as long as you play along with the rules. I wanted to be a DJ at one of my college's many radio stations. You would apply for a timeslot, but on the application form, it said that those who did volunteer work would be favored for a slot. This actually translates to: If you don't do the grunt work, you're not getting a slot.
The first time I applied, I didn't get a spot. The second time I applied, I had done some grunt work such as cleaning the studio, and got a prime Friday night spot from 10 pm to 2 am. ( On a side note, four hours is a long time to be playing music. Especially if you don't like most of the station's music selection. I had my friends send me tapes of good R&B, and I actually developed a following among my school's football players and some girls in the Hawaii club. In fact, they'd often call to request a song.)
It seems every theatre group has some sort of bureaucracy, and that drives a lot of my actor friends crazy. They don't want to do what they consider bullshit. But I think that's why they got into acting in the first place: They couldn't deal with office bullshit, which tends to be, yes, bureaucratic. Consequently, I see them always on the fringes of the acting community, but never having a sense of community or belonging.
The point of all this is that, yesterday, after 13 years in L.A., I've finally found a sense of community and belonging. It's a wonderful thing, and something I haven't felt since living in South Central where my neighbors actually cared if I was alive, or had eaten dinner.
But this also means that the wanderlust in me will probably strike again. And then I'll leave the nest, and find another home in the world. It's just something I tend to do. Lately, I've been thinking about France. Then again, it might just be the Groundlings.
Friday, August 12, 2005
Thursday, August 11, 2005
The Absurdity of It All
Just about every afternoon at work, I have this Rosencrantz & Gildenstern-like conversation with the traffic manager, whom proceeds to ask me if I will come in a half hour early.
I then proceed to say, "Sure, I can do that. No problem."
She says, "Are you sure you can get up?"
"Absolutely. In fact, I wouldn't mind getting off work early tomorrow anyway. So what time would you like me to come in? 8:30, 9:00, 9:30."
And she says, "9:00 would be lovely."
To which I answer, "9:00 it is." And each day, I arrive at around the same time: 9:45, give or take 5 or 10 minutes. Later, the traffic manager will ask me, "What happened to 9:00?" And I'll answer something like, "I tried. I really did. But there was too many cars on the road. It just wasn't happening."
And she proceeds to say, "Why do I even bother asking you to come in early?" But every afternoon, she comes into my office, asking if I will "please come in early."
I hate to disappoint her. She seems so sincere about the urgency. But frankly, and this is so not Rosencrantz & Gildenstern, but I really don't give a damn about what time I come in. I don't say that, but the traffic manager already knows that about me. And so every day, we have that stupid little exchange, and it all seems to be a perfect part of our stupid daily lives.
I then proceed to say, "Sure, I can do that. No problem."
She says, "Are you sure you can get up?"
"Absolutely. In fact, I wouldn't mind getting off work early tomorrow anyway. So what time would you like me to come in? 8:30, 9:00, 9:30."
And she says, "9:00 would be lovely."
To which I answer, "9:00 it is." And each day, I arrive at around the same time: 9:45, give or take 5 or 10 minutes. Later, the traffic manager will ask me, "What happened to 9:00?" And I'll answer something like, "I tried. I really did. But there was too many cars on the road. It just wasn't happening."
And she proceeds to say, "Why do I even bother asking you to come in early?" But every afternoon, she comes into my office, asking if I will "please come in early."
I hate to disappoint her. She seems so sincere about the urgency. But frankly, and this is so not Rosencrantz & Gildenstern, but I really don't give a damn about what time I come in. I don't say that, but the traffic manager already knows that about me. And so every day, we have that stupid little exchange, and it all seems to be a perfect part of our stupid daily lives.
Level 3
Just started the Cold Tofu Level 3 workshop yesterday. It was a small turnout -- about 5 people -- but apparently the entire Level 2 class except for one person is returning. Plus, we gained one guy from a different class.
All in all, it was a fun class. Did some new exercises. But not much to report, except that I got to do some of my characters due to someone suggesting that my character in a scene had schizophrenia. And that my specific kind had to due with multiple personalities. I only got through three, but it was fun to do and the audience (the rest of the class) seemed to enjoy it.
Afterward, we went to Little Tokyo for a quick bite to eat, and on my way there, I ran into some folks I did a movie with last year. They were all gathered at a place called Cosmos, which is a Japanese karaoke bar. (I wanted to say it was a Japanese dive bar, but that's only how it looks from the outside.)
After my quick bite with my classmates, I rejoined the cast and crew of the movie and proceeded to drink too much beer and talk way too much about my personal life. I had drank so much, I had to get food, so ended up staying out till past 2 am, and this on a "school night." So much for getting in work early tomorrow.
All in all, it was a fun class. Did some new exercises. But not much to report, except that I got to do some of my characters due to someone suggesting that my character in a scene had schizophrenia. And that my specific kind had to due with multiple personalities. I only got through three, but it was fun to do and the audience (the rest of the class) seemed to enjoy it.
Afterward, we went to Little Tokyo for a quick bite to eat, and on my way there, I ran into some folks I did a movie with last year. They were all gathered at a place called Cosmos, which is a Japanese karaoke bar. (I wanted to say it was a Japanese dive bar, but that's only how it looks from the outside.)
After my quick bite with my classmates, I rejoined the cast and crew of the movie and proceeded to drink too much beer and talk way too much about my personal life. I had drank so much, I had to get food, so ended up staying out till past 2 am, and this on a "school night." So much for getting in work early tomorrow.
Monday, August 08, 2005
It Was Kinda Weird
So I just got home from my audition for Chevy. I played a construction guy and there were three other guys in the room with me. The casting guy says, "This is real easy. I'm just gonna ask you a question and I just want you to give me a short 5-second answer."
Sounds easy enough. He asks the first guy what he's gonna do in a heated situation: Start a fight or talk his way out of it. "Talk my way out of it. Of course!"
Then he turns to me. What did you do on Saturday?
I said, "Saturday? I went to a BBQ with my improv group and for some reason, this guy sits on my lap and gives me this wet ear kiss. It was kinda weird..."
The three guys around me start to shuffle in their feet. The casting guy turns to his co-worker and says, "I think you shoulda went to that BBQ." The audition continues with two more questions to the other two guys, and then we're done.
On the way out, I say to the other guys, "Hope I didn't weird you out with that story." They didn't say much.
So I'm driving home and start to do what every actor does: replay the audition over in my head. At first, I'm kinda troubled by what I said. I mean, that's kind of an odd thing to say in a Chevy audition for four construction workers.
But then I start to think about some of Chevy's commercials and there's that one really popular one with the guy singing a country tune in a truck with his buddies, but the song lyrics are from the perspective of a woman. "I feel like a woman. Whoo!" So the other guys are weirded out by it.
And then I start to think that what I had said couldn't have been scripted much better. And that the reaction on the other guys' faces must've been priceless. So I probably helped the casting guy out by getting a reaction he may have been looking for.
And then I'm driving home, thinking that if I didn't actually go to a BBQ last weekend with my improv class, that guy wouldn't have sat on my lap and given me a wet ear kiss.
Sounds easy enough. He asks the first guy what he's gonna do in a heated situation: Start a fight or talk his way out of it. "Talk my way out of it. Of course!"
Then he turns to me. What did you do on Saturday?
I said, "Saturday? I went to a BBQ with my improv group and for some reason, this guy sits on my lap and gives me this wet ear kiss. It was kinda weird..."
The three guys around me start to shuffle in their feet. The casting guy turns to his co-worker and says, "I think you shoulda went to that BBQ." The audition continues with two more questions to the other two guys, and then we're done.
On the way out, I say to the other guys, "Hope I didn't weird you out with that story." They didn't say much.
So I'm driving home and start to do what every actor does: replay the audition over in my head. At first, I'm kinda troubled by what I said. I mean, that's kind of an odd thing to say in a Chevy audition for four construction workers.
But then I start to think about some of Chevy's commercials and there's that one really popular one with the guy singing a country tune in a truck with his buddies, but the song lyrics are from the perspective of a woman. "I feel like a woman. Whoo!" So the other guys are weirded out by it.
And then I start to think that what I had said couldn't have been scripted much better. And that the reaction on the other guys' faces must've been priceless. So I probably helped the casting guy out by getting a reaction he may have been looking for.
And then I'm driving home, thinking that if I didn't actually go to a BBQ last weekend with my improv class, that guy wouldn't have sat on my lap and given me a wet ear kiss.
Summer Slumber
Apparently, the summer is a very slow time for commercials and whatnot. Today, I'm having my first commercial audition in about a month. This one's for Chevy and I'm going in as a manly construction worker. Simple enough, except I just got this short haircut and I look about 10 years younger than usual. Hopefully, by the time of my audition, I will have grown some shadow on my face.
Of course, I didn't get this call until I had already gotten to work, so I'm not exactly dressed as a construction worker. Gee, I hope they watch a lot of "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition."
Of course, I didn't get this call until I had already gotten to work, so I'm not exactly dressed as a construction worker. Gee, I hope they watch a lot of "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition."
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
No Bahamas
I didn't get cast as an extra for the Pirates of the Caribbean film. Well, actually, I didn't even go to the open call. =D My friend called and gave me a head's up on the whole scene at around 10 am that day, an hour before they were to officially start. He said he was told that if you were Asian, you would most certainly have to shave off the front part of your scalp.
Yeah, I know that sounds extreme, but it's not that bad. It's a "coolie" thing, as in the coolies that worked on the railroads in the late 1800s to early 1900s. They basically had this long pony tail that extended from where their head was shaved back about a third to halfway from their forehead.
You know, it might even become a fashion trend after this movie comes out. Who knows? Well, it probably won't. And I thought about that for about, oh, 15 seconds. I asked my friend the same question.
"Are you going to do it?"
"I don't think so."
"I didn't think so. I don't think I will either."
"Okay, see you around."
"Bye ... and thanks for the head's up."
So, no trip to the Bahamas. But you know, I would've just shaved my head after the movie ended. That's not so bad. I actually want to try that anyway. But, oh well, a lot was decided in those 15 seconds. But see? Fate can be determined in a very short amount of time. I could've went. They could've taken a picture, then decided they wanted me to have a few lines. Then those lines could've became a very important scene. And then I could've asked Mr. Depp why he didn't sing "Pure Imagination," or some updated version of it, in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
Gosh, my life could've been so much different, if only I had decided that I would shave my scalp.
Okay, time to eat my organic vanilla-flavored yogurt with apples and granola now.
Yeah, I know that sounds extreme, but it's not that bad. It's a "coolie" thing, as in the coolies that worked on the railroads in the late 1800s to early 1900s. They basically had this long pony tail that extended from where their head was shaved back about a third to halfway from their forehead.
You know, it might even become a fashion trend after this movie comes out. Who knows? Well, it probably won't. And I thought about that for about, oh, 15 seconds. I asked my friend the same question.
"Are you going to do it?"
"I don't think so."
"I didn't think so. I don't think I will either."
"Okay, see you around."
"Bye ... and thanks for the head's up."
So, no trip to the Bahamas. But you know, I would've just shaved my head after the movie ended. That's not so bad. I actually want to try that anyway. But, oh well, a lot was decided in those 15 seconds. But see? Fate can be determined in a very short amount of time. I could've went. They could've taken a picture, then decided they wanted me to have a few lines. Then those lines could've became a very important scene. And then I could've asked Mr. Depp why he didn't sing "Pure Imagination," or some updated version of it, in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
Gosh, my life could've been so much different, if only I had decided that I would shave my scalp.
Okay, time to eat my organic vanilla-flavored yogurt with apples and granola now.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Facial Hair Pt. II
It's day two of trying to, once again, grow facial hair and for some reason it doesn't seem as long or thick as before. Granted, I decided that I would just grow it all out, instead of shaving the sides and outlining the growth around my mouth. So, maybe that's why.
The girl I "pinky promised" with says she doesn't remember doing it. See? We didn't sign or copy it, so there's no proof. That's why she doesn't remember. I also think she was pretty drunk that night.
On Saturday night, I'm going to an '80s-theme party and I was thinking of going as Don Johnson ala Miami Vice. Only thing is, the timing's not right. I'm going to shave my cheeks on Saturday morning. But on Saturday night, I need the 5 o'clock shadow. What to do? WHAT TO DO???
I'll let you in on a secret. To gain the ultimate 5 o'clock shadow, you use a blade, not an electric razor, and you only shave with the direction of the hair growth, not against it. So, I'll do a down swipe of my cheeks on Saturday morning, keeping the goatee and mustache area. Then after the audition, I'll do a down swipe of that area. By evening, I should have pretty good growth.
See? All those evenings watching Miami Vice wasn't completely wasted after all.
The girl I "pinky promised" with says she doesn't remember doing it. See? We didn't sign or copy it, so there's no proof. That's why she doesn't remember. I also think she was pretty drunk that night.
On Saturday night, I'm going to an '80s-theme party and I was thinking of going as Don Johnson ala Miami Vice. Only thing is, the timing's not right. I'm going to shave my cheeks on Saturday morning. But on Saturday night, I need the 5 o'clock shadow. What to do? WHAT TO DO???
I'll let you in on a secret. To gain the ultimate 5 o'clock shadow, you use a blade, not an electric razor, and you only shave with the direction of the hair growth, not against it. So, I'll do a down swipe of my cheeks on Saturday morning, keeping the goatee and mustache area. Then after the audition, I'll do a down swipe of that area. By evening, I should have pretty good growth.
See? All those evenings watching Miami Vice wasn't completely wasted after all.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Pinky Promise
Yesterday, I wrote how I was growing out some facial hair. Well, today, I shaved it off. Why? Because I got a call from my print agent for an audition today, which, unsurprisingly, does not call for facial hair.
The thing is, I made a pinky promise with a friend to not shave it. Or did I?
First things first. A pinky promise is one of those promises you make while locking pinkies. Some people also "sign" them by scratching each other's palms with the forefinger, followed by a swipe along the palm with the fingers in order to "copy" it. I didn't do all that other stuff, so, you see, there's no proof of the promise. And yes, I breached the agreement.
But not entirely. You see, after today, I'm growing it all back for the Saturday open casting.
Now this would all be fine, except for the fact that I will most likely see the person I made the pinky promise with tonight, and I believe she will not be pleased.
But here's how I look at it. Today's audition is for Nokia. Now for those who remember my earlier posts, I've had several encounters with the Nokia folks, mostly being put on avail for crazy money. This one is for $2000. Not bad. Minus the commission, it's still $1600 to me. But then again, they didn't exactly want me before. So will three times be a charm? We'll see....
I drank so much last night, then didn't get much sleep. I woke up with a slight hangover, but it wasn't something coffee and a shower couldn't fix. Today, I don't look half bad. My hair's looking presentable. And I'm wearing my current favorite shirt and jeans. I'm doing okay, despite the circumstances.
Anyway, the audition is not for another 4 hours. I've gotten uglier in less time.
The thing is, I made a pinky promise with a friend to not shave it. Or did I?
First things first. A pinky promise is one of those promises you make while locking pinkies. Some people also "sign" them by scratching each other's palms with the forefinger, followed by a swipe along the palm with the fingers in order to "copy" it. I didn't do all that other stuff, so, you see, there's no proof of the promise. And yes, I breached the agreement.
But not entirely. You see, after today, I'm growing it all back for the Saturday open casting.
Now this would all be fine, except for the fact that I will most likely see the person I made the pinky promise with tonight, and I believe she will not be pleased.
But here's how I look at it. Today's audition is for Nokia. Now for those who remember my earlier posts, I've had several encounters with the Nokia folks, mostly being put on avail for crazy money. This one is for $2000. Not bad. Minus the commission, it's still $1600 to me. But then again, they didn't exactly want me before. So will three times be a charm? We'll see....
I drank so much last night, then didn't get much sleep. I woke up with a slight hangover, but it wasn't something coffee and a shower couldn't fix. Today, I don't look half bad. My hair's looking presentable. And I'm wearing my current favorite shirt and jeans. I'm doing okay, despite the circumstances.
Anyway, the audition is not for another 4 hours. I've gotten uglier in less time.
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