amazing animation for the New Zealand Book Council

This is a whole lotta wow.

thankful

I've been pretty caught up in my own little world of worry lately. The H is O (heat is on, people!) to start making some money, I don't know where I'm going to land job-wise, and living off our savings is, apparently, not a sustainable plan (darn). On the bright side, my "3 month sabbatical" (4 months and counting) has – at least partly – done what it was supposed to do: I'm feeling refreshed, reconnected with home life, and confident that I'm meant for some more creative purpose in life. Of course, this is also the down side... i.e., it's making it a little hard for me to contemplate a return to a 40-hour work week.

I've spent the last few weeks beginning my job hunt: reaching out to old friends, coworkers and employers, announcing my availability on Facebook, and perusing Craig's List (an activity that generally thrusts me into a state of depression so instant and deep that I have to curl into the fetal position and squeeze my eyes shut til I'm seeing spots). So far I've had two informational interviews, a few email exchanges that may net future work, and a lot of well-wishes from friends who are just sure that there are hoards of companies out there who would want to hire me.

So I find myself heading into the holidays with no idea what the future holds. And, from day to day I can't decide whether anxiety-bordering-on-panic or faith-in-an-abundant-universe is the right mental approach. I'd sure hate to look back 3 months from now, when I'll conceivably be employed, overworked and time-constrained once again, and wish that I had enjoyed the final weeks of my freedom. Besides which, I'm a little worried that "the universe" has picked up on my inner conflict: sure, I want a job; I'm just not sure I want want one. Or rather it's a cake/eat it too scenario whereby I'm more than willing to work my ass off, but I don't want to give up my recently admitted dream of pursuing acting (whatever that turns out to mean). Ah, there's the rub: I gave myself 3 months to follow a dream that really requires 3 years just to get started. What was I thinking again?

Okay, all of this contemplation aside, here's the deal: it's Thanksgiving. Me, hubby and the kids are warm, full of food, and lounging about with a half-played game of Monopoly and a stack of comics. Life is good – really good, and I'm having a hard time worrying. I am so very fucking thankful. For my family, my health, my family's health, my home, my cat Lucky (and even a little bit for Mia that damn little runt), good eats, this beautiful county we live in, Novato Charter School, amazing friends, music, art, acting, books, Dlisted.com, House M.D., and so much more. Okay, so I gotta get a few things in order, like my livelihood and whatnot, but let's not blow things out of proportion. So here's to believing in an abundant future. Couldn't hurt, might help.

letting out my inner goth

Yesterday I had the pleasure of participating in filming of the last scene of Blank Slate – an independent film being made by my pals Tully and Eric. We shot at the Mayflower Pub in San Rafael and it was a low-stress, kick ass good time. Congrats to them for completing principal photography... and here's wishing them good luck with post-production.

Oh, I played Eric's goth girlfriend who he met playing World of Warcraft. I was pretty pleased with my makeup.

Dear Migraine, Screw You.

I have to say, Migraine, you've taken things to a new low. Granted, your presence in my life over the past five months has never been welcome, yet you have – more or less – allowed me to live my life and meet my commitments. But yesterday? Yesterday was just plain cold. Cold and mean.

There I am, on a San Francisco street in the chilly, bright November air. I've got on grown up makeup, my hair is looking almost convincingly bouncy, I'm wearing khakis for God's sake. You see, Migraine, I'm unusually well-groomed because I'm about to enter a casting agency for MY FIRST AUDITION since I landed my commercial acting agent almost a month ago. Yeah... first one. Sort of important. But does that stop you, Migraine? No, it doesn't. As I pull out my phone to see if it's time to go in, I get the telltale flashing, the sudden blind spots, the weird lack of depth perception and the sick feeling of anticipation in my gut that tells me in approximately 45 minutes I'll be experiencing an icepick-like sensation to the eyebrow region.

I stood there, trying to will you to leave me alone, just this once. But you're a heartless bastard, Migraine, and you – in the evil personification I've assigned to you – just rocked back on your heels and rubbed your palms together while letting out a high-pitched cackle... you were just getting started.

After a couple of minutes' deliberation, I decided that I had time on my side, to some degree. If I could get in there, stumble through the audition, and get out before the pain set in, I could avoid the shame of missing my first ever "go-see." Worst case scenario, I figured, was that I'd topple over like I was having a seizure and give everyone a good scare.

Now, I will say that it's a little hard to fill out an information card when you've got a blind spot the size of a kiwi fruit and are seeing tracers, but hey, that's what keeps it exciting, right Migraine? I slowly, steadily filled in my name and vital statistics with writing that looked like a third grade version of my own. And then, I sat. Sat and took a look at the competition. The part called for a female engineer – tall, "somewhat" attractive, but approachable... a Tina Fey type. I thought, "this part was MADE for me!" Funny thing is, there are quite a few Tina Feys in SF... go figure. So, I peered around, with eyeballs that I was sure looked like acid-induced saucers, and began to feel like a moron for ever thinking this acting thing was a good idea. "They've all done this before," I thought, "none of them have hair that's struggling to return to its natural, scraggly state," and "goddamn, that woman has a perfect tiny waist and ass. Goddamn her." And goddamn you, Migraine, in case I haven't mentioned it lately.

So, we sat in these plastic chairs, waiting our turn, and as I write this I'm not sure how much of what goes on in an audition is confidential, but luckily I have a readership of... well: me. So, we sat there and listened to dance music pumping out of the audition room. We could see the camera flash from around the corner and I'm thinking "I'm pretty sure that they don't play that type of music unless they want you to, you know, dance." I sat. I waited. I couldn't even look at my phone or read because my vision was swimming, but I knew that I still had a full 30 minutes before the pain would start. The one and only thing I can thank you for, Migraine, is that with all of my dread focused on the impending nausea and pain, I couldn't spare any for being nervous about the audition.

After about 15 minutes, it was my turn. I was brought into the photo studio, home of the dance music, where I was given a lab coat and clipboard. They took some pictures of me posing "like I was really used to holding a clipboard," and then I had to dance, or rather, sort of freeze in dance poses so they could catch it on film. I shit you not, Migraine, THIS is me trying to live the dream. God help me.

So, I did it. I clutched that damn clipboard, I imagined great enginering successes and tried to show it on my face, I did bizarre and erratic dance moves in a lab coat, goddamn it. And who knows? Maybe my eyeballs looked normal from the outside.

And that was that. I got my ass in the car. I drove (probably ill-advisedly) home with white knuckles, extreme focus and lots of little whimpering noises, and I made it to the safety of a dark room and my warm covers. If getting me to lay down was the goal, then I guess, Migraine, you won.

So no, I don't think I'll be getting that part, but I just found out I have another audition tomorrow. So there, Migraine – you can suck it.

wherein I add my voice to the cacophony

4 months ago I left my job as an account director at an interactive agency. My "sabbatical" as I called it (to make it sound like I knew what the hell I was up to) was intended to give me time to focus on my renewed love of acting as well as to get some much needed downtime and regain my sanity and purpose. And now? Well, I'm happy to say that I got myself a head shot, pulled together an acting resume (nevermind that 10 year hiatus!), and managed to land an agent. Yep, I'm officially ready and waiting for auditions... in what is arguably the weakest commercial acting market ever! But no matter, I'm on my path. Or I'm on a path anyway. Now for the part where I figure out the big "what next?" i.e., "how about a real job that pays money?" Every day seems to bring a new scheme, followed by a new (and massive) wave of fear, followed by me snapping at my husband for something inconsequential, followed by mindless, yet oh so comforting, consumption of dlisted.com and Glee on Hulu. I figured why not catalog this uncertain time here, in a blog? After all, I prefer my bandwagons somewhat out-of-date.