hi folks, we're back

Gosh, I nearly got dragged down into inertia there. Wait, I think I'm mixing my metaphors... no matter. The point is that I could very easily have let my blog muscle atrophy, but gosh-darnit I won't do it. And I hate waiting until January 1st to start doing my "to do's" - too much pressure there. So, here I am, fighting the good fight and keeping up the ol' brain dumping. By which I mean, writing stuff that I think about, not secretly getting rid of gray matter.

Speaking of which, hubby and I finally visited the Pirate Store at 826 Valencia (http://www.826valencia.org/) a couple of weeks back and they had for sale a "brain bucket!" Yes, they did. They also had a kitten plank - you know, so you can get your kitten to walk the plank? Anyway, I highly recommend a visit there. I even grabbed a flyer for a Comic Book Writing workshop that I'm hoping to send the kids to in February.

But where was I? Oh yes, I guess I was just here... watching 2009 wind down and having mixed feelings about being in my pajamas at 2:45pm. I keep telling myself that 2010 is going to require a lot of energy, so I might as well soak up the down time while I can.

today I cuddled a stuffed dog on camera and other news from the acting world

I went to today's audition feeling utterly prepared to be a lovesick dog owner. I had the script memorized, I was emanating lovey-dovey vibes all over the place, and I was picturing an adorable black lab in my mind. What I wasn't prepared for was a 12" stuffed beagle wearing a sweater. Looking back I guess I was naive. I mean, if they want to know how you'll look interacting with a real, live canine, what better way than to have you snuggle a plush toy?

The casting director invited me to get comfortable in the cozy chair and to tell the camera just how in love I was with my dog (okay, I realize this sounds weird, but the concept for the commercial was actually kind of cute). But then the final moment: "react as your dog comes into the room and pick him up and love him." Here I am, doing improv in my acting class every Tuesday night, and yet I found myself strangely blocked about how to carry on with this little guy. It didn't help that as I kissed his shiny, vinyl nose, I imagined the germs of all the other dog-loving hopefuls jumping into my mouth. But I did my best, I suppose: I cuddled, I (as mentioned) smooched, I squeezed and hugged and sighed happily. Boy did it seem to take a long time for her to say "cut."

At Nancy Hayes Casting, the people behind the camera are uniformly kind, encouraging and patient. This woman gave me 3 chances to take her direction and do my best. Really, one couldn't ask for a fairer shake, when it comes to the audition experience. So why did I feel like such a dork today? There's just this undeniable x-factor with acting. The whole thing of being "on" or not. And today was a bit... blegh. Nonetheless, it's all experience, and I figure each rejection is one more notch on my belt. How many will there be before I book something? 30? 50? Millions of people have said it before me, but there is something distinctly nuts about undertaking an endeavor where your odds of success, ANY tiny shred of success, are so ridiculously slim. But hey, the joy of not being able to find a job (a straight job, that is) is that I've got nothing but spare time on my hands, baby. So wish me luck.

(not) putting my best foot forward

Worst audition requirement ever, as received today from my agent:
"your bare feet may be shown (fairly close up) so please take the necessary actions to ensure that your feet will be presentable."

Okay, seriously? I know lots of people say their feet are ugly, but mine... mine are like Amy Sedaris in Strangers With Candy, where when she walks her toenails click on the floor. Take some size 10 honkers, adorn them with loonnnng toes (I mean it; the 2nd toe literally dwarfs the big one) and throw in 12 years of ballet to add some truly spectacular calluses. It's not pretty. I haven't worn open toed shoes in several years. The last time, after Scott convinced me that nobody would be looking at my feet, I was at a bar and our friend (who shall remain nameless), looked down and said "wow, you have really weird toes!" (Insert a few hundred extra hours of self-loathing here.) If I'm caught barefoot with company, I'll find a way to put them under a table or sit on them or obscure them in some way. When I get a pedicure, I have to practically medicate myself so I don't imagine what those cute little ladies are saying about honky's monster feet. So, yeah, this may not be the audition for me...

got 30 minutes?

I like Colleen Wainwright (a.k.a. "the communicatrix") because she writes about acting and marketing--two things I seem to keep coming back to in my life. Also because she's pretty funny. Here's part one of her two-part list of things actors can do with just a little spare time: 10 things you can do in 30 minutes

Lady G

Is it me or did Lady Gaga achieve in one year what took Madonna a couple of decades? Superstar. Weirdo. Fashion icon. Friend of the Queen.

Wendy and Lucy... um, really?

I'm utterly flabbergasted by this movie's Rotten Tomatoes' rating (check it out at http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/wendy_and_lucy/). Sure, Michelle Williams is frickin' wonderful, just like she always is. Those big limpid brown eyes and her subtly expressive face melt your heart as you contemplate the life of a young, homeless woman with no prospects and a dwindling handful of money. But I was warned: our friend Jay said, "great movie... if you don't mind that NOTHING HAPPENS." Wow, I don't know how to add to that. This movie can pretty much be summed up as follows:
- Wendy walks in the Oregon countryside
- Wendy walks in a depressed Oregon city
- Wendy sleeps in her car
- Wendy's car breaks down
- Wendy shoplifts dog food for her dog, Lucy
- Wendy gets arrested
- Wendy loses Lucy
- Wendy walks some more
- Wendy goes to a gas station bathroom a few times
- Wendy's eyes look all sad and victimized
- Wendy finds out her car will cost too much to fix
- Wendy finds her dog but... oh no, wait, I'm not going to give away the big ending (hint: it's not big)

In fact, I just realized that my synopsis is making this movie sound way more exciting than it really is. Maybe I'm just greedy, but dang if this movie isn't a steaming pile of blegh. I needed a Star Trek palette cleanser just to get my blood flowing again.

another day, another audition

After a month of silence on the audition front, it seems that things are picking up. Following the migraine episode, I was sent to an honest-to-goodness national commercial audition followed by another go-see for a print ad. So far no callbacks and no jobs, but I have a feeling this won't get depressing until I'm turned down at least 20 times. After all, it's so very apparent that it's all about type. I can comfort myself with the fact that when I walk in there they may already have in mind a 5'6" blond with a perky nose, and no amount of personality or talent will make one whit of difference. Okay, I can comfort myself with that fact OR get very depressed about it. I choose the former. And with that in mind, it's all fun and games.

On the other hand, nothing makes one's expendability hit home like a room full of beautiful "moms," "doctors," and plain ol' "35-40 year old females" in corporate casual. Yikes. At least when you interview for a job, you see - at most - one other candidate coming or going. Here, it's all out on the table: you are one of many and you're probably not The One.

But I can say this: after just 3 experiences at casting calls, I've learned quite a bit, specifically:
- Show up on time and be prepared for things to run 20-90 minutes behind schedule.
- "The competition" are nicer than expected–out in the waiting room, there's a comforting sense of "we're all in this together" since everyone knows every audition is a huge long shot.
- The casting agents are pretty nice too.
- "Well groomed" means many things to many people.
- Looking generic makes you feel generic -- life is too short to not be yourself. After all, what else are you selling?
- I sweat when I'm nervous.