It has arrived!

FINALLY. It looks cute. I think. I have our hotels booked for both cities, will hopefully remember to select my seats for our flight, and Thursday morning we'll be off to Ontario!

I feel woefully unprepared to travel. Tomorrow I have to go buy new makeup, because for some reason all my makeup either broke or got used up at the same time. Of course, buying all new stuff tomorrow will ensure that the same thing happens again a few months down the road.

And so the cycle continues.

UPS: Use Purolator, Stupid.

Arrrrgh I ordered a dress to wear to my brother's wedding next weekend. Actually, I ordered it in teal, not black as shown. But anyway, it's cute, right? Although the ruffles can be a bit of a risk, I've seen pictures of said dress on actual women, and I think it's going to be good.

Except it's not here yet. My dress has been to Kentucky, Sioux Falls, and finally Calgary. At least it's in the right country now. But we are flying out on Thursday morning, which doesn't give me a lot of time to (a) GET the dress, and (b) find a suitable replacement if the dress looks awful.

Which it won't. I hope. This is causing me great anxiety at the moment. Also that I don't really have it in my budget to buy a replacement dress at this point.

Please cross your fingers for me that the dress shows up on Monday. And that it looks great.

Please?

Accursed sugars!

So this week, I had a follow-up visit to my friendly neighbourhood dietician. The results? After 2 months of faithfully following her suggestions and consulting with my Canada's Food Guide-- nothing. Not one single pound gone. Actually, I gained a pound since my last weigh-in with her.

Which I guess was not what she was expecting. In fact, she seemed quite puzzled. And I wrote down everything. Like the occasional twizzler at work everything. And she still said I eat better than the vast majority of clients she sees.

After thinking for a minute, she said "Let's try something different."

Something different turns out to be a diabetic diet. Like, with exchanges and stuff. To somehow restrict the delicious carbs and balance them with protein and see if that works. Which seems a little more involved than my former "eat a balanced 1300-1500 calories a day" plan. Like planning x number of carbs with x number of proteins.

Which is fine(ish), and I've planned this week already-- though it involves me eating pretty much the same things every day for all meals and snacks except dinner. Which will still be fine(ish) except I'm going to be traveling to a wedding and will be having unpredictable on the road food... oops. I suppose I'll have to resist the temptation to be "on vacation and thus eating french fries all day".

I'm not too sure what happens if this doesn't work-- here's hoping it does. I was going to head back to ye olde doctor in September if, after 6 months of eating well and exercising, there is still no weight-loss action.

Then again, if it does work, am I stuck eating the same 2 meals and 2 snacks forever? With only the same 5 dinners for variety?

Here's hoping it works anyway.

Still Trucking...

Or should that be "Truckin'?"

Things are very much the same here-- still rainy, still being overrun by vicious mosquitoes. Still going to the gym, still eating healthy, still very few results to show for it, at least scale-wise.

Still, I persevere.

I have some very vague ideas for a new play, which caused me to go on a spree of requesting books at the library, never thinking that they would of course all come in at once, which they have. That's one of my favourite parts of the process-- research, not lugging 50 lbs of books home from the library. And not even specific research, just the reading about things because I am interested in them and may become inspired. So much more interesting than, say, the reformatting of a script I have to do and have been putting off. Or organizing my mailouts for script submissions now that the postal strike is over AND I have some cash to get a shit-ton of scripts printed.

And of course, I want to take on an entirely new project, which has to do with reading. I have always wanted to read all the books on one of those 100 Greatest Novels list, because although being the child of two English Lit PhD's has made me fairly well-read, I always feel like I should read more.

And I think I'm going to try the Time Magazine's 100 Greatest Novels list, at least partially because the list starts in 1923 (the year Time Magazine started), thus neatly allowing me to avoid 1922's Ulysses. It also had a pretty good selection of books from across the 20th century, and most importantly, books I am interested in reading.

I'm starting with Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections, just as soon as I can back my truck up to the library.

Side note: I actually witnessed an audience member answer their cell phone at a play I was at on the weekend. I thought people only did that in hilarious anecdotes in which a Broadway star berates said audience member publicly.

The ringing (set to one of those retro-actual-phone-ringtones) took place at an unfortunate moment-- Emilia was just tucking Desdemona into bed (where we all know she is about to be--spoiler alert!-- imminently strangled by Othello), and there was a nice quiet moment. The ringing started immediately before her exit, which momentarily led me to think "She's on her way to answer the phone?".

It was someone a couple of rows behind me. He pulled out his phone, answered it, and "whispered":

HOLLISTER-SHIRTED DUMMY ON HIS IPHONE: I can't talk now. I'll call you back later. OK? Ok. OK. Bye.

Lame.

So if you're not going to turn off your cell phone because you're I don't know, a brain surgeon or an army colonel, or a head of state, or Mr. Hollister behind me, please, please, please do not answer your phone. It is rude. It makes you look stupid. And no one believes you're that important, anyway.

Seriously.

Not that I'm one to rejoice in the misfortunes of others...

But Mr. Movie director who let me go because I wasn't available on the days he didn't need me?

It kind of seems like his project isn't going well.

Nor am I the kind of person to creep on people's facebook pages and learn the types of things that I'm not rejoicing about.

Well, rejoicing is a little strong. Maybe a slight smirk.

Just a slight one.

A Rejection Letter Made My Day...

Strange but true.

Today I got my official rejection letter from the Big Time Theatre, and I have to say it was one of the nicest rejection letters I've ever gotten. Along with the usual "We saw so many people and it was a tough decision blah blah blah", there was an actual note from the director and the AD at the bottom telling me they thought I did really great work, specifically one of my monologues. And they thought I was funny and terrific and good, and that not getting cast had absolutely nothing to do with my audition.

Nice, right? Usually I banish rejections to their appropriate project folder in my email, but I actually read this one a few times over the course of the morning, because I am eight and compliments make me giddy.

Who knows, maybe they'll think of me when casting time rolls around again. And it was so nice to hear that I am not completely delusional, that I am right to keep pursuing this. Because I'm good at it.

A pulled shoulder muscle is keeping me away from the gym today, although it makes me feel lazy. Hopefully the bugs won't be so bad/torrential rains will hold off and I can take a walk later.

Happy Monday, friends!

Mission Accomplished!

OK, maybe not the entire mission. But my goal of going to the gym 3 times this week is achieved!
Hmmm, writing it out like that doesn't make it sound very impressive. Certainly not as impressive as my ability to start making excuses NOT to go to the gym the moment I get up. But I have to say, I'm a little bit impressed with myself.

Next week, I'm planning to go FOUR times. Excuses be gone!

It's pouring rain here. It was pouring rain yesterday. It was pouring rain last week. It's going to pour rain next week. My shoes have finally given up the ghost (I suppose there's only so much water exposure you can expect $15 shoes to take). Our basement is continually leaking. And even in the downpour on my way to work this morning (dressed in my miles-too-big purple windbreaker that makes me look like Grimace, but is the only waterproof thing I own with a hood), I noticed that there were STILL mosquitos flying around. How is this possible?

So it hasn't been the summeriest of summers so far. And grown-up life is sort of getting me down lately, what with its expectations that I actually pay my bills and show up to work every day (for example, on a Saturday). As my mother would say, all I need to do is write a bestselling book, and my problems would be solved.

She's serious, by the way. That's ALL I NEED TO DO. Of course, now that Oprah's off the air, it might take a little longer to become fabulously wealthy from my writing, say three or four months instead of one.

Sigh. I guess I could always write it this weekend.

Fear and Loathing in Las Gym

So I have this fear of dentists. I didn't always, it was just something that developed over the years of not going to the dentist, partially because I was too poor, and partially because I had become afraid. It's gotten better since I've been going regularly, and I accept it as one of those unpleasant things you have to go through if you don't want to end up in one of those real-life stress dreams where all your teeth suddenly fall out (I hate hate hate those dreams).

I was beginning to wonder if I'd developed a similar fear of the gym. I don't know what there is to be afraid of at the gym, but I definitely felt a slight twinge of anxiety upon thinking "Yes, today is the day I join the gym again!". There are several things that could be responsible for this fear:
* being surrounded by skinny people
* actually just fear of being surrounded by people in general
* fear of awful music remixes
* fear of some sort of terrible free-weight avalanche resulting in my crushing

Well, none of those really seem to make sense. Could I just be confronting my fear of not making excuses and just doing something? Because it's no revelation to anyone who knows me that I am an extremely non-athletic person. Gym class was one of the great banes of my existence in grade school, not only because I was a chubby kid who got made fun of, but because my utter lack of skill meant that I would only ever get marks for "effort", thus ruining my chances of getting straight A's.

Yes, I was the kind of person who worried about getting straight A's in grade school. Particularly in light of how it would affect my future of getting into an ivy league school, because these were the things I thought about when I was eight.

But I digress. Anxiety be damned, this was my day off, and the day to start going back to the gym. When I got there, I discovered that my workout pants were actually too big compared to the last time I worked out, possibly my brief couple of months of attempting to "Become A Runner" last summer. Pants too big? Clearly I'd accomplished my goal, I should probably just be-- but I stopped myself from leaving and just forced myself to get out there and do something on the elliptical.

Observations:
* once you actually get started, it's not so bad
* most people at the gym pretty much universally ignore you, which is excellent
* in baggy clothes and with no makeup, I can still look like I'm about 12 sometimes. Well, a rather rotund 12 year old, or a 12 year old who's had several children, but I'm talking about the face, people!
* if your music is good enough, you can make it through almost any length of cardio.
* never time your workout to end with the onset of the lunchtime gym crowd. It's unpleasant, noisy, and there will always, always be someone spread out in front of your locker.

So, my first 35 minutes are done. The plan is to do this 2 more times this week, then presumably sign up for an actual membership once my trial membership is over.

I wish the dentist also had 3 free visits before you had to pay, it would have made my bank account a lot happier.

Summer sickness

I don't know why being sick in the summer is somehow more of a rip-off than being sick in the winter. Let's face it, I'm not exactly spending the sunny months going trail-riding or whitewater rafting or having picnics or other outdoorsy pursuits.

Or maybe it's just the fact that I have an extra-long weekend (off till Tuesday afternoon) that it seems outrageous to wake up with a sore throat and a tummyache and a host of other plague-related symptoms.

Maybe it's just allergies.

No, I know I'm sick because I spelled "outrageous" wrong 4 separate times just now. The brain, she is not functioning correctly.

I'm kind of hoping I wake up miraculously cured tomorrow so I can enjoy a guilt-free weekday off! I was planning on doing some shopping, but not getting paid on payday (which sucks, I KNOW) has kind of put a damper on that. Maybe I'll head up to Value Village. Maybe I'll even head out to a strange and exotic Value Village.

Here's hoping!

Tackling My To-Do List

So a dear friend of mine and I were discussing inertia in theatre, and how you can get that horrible feeling of never accomplishing anything and not going anywhere and ohgodwhydidIchoosetodothiswheneveryoneissomuchbetterthanme-ism. I'm sure other humans feel this way, not just artists. But anyone in a creative profession had better learn to motivate themselves to get shit done, AND to validate themselves regularly, because depending entirely on the whims of others for validation is a one-way ticket to crazytown.

And there are some awkward situations that I think just don't occur as much in the non-artsy world. Case in point:

Let's say you have a job interview, an interview that goes really well. And your good friend, as it happens, is interviewing for the same job. And although your interview went well, your friend calls to tell you with breathless delight that she got the job! And you're in that weird place of being happy for your friend, but terribly disappointed for yourself, and being externally congratulatory yet internally self-berating.

And while I'm sure this happens in non-artistic fields once in a while, the thing for creative jobs is that this can happen ALL THE TIME. Not that I'm complaining, I could always choose to go and be a lab technician, or a cash register repairperson or something completely unrelated to my field. The point is, it's important to feel like you're getting things accomplished.

So my friend has been using a strategy where she writes to-do lists of things she has to accomplish, and keeps them all in the same notebook. So she can see on a regular basis how much stuff she's gotten done and feel good about it. So I decided to try the same thing.

That's when I realized I'm scared of the list. And I did my usual trick of breaking things down into their component steps. But actually doing these things on the list is a little frightening. If I were into psychologically analyzing myself (giant eyeroll here, guys, it's totally one of my favourite hobbies), I might think that making the commitment to accomplishing something actually puts me in a position of potentially failing. Or potentially succeeding. Whichever could be scarier.

It's taking a risk, see. How much easier would it be to sit here and think "I'm going to do that, and one day I'll do that" while blithely eating bonbons or something. Or looking back and saying "I could have done that, if only..."

Not where I want to be.

So today I'm starting the list.

I should put "say you're starting the list" on the list. That way I could already have something crossed off.

Long Weekend!

After what seemed like the longest work day of my life, the weekend is here. I don't have to be back at work until 1pm Tuesday! I'm torn between making a list of ways to organize my time and just saying fuck it and chilling all weekend.

I suspect it'll be a combination of the two.

It are my birthday...

It's true. Sadly, I have to spend part of it working, which is always a pain, especially on a Saturday. Then, because we are terribly broke, we are going to Dairy Queen and possibly having drunken karaoke in the safety of our living room.

Is that sad? I've never been one to make a huge deal of birthdays, largely because I live with the fear of no one showing up to my party. I actually kind of wish I'd made a bigger deal of it this year, but instead I'm just going to chill and have my yearly Blizzard. And buy a lottery ticket, as per tradition. And if the postal strike is ever over, I'll get some birthday money in the mail (yes, even at my decrepit old age, I still get birthday cheques from my parents) and treat myself to something fun.

Happy my birthday, everyone!

Huh?

Hello, friends.
It's the first day of summer! And our basement is flooded. Well, today it's actually only mildly flooded, yesterday was the real action. It'd been raining here since Thursday, which is pretty unusual for my prairie town, and combined with an old house... rubber boots time! We spent yesterday taking turns doing the shopvac/sweeping water down the drain routine.

Blech!

And then the saga of the "film director" continued. Have I not mentioned him? He's some young fella who wants to make movies. He's apparently making a movie, and had asked me to be in it this summer. Now, this isn't my first experience with this guy-- way back last fall he'd asked me to be in an independent he wanted to shoot over the winter, which fell through for some reason. And I've never worked with him, but according to one of my friends, he's very nice and organized and talented.

So when he offered me a one-scene neat little featured role in his independent? Sure! No money, but experience, a credit for my resume, and a chance to practice on-camera.

Easy, right?

Er... no. He'd asked me to send him a picture of me in wardrobe, and I'd emailed him to say that because of the play reading, would it be okay to get that to him this weekend? And then he replied no, and he was worried that my play reading would leave me unable to focus on his movie, and he only liked to hire actors without any other projects on the go, because he didn't want their creative focus split. And he wasn't sure that my schedule was going to work anyway, and maybe he should look at other actors, and he'd let me know.

Huh?

OK, (a) it's one scene. One day of shooting. I'm pretty sure I can maintain focus with my tiny actor's brain. (b) Do you really mean you want people who don't have anything creative on the go at all? Yikes! And (c) You're not paying me. So this kind of lessens your ability to dictate how I spend the rest of my time.

So I emailed him back and said actually my play reading was already done, and yes, I did have a job, but I was available for the dates we'd probably be shooting, but if he wanted to recast, then best of luck.

Then I get an email back saying "Oh my god, this is working out great, I can't wait to work with you, I'm so glad your play reading is done, blah blah blah!"

Okay.

Now, my scene would likely be shot on a Sunday, because that's when we had access to the location. He'd mentioned that he wanted my character to be sort of background in some other scenes if possible, and that he'd let me know when they were shooting those. So yesterday I realized I wasn't available one Saturday in July, due to a work thing. So I emailed him to say, oh, this one Saturday I wouldn't be available until later in the day.

SATURDAY. Not SUNDAY.

I get an email back saying "Oh, that won't work, we can only shoot in the location on Sunday, so best of luck and maybe another project will come up in the future."

Huh?

Time to walk away on this one. Good luck with the movie, have a great summer, goodbye. I'm going to split my creative focus by doing some rewrites and maybe starting a new play this summer.

Well, time to bail out the basement again!
Happy first day of summer!

Free Time!

Yes, after doing a quick shoot for an industrial this morning, I am completely stunned to realize that I have FREE TIME! I have nothing to do for the rest of the weekend, except do groceries and bill paying, and I think that can be safely put off until tomorrow. It's sort of a shame that it's been pouring rain here for two days, but it's probably for the best, since it will prevent me from going shopping and spending money I don't have.

So, the reading-- went really well! It was kind of a long week, there were three nights of play readings, two plays each night. The way it worked out, there was one short-ish (say 80-90 minutes) play each night, and one EXTREMELY LONG play each night. I'm talking 2, 2 and a half hours here, people! Mine was the first play of the last night. Rehearsal was fun, we had a lot of laughs, and I was relieved to hear that the complete overhaul I'd done worked. Not perfect, but I think I am back on the right track with this one.

I've been informed by the playwright unit facilitators that I have done so well, that I'm almost done the play-- now I graduate from doing major rewrites into detailed editing work.

The reading was well-received, and I was pleased to receive a surprise paycheque from the theatre in question, which has given a bit of a boost to my withering bank account.

And with that and my little video done... I have nothing to do. Sure, I have rewrites and fixes to do on the script, but that can wait. I even got a great deal on airfare to my brother's wedding yesterday. And had a breakthrough with my new voice coach yesterday.

So what to do, what to do? New sewing project? New play? Binge on terrible television? Mystery Science Theatre marathon?

I would cook something indulgent, but the oven's still broken.

I think I'm just going to spend the weekend lounging around drinking tea and being lazy.

That sounds like a plan.

This week

This is the busiest week I've had in a long time:
Monday: work 930-530, attend play readings 6-11pm
Tuesday: work 930-530, attend play readings 6-11pm
Wednesday: attend rehearsal 10-5, play reading (my play) 6-8, attend play reading 830-11
Thursday: work 10-530, meeting friends for drinks
Friday: voice coaching 11-12, work 130-830
Saturday: shooting for industrial video 12-3

I'm feeling a bit better about my play, after talking to the director and a couple of other people about it. I suppose I can recognize that I don't exactly have perspective on the project, and that I will obviously feel sort of distanced and strange about the work, since it's changed radically from the original concept. And of course that I might be projecting some of my own issues into imagining things that are wrong with the play.

I've also been getting work/possible gigs thrown at me-- upcoming this week a quick shoot for an industrial video (4 pages of dialogue), and a couple of scenes in an independent film shooting here this summer. Plus it seems like I may be writing a play with the person directing my reading, and obvs there will be a role in it for me. And I still think about somehow, someday, doing a cabaret.

I think I'm going to join the Y, once this crazy week is done. I'm finally down another pound, but it's wayyyy too slow, especially considering how well I eat. I think I may need to tone up some muscles to get my metabolism going a bit. I do feel like part of the reason I don't work that much is because of my weight. And I think I need to once and for all treat getting in better physical shape like it's my job. Because it's only going to benefit me health wise, career wise, and happiness wise. And no, I don't think that all life's problems are solved by getting thin. But I do think I'll be in a better position to move forward feeling good about myself.

Wish me luck and energy this week!

Today

So after much pathetic whining and gnashing of teeth last night, I am feeling slightly better today. Except for my tendency to burst into tears at the slightest provocation, which I suspect may be hormonal rather than related to actual events.
For example:
Seeing a baby bird (well, teenage bird) hanging out with its mom, learning to be a bird-- instant waterworks.

At my voice coaching, saying "I have a lot of tension" and being reassured-- Niagara falls.

Thought of coming in to work and sitting here well into the evening-- well, no crying there, just feelings of ugh and bleah.

Though I am still feeling just a little bit defeated. I need to figure out some things I can work on and people I can work with who are encouraging and supportive and who do the kind of work I want to do. I figure I won't quit just yet-- if it means this much to me that I get so worked up to it, perhaps I do belong here. I just need to shift perspective a little bit.

Or something to that effect.

Ouch. (Whining ahead).

Today has been kind of a disappointing day. I mean, it was kind of a bleah day with some annoying things (work computer getting fried by a virus I have no idea how I got, but can't help but feel guilty about, since it was, after all, my computer), but tonight it became truly disappointing.

Ye olde big time auditions? I was joking with my audition buddy about expecting a fuck-you email, when I suddenly realized I was going to get one. Because my friend (who I am very happy for) said "Oh... I actually got a callback last Friday." And of course, I didn't get a callback, which is more disappointing than I thought it would be, like ridiculously, disproportionately disappointing, the big sloppy tears welling up kind of disappointing. Not really because of this specifically, more that I get really, really tired of feeling like this.

Like what? I don't really know-- I guess kind of left out. Like-- okay, there's this girl in the theatre community, well, sort of adjacent to the theatre community, who fancies herself to be a brilliant performer. Only... well, she's not. She's rather dreadful. But she has the confidence of an internationally recognized genius, like one of those people in American Idol auditions who are so awful, but can't believe they're getting negative feedback. But I feel like I'm her or something. Going around saying "hey, if you need an actor...", and of course no one will ever need an actor that badly. And I just feel like everyone must think I'm some kind of idiot to be going around deluding myself like that, and people must be thinking "When will she just give up?" Because it's been increasingly rare that I get asked to do things, I get tired of putting myself out there again and again. I'm tired of feeling like an outsider here.

To top it off, not looking forward to ye olde play reading next week either. For a variety of reasons I won't get into here.

I know, this is disappointment-adjacent craziness. By tomorrow I'm sure I'll have a plan to "show em all with a great show!" or something. But tonight this sucks. Seriously.

I wish I was not a grown-up who needs money and could call in sick to work tomorrow and just wallow. Instead I have about 4 separate places to be at, including work and a voice coaching.

So is this the time on sprockets when we suck it up?

Using What You've Got...

I have a thing for kitchen gadgets. Tools, toys, appliances. I love them. In fact, I kind of have a thing for stuff--hence my love of vintage shopping, garage sales, and the like.

But it occurred to me that I have a lot of stuff that I hardly ever use. And some of it, like cookbooks, is just because I haven't really been feeling the spirit move me. That, and being so broke-- no cash for fancy ingredients means no fancy new recipes.

But isn't being broke a great time to use the stuff I already have? Which is why I've resolved to use the following two kitchen toys next week: my pasta maker and my cookie press. The pasta maker I've used before, the press I'm ashamed to say I never have. It's been sitting in its box since Christmas of LAST YEAR, people! That just ain't right.

I'm going to start challenging myself to use the things I've already got, rather than wishing I had other things, or, dare I say, was other things.

The most rewarding part was when they gave me the money...

Yes friends, it's true: I have finally, finally received my cheque for those commercials I shot all those many moons ago (actually, in March, so only a couple of moons ago, but that's a long time when you're waiting for a chunk of change)! Not only did I beat the postal strike, I am now a real, live, professional actress. Who will be on tv, no less (that's what well-meaning friends and relatives always seem to hold as a measure of true success--"When are we going to see you on the teevee?")

You know, the other day at that audition, as I was coming out, I ran into a certain local wunderkind who's often a bit of a d-bag, because I think he believes that he should behave eccentrically, and that artists should be indulged because, of course, how would anyone create art sans indulgence? But anyway, he was signing in as I was leaving the audition room, and he was quite surprised to see me there. He immediately asked "Oh, are you here with J?" referring of course to my husband who is himself a pretty successful professional actor here in town. And making the assumption that I just follow J around, holding his coat and keeping my fingers crossed for him outside his auditions, or volunteer my time to turn the pages for the accompanist in support of J's career, or I don't know, some other crazed idea.

I did solemnly inform him that no, J wasn't here, and that it was just me doing an audition. And in the back of my mind I got a little mad that "he doesn't think of me as an actor! Why doesn't anyone think of me as an actor?" But then I realized that the person who has a hard time accepting calling me an actor is... well, me.

That sounds cheesy. Like, if my life were an episode of 90210 (old-school, thank you), it's the kind of realization I'd come to in the last 5 minutes of the episode. With help from Andrea or Kelly or Dylan, who would have given me a strong talking to, or thrown me a surprise party, or come to bail me out at the police station. But I digress. It's true, I have a hard time feeling like I "deserve" that title of actor. But why shouldn't I? I trained for it. I'm good at it. Occasionally I get asked by others to do it. And occasionally, like today, I get paid for it.

So why is it so hard to claim that "special" title? Maybe I need to worry less about what others think of me, and work a little harder on how I think about myself.

That's clearly something Dylan would have said. Right?

At a bit of a loss...

Remember when I was so freaked out about finishing the rewrite of the play I wasn't sure if I liked, but is having a reading next month? Well, I finished the rewrite, extra early (like, at least a week and a half ago) because I felt pressured to give the director a script (because the rewrite was rather drastically changed from the previous draft), and I haven't looked at it since.

I haven't heard from the director, either, despite some email prodding, but that's another story. The reading is in two weeks, and it's more of a workshop-y thing for an invited audience, rather than any kind of performance. I'll probably go through it again to do a bit of a clean-up edit, but I feel like there's not much further I can go with this until I hear it out loud.

But then I got all caught up in preparing for/fretting over THE AUDITION, which is now mercifully over.

And so I'm at a bit of a loss as to what to do with myself. It makes me want to start a new project. I always get these big ideas to start self-improvement projects, or writing projects, or musical projects, or whatever else springs into my head at the time.

Free time is never something I live easily with. I do have a stack of books I've been reading waiting to be finished, and some sewing and knitting projects waiting to be started. But I think I just love the thrill, the excitement of the new. I'm a little bit addicted to potential. This could be why I have trouble finishing things. Or sometimes, even starting things. It's when potential is in danger of becoming result that I get a little skittish.

It's not that I don't accomplish things, or finish projects. I do. Just sometimes I need to remind myself to follow through.

In other news, that cheque for the commercial is finally on its way, apparently. To balance this out, the postal workers may be going on strike in the next few days. And that's not the only thing I'm expecting in the mail-- the other day I happened to be checking out my credit card statement online, and noticed some weird charges-- cabs in Vancouver, sandwiches in Kamloops-- both cities that are quite a ways a way from this prairie town. So I called, and while the first guy I spoke with clearly suspected me of trying to defraud Mastercard to score some free BC sandwiches, the girl in the fraud department told me that yes, there were some other charges, but all would be taken off. And they're sending me a brand new card. In the mail.

At the moment, I'm kind of loving this website. I foresee myself visiting it on my internet breaks at work.

The Audition!

Is done! The last 40 minutes before I went up to the room, I was sitting in an adjacent office building musing about the nature of time, and how it was just steadily creeping forward to 10:20, the HOUR OF DOOM, and although I wished I had more time, I also wished it was already over, because I couldn't stand being nervous about it any more.

Once I got up to the waiting area, the nervousness started to dissipate. I tried to listen in a little on what was happening in the room with the person going before me... and got a couple of little clues about what I might be asked to do. Sneaky, I know. And I asked the girl signing us in how many people were in the room, which gave me a good guess as to who might be there.

The interview was first, then my monologues, then my song. The song wasn't brilliant, but it went much better than I thought-- that old instinct to just suck it up and perform must have kicked in. And they seemed pretty happy with my monologues. I may have even gotten a kind of drumming on the table "applause" from one member of the panel. And I got told that my work was "excellent", which I'm just going to assume is something they don't just say.

I think I kind of sucked at the interview, though. But to me, expecting anyone to do the interview portion before they do their pieces is expecting some kind of superhuman composure. Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe I'm just woefully undercomposed.

Now the waiting game begins again. Of course, since they're seeing a couple hundred people in 3 different cities, my chances of being accepted are somewhat slim.

Tonight I'm going to a show, and perhaps even a couple of drinks. And this weekend, I'm rewarding myself by reading the new Sweet Valley book, which arrived at the library just in time.

The Day Before...

Just a quick post. I had another voice coaching this morning, which went great-- hopefully I can remember all the things I should do tomorrow morning. And at one point, he said something that really hit me, in regards to my song, but also in regards to, well, everything I'm doing.

"How much right do you have to speak here?"

Well, obviously, my character has every right to speak here, it's her song, it's her moment. And he said "Just remember, a lot of people go into the room worrying they're wasting the auditioners' time, but you have every right to speak, to have your moment. In fact, I give you permission."

Which was somehow quite moving.

I'm nervous.

Wish me luck tomorrow, 10:20am MST.

I'm Sick Of The Waiting Game... Let's Play Hungry Hungry Hippos.

So it wasn't enough to be refreshing my email over and over on deadline day, waiting to see if I'd been called in. Now I'm refreshing my email over and over in the hopes that my scheduled audition time will arrive.

The auditions are on Thursday. I am working Thursday. Which isn't a problem, as I have a very flexible arts-adjacent job where they recognize that while I'm very good at what they employ me to do, I certainly don't want to be doing it for the rest of my life.

But I really don't want to come to work on Thursday and have to watch the clock count down to my audition time and fret about how it's going to go all day. I'd much rather go in the morning, so it can be done and I can head straight to work and then out for several drinks at the end of the day. Of course, this means singing first thing in the morning. And being one of the first people they see, which I'm never sure how that goes-- will I set the standard for the day, or be entirely forgotten by day's end. They're also auditioning in two more cities, increasing my chances of being forgotten. I can only hope that they will be seeing me when they're still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and don't have the mid-afternoon naps, or gut rot from drinking coffee all day.

In the meantime, I've been dutifully preparing like a good little actor. I've been to visit an accompanist/voice coach, and I'm seeing him again tomorrow for a final tune-up. Monlogues are memorized and objective-d (objectified? object-lessoned?)I'm doing a sweet contemporary monologue, an intense Shakespeare, and a funny song. I feel like it shows a good range of what I can do. I am a little eek about perhaps I should be doing a funny Shakespeare, since the show is a Shakespeare comedy, but frankly, there isn't that much choice for the ladies in Shakespeare monos. I thought about busting out Viola's ring speech again, but decided against it. The AD has seen me do that one (not that he'd remember it), and I feel like I should be doing something different than the 20 year olds. I think my current choice (from Titus) will show I can handle my text.

Then there's the interview. Of course there will be an interview. I'm not sure if I'm more nervous about performing or about doing the interview.

I'm going to be so happy when Thursday afternoon rolls around, and all I have to worry about is a play reading. (Which the director, a local AD, has not spoken a word to me about, though I'm sure he's read the script. Does he hate it? Does he regret saying yes? Should I just ignore these feelings of insecurity?)

Send good vibes to me on Thursday, please!

I got called in for an audition.

For ye old Professional Development Program at the Big-Time Theat-ah.

It's sometime next Thursday.

I have to sing.

I may barf.

Eek!

Our Oven Is Broken.

Sigh. Bye bye, baked potatoes and lasagna! Auf wiedersehn, cookies! Arrivederci, strawberry rhubarb pies!

This morning we were making breakfast, and turned on the oven to brown up some potatoes, and there was this weird ZZZZZZT! sound, and now the oven doesn't work.

Could it be a fuse? Do ovens still have fuses?

We are going to have to do SO much cleaning if someone is coming over to fix the oven.

Friday the 13th

Well, tonight's the night we finally watch the last Friday 13 that Netflix (Canadian Netflix, at least) has to offer--Part VIII-- Jason Takes Manhattan.

(Every time I see this title I think: "First he takes Manhattan-- THEN HE TAKES BERLIN!")

Mysteriously, Canadian Netflix has Friday 13th 1 through 8, with the exception of part 5. Why, Netflix? Fortunately, I was able to catch up between parts 4 and 6.

I'm beginning to wonder if my singing teacher and I aren't a good fit for each other, communications-style-wise. I had another frustrating lesson on Tuesday. I don't know what to do. I think what I really want is concrete suggestions on things I can do, not a lecture about how my past life is affecting my singing in this life, or stuff about cellular memory or my aura. I don't think it has to be quite so magical or mystical. Of course, maybe I'm wrong. All I know is that it isn't working for me, and I can't tell if he's just dealing with something in his personal life that's coming through into the studio, or if I'm being unreasonable, or what.

I'm just not into pathologizing everything any more, you know?

ETA: Friday the 13th Part 8 is pretty much terrible. It's like 4 separate horrible, horrible movies crammed into one movie that never seems to end. Like, it's not even BAD good, it's just boring.

Taking A Step...

So here's the thing-- I'm thinking about auditioning for the Big Time Theatah's Professional Program, despite feeling rather ancient and incompetent. Because (a) they had several folks in their thirties (and even one pretty damn close to his forties) this year. And (b)I'll never know if I don't try.

It's one of those gigs where you apply to audition and then they let you know if they're interested in auditioning you a fairly short time before the actual auditions. Which are about a month away.

I would have to sing. A "short song" it says, and I suspect more to determine if I have any musical ability, and whether I am pleasant or awful to listen to.

But still, I would have to sing.

And let's not forget the acting-- I mean yes, I've obviously auditioned for things before, but there's something daunting about auditioning for what could be a whole table of people I know, and who have a pre-existing notion of me and my abilities. And it's scary.

Here's my thought process:

"Self, I think we should audition. Nothing ventured, nothing gained!"

"But I'm SCARED! What if I suck? What if they openly mock me? What if I have to see them at future events knowing that they know I'm a huge, untalented fraud?"

"Well, it's not like the world will end. You'll be what they're looking for or not. It's simple! It's 10 minutes out of your life!"

"But what if I don't suck and I get in and I have to go spend 12 weeks with a bunch of strangers, all the time worrying that I'm a huge, untalented fraud?"

"Sigh. Self, you're impossible."

Annnnd scene. I'm not sure if I'm afraid of failing or succeeding. Or both. But it might be a nice way to shake up the status quo and actually take some of the risks I keep wishing I would.

Of course, it's entirely possible that they won't want to see me at all, and this whole anxiety tornado will have been for naught. But I think I'll feel better for at least trying. It's cheesy, but somehow true.

Above the Belt and Come Forth, Motivation Unicorns!

So.
Still not tackling that rewrite-- I'm saving that for MAY, which is rapidly becoming some mysterious and magical time period when I will suddenly feel motivated to do a major overhaul of the play. I'm assuming the motivation unicorns (or whatever mythical creatures control motivation) will find me before next Sunday. Hey, they know where I live.

I realized that in this business, there is pretty much no way anyone could treat you so badly that your friends would not accept a job from said person. Money will always win out. And I can't say I blame them.

My agent almost gave me a heart attack yesterday-- once again I was following up about getting cash money for those commercials, and she said "Oh, you know, I never heard back from her. And her website is disabled. Do you know how to get in touch with her?"

Okay. There are a couple of issues with that communication. Firstly, was she ever planning on telling me she couldn't get in touch? Secondly, I was able to get in touch through the phone number I'd given my agent THREE TIMES. In fact, it was pretty easy to get in touch and follow up.
So I'm not getting ripped off (I think), the cheque (the most important thing) is in the mail.

Also: singing breakthrough! I can belt! (My old singing teacher would be horrified at the thought of me (or anyone) using the "vulgar" chest voice for anything, so if she's reading this, I'd like to assure her that I'm using a good, healthy mix). Apparently all my work on the upper register is paying off in the lower register. And it seems like some of the psychological turmoil has been resolved, to be replaced by Things I Can Work On Through Technique.

This is good news, people.

Very good news, indeed.

Another Day, Another Day Job

Last week I met someone who, at the ripe old age of 25, has never had a day job. He's an actor and writer-- I know he works a fair bit, but I never thought he worked that much. So it's possible that he lives in a cardboard box down by the railroad tracks, or with his parents, or breaks into apartments to take showers, or hasn't eaten anything but ramen noodles for the last four years.

But I digress. Of course I feel a tinge of envy for those who don't have to work, but I wonder too how much life experience they might be missing out on by only hanging out with theatre types.

I've never waited tables, but I have had some pretty stellar day jobs:
* video store clerk
* call centre agent
* case manager for employment services company
* payroll clerk
* photocopy jockey
* impersonated various secretaries
* data entry operator
* customer service clerk

That's off the top of my head. And I suppose it probably seems like I'm either really old, or I'm constantly getting fired. I actually just get bored really easily. And really, most of my jobs seem to use either (a) my excellent typing skills, or (b) my ability to simulate the impression that I really, really care. That's me, transcriptionbot/sounding board for the disgruntled.

So have I been wasting my creative energies trying to pay rent? Or is this all rich, rich fodder for the acting/writing mill?

Behold, I Have Returned, or First Draft Blues

Howdy, friends and neighbours!

I was hoping to keep you up to date on my progress through the second session of the Big Time Theat-ah Play Development Unit. But my plans were thwarted by said unit, as we spent roughly 8 hours a day discussing our plays, and then I went home every night to desperately try and do some rewrites.

It was intense. I had fun, but I'm glad it's over. I'm not so glad to return to my "real life" job dealing with customers and staff, but I suppose that's a reason to work that much harder, right? So I can exit the world of service into the world of the artiste.

Or something like that.

So. My play. Well, it started out as a solo, then morphed into a two-hander with one speaking actor, one silent actor. Two monologues, one after the other. After this latest reading the general feeling of the rest of the unitards seems to be that this would do much better as a standard two-hander. I realize that's hard to envision without knowing the play, but the overall note was "does your form serve the idea of the play?" and the resounding answer is "no".

I don't know how to feel about that. I don't know if I'm reluctant to let go of my oh-so-clever initial idea. Or if I really wanted to write a solo, and I've somehow failed in that. I mean, I really do want to write a solo, largely so I can have something to perform myself (we won't get into my current acting insecurities). It just might not be this play.

So that's disappointing, in a weird way. I haven't looked at it since we finished a couple of days ago. I know what the rewrite will look like, I'm pretty confident that I can give myself some breathing room before returning to it before the public readings in June.

In other news: I am somewhat annoyed with my agent. I'm not sure if she's just not that interested in me (I know she is extremely interested in the more commercial pretty blonde friend of mine who's also signed with her), or if there's just no film work here (which there isn't), but I rarely hear from her. It's a little tough to get a hold of her sometimes, as evidenced when I booked those commercials last month and tried to get her to negotiate the rate, because, isn't that what she does? And that means yes, she does get paid for work she wasn't involved in getting me. But she definitely got me a better rate than I would have gotten myself.

The problem is getting paid. She was supposed to invoice this woman, and after an appropriate amount of time had gone by, I contacted her to say "Hey, any word on that cheque from Employer X? I sure could use the money." And her response was "Oh, I never heard from her, I guess I could email her to invoice her, what's her contact information?" And then I gave that to her. And now I'm chasing her down again.

Not good, I know. I probably need to switch to someone else. And a friend of mine had some rather interesting problems with a writing agent that he never officially severed his relationship with, so lesson learned, I need to be assertive in this situation.

And I've been away from voice lessons for a month due to scheduling, so looking forward to getting back on Tuesday.

And that's the news.
What's new with you?

Sent

I sent in my (mostly) completed script tonight-- there are a couple of small bits in the middle that are missing. Hopefully those will get written before my reading on Monday, but I'm not going to be heartbroken if I can't figure them out.
There is a beginning. A middle. And an end.

It's a play! A weird, weird, play!

Free...

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the ridiculous aspects of this business. The ass-kissing, and the politics of being invited to certain things, or who's talking to you and who's snubbing you. It's so easy to get caught up in worrying about:

What does everyone think of me?

That you can lose track of what you're supposed to be focusing on. At least, I do. Why is it so easy to get obsessed with things you can't control? Now I'm not an Oprah person, but I've watched a few episodes in my day. And one of my favourite Oprah-isms is this:

It's none of my business what other people think of me.

Which, being an Oprah-ism, means she actually probably co-opted it from one of her guests, but I don't remember the guest, so sorry, guest! But I think it's a great mantra to try and remember. Hard to practice, though.

But I was thinking about it, specifically about how I've lived in this prairie city for just over a decade now, and there are still people who can't be bothered to remember my name, or who think I'm a stage manager (a gig I stopped doing years ago), or who see me as just the wife/girlfriend of a better-known actor/writer. Or the people who probably don't ever think of me at all, because frankly, most people think mostly of themselves, especially in the biz, where it is encouraged and admired for some reason.

And I got to thinking about it, and I was feeling slightly embittered about the state of my career in town, and how I was going to focus on out-of-town places, (probably a better market for my work, anyhoo), and how I was just going to do awesome indie stuff, and everyone else could suck it, and I suddenly realized:

Exactly who are these people? Who the fuck are these people that I'm spending so much time agonizing that they don't know my work, or think I'm talented, or whatever I'm accusing them of thinking or not thinking about me, when in reality they're probably not thinking about me at all?

And then I started thinking how great it would be to be free of that. To be free of a lot of worrying about what people have said or thought of me, artistically in particular. My parents, past teachers, past directors, current AD's, and so on and so forth. And imagined being free of feeling like I had to please those people, like I had to live up to some strange standard or negate some thoughtless, offhand comment from 10 years ago.

Wouldn't it be great to let go of that and just feel good about doing what I want to do? Not to worry if random people who can't remember my name think I'm good or talented or worthwhile?

To be free of seeking validation from others?

To be free to make decisions without going through a bunch of hypothetical opinions?

To be FREE?

And I guess I was having some kind of Artist's Way moment, because I started thinking about people in two groups: people who are supportive, and people who aren't. And I'm thinking I'm going to surround myself with those supporters, the awesome people who make me feel good. Haters, I'm sorry, you're moving out of a position of power in my life.

Because, seriously... when I, stubborn, independent, opinionated modern gal that I am think about all the ways I give up my own power...

That's got to change.

Anyone out there ever reclaim their power in that sense?
Should I go watch more Oprah?

Five To Go...

I think I'm down to about the last five pages for the Big Time Theat-ah Development Script, which is good news, because I have to submit it to the program facilitator in whatever state it's in tomorrow morning. Fortunately, I still get a week to revise it a little, and perhaps finish those last five pages. And, you know, make it make sense.

It's always a little daunting sharing something for the first time-- you live with it long enough that it becomes tiresome or boring or stupid, or whatever displeasurable adjective you can think of at the time. Experiencing other people hearing it can often bring it back to life. But a first draft... yikes. First drafts are tough. And this first draft is fresh out of my head and onto the page, so hopefully I'll at least catch the times I reworded and repeated the same paragraph three times, and all that other great stuff you do when you're trying to express an idea.

I'm assuming that everyone in the group feels squirrelly and nervous about hearing their first drafts read as well. Like me, they will just be covering it up.

I'm excited to go back into the forum, excited to hear where everyone's plays have gone, to discuss the plays we were assigned to read. I'm afraid that mine will be the worst, even in a situation where there really aren't any best and worst.

Going to try and read the whole thing through today before sending it tomorrow.

Ack.

Happy SVC Day, Y'All!

You mean you don't know what SVC Day is? Why, it's the day that Sweet Valley Confidential is released. What's Sweet Valley Confidential? Why, it's the novel that picks up ten years after the ever-popular Sweet Valley High series.

Are the twins still a perfect size six? What happened to the Fiat? Apparently Bruce Patman and Elizabeth are best friends now, Jessica's divorced, and Elizabeth cries when she has orgasms.

Suffice it to say that I am too cheap to buy my own, but so impatient about waiting my turn at the library that I may crack. I may have to steal over to the bookstore on my lunch hour and read a couple of chapters a day.

Solo

That's the kind of play I'm writing for the Big Time Theat-ah Development Opportunity. A solo. I've never written a solo before, at least not one that was longer than about 10 minutes. And it's hard. Like, really hard. And lonely. And you wonder if you're being a little bit boring. I did go see a couple of full-length-ish solos this year that made me feel a lot better about a single person telling a story being engaging.

Part of it I think is that for a regular play, I could say "Today I'm going to write the cocktail party scene" and there would be a separate scene, a separate chunk of script that I could write and it would be done and I would feel accomplished. But because of the nature of this play, there are sections, but not separate scenes per se. And so it just feels like I'm writing on and on and on without the same kind of guideposts as more people entering or exiting, or doing something gives you.

Currently, I'm writing 2 pages a day or more, which takes about as long as it would take to write 8-10 normal pages. It is driving me crazy.

On April 11 I have to hear it read. And it has to be done. I mean, not totally done. But to have a beeginning, a middle, and an end.

I will get there.

Oh you guys...

I'm watching "Bizarre Foods With Andrew Zimmerman", and he's "stranded" in the jungle in Mexico, forced to fend for himself.

My first question, which is really more of a comment, is:
If I knew I'd only be trapped for a day, I'd probably hold off on eating bugs. I'm not saying I would never eat creepy crawlies, but it wouldn't be a Day 1 priority. I know that wouldn't be great tv, but seriously, you can't go without eating for six hours? Didn't you eat before you left?

Fortunately, he's had some survivalist training. From a guy, who, no joke, is called MYKE HAWKE.
Obviously he's some kind of ex-military dude, because you'd pretty much have to machosize yourself with a name like that. Naturally this led to about a half hour of immature riffing on our part:

1) (AZ goes in for a hug) Whoa, first rule of the jungle--hands off Myke Hawke.
2) (while they're searching for food) You just relax and let Myke Hawke find something to put in your mouth.
3) (during the in-class portion of training) Myke Hawke is very experienced.
4) Etcetera.

I feel so juvenile. But I can't help it. I had this sudden dream sequence of being in this class to learn about survival, to learn vital information that I would need to make it on my own, and I wouldn't be able to focus. I would die in the jungle making jokes about Myke Hawke.

Hey-o!

Ambitions

Every year I think "This is the year I'm going to do generals," meaning general auditions. It's kind of an open call for theatre companies to see actors, once a year. You go in, do a couple of monologues or maybe a song, and they say "thank you" and then you leave.It's simultaneously basic and nerve-wracking. And by "doing generals", I mean actually travelling to surrounding cities to do generals (I already do generals here every couple of years).

Needless to say, this takes some organization. And advance knowledge and saving of money. And every year, I think "I'm not quite ready" yet. And I have a lot of standard "reasons" which are more correctly "excuses" as to why I'm not actively pursuing things. So next year, I have decided, I will be ready. Next May, yours truly is going to be travelling around Western Canada, having a grand old time trucking out her party pieces for new and exciting artistic directors.

I have said it. That means it has to happen, right?

In the meantime, I'm going to try and get in on a couple of companies that are having auditions in my city. Which is a little scary when it comes down to the reality beyond popping my photo/resume in the mail. But I have over a month to prepare. And who knows, they may not even want to see me...

Another ambition I have long held... a ridiculous, silly ambition? To record a Christmas album-- specifically 1940's/1950's Christmas songs. The beautiful and talented Sarah at Size 8 Struggle recorded a fab album last Christmas (so hopefully she doesn't think I'm copying her!) and I was so inspired by it. This ambition dates back to childhood years when I thought the greatest job in the world would be to be a lounge singer. I have a couple of songs picked out already...

Would that be silly and lame and self-indulgent? And if so, is it wrong for me to be so silly and self-indulgent?

Pushing vs. Being Pushy

I've been sending out my work. To a lot of different people, festivals, and theatres. I've sent my latest play to people who know me, who don't know me, who know some of my friends, and to complete and utter strangers.

It takes a while. And the expectation is that you won't hear back from anyone. Because it seems that all producing theatres have piles and piles of scripts from writers, and no time to read them all. Plus a lot of places already have plays in development with writers they already know,and it's a big risk to spend a lot of money on an unknown writer, etc. etc. etc.

So I can understand it taking months and months to even get a rejection letter back, especially when I've taken it upon myself to ask a busy stranger to read my work. But it's when people I know-- people in my own theatre community-- specifically request my play, and then don't respond to any kind of follow-up contact... well, that sort of bugs me.

And it's not like I send a script on Wednesday and I'm calling them on Friday asking them how I liked it. I mean, I let a decent amount of time go by. And I'm polite-- "Just following up, I'd love to hear your thoughts, etc."

It's no secret that I hate the schmooze. I mean, there's legitimate networking, and then there's the schmooze. The fakey-fake, poured-on, ass-kissing of self-congratulation. And I'll bet some people would say "well, you're in the wrong business, then." But I don't think it has to be that way. I just don't know the line where gentle pushing becomes pushy.

I feel like there needs to be a little mutual excitement about working together. I know people are busy, I know you have to keep reminding people about yourself, but I feel like after I've called a couple of times, emailed a couple of times to follow up, I'm being pushy. And if you're not interested enough to even say "Not for me, no thanks." or "I really liked it, but I'm swamped, let's schedule something for next month." or whatever, if it left such a small impression on you that you don't even care to get back to me, well... is it something I should be pushing at all?

And please understand, I'm talking about people I know, who I see regularly. Am I wrong? Is it not correct to assume that people should be at least a little interested in a play I spent so much time on?

Or do I just need to be pushier?

Act Two...

Yes, I am now ensconced in Act Two, still hoping that I will eventually figure out what I am writing about. And I think I'm on track to finish by my deadline.

I've realized that I have pretty much no free time until sometime after April 20, when the second session of the Big Time Theat-ah Development Variety Hour concludes. Until then, my time is eaten by:
1)working
2)writing
3)seeing plays
4)reading the assigned plays for the Theat-ah Development thing-y
5)trying to make money

Making money, my favourite and least favourite topic. We are a little broke, my friends. I know, nothing new. But we're both trying to make a concerted effort to get rid of some debt so we can do fun things instead of eating spaghetti 4 days a week. This also means I accept strange standardized patient gigs, because I need need need the money. Listing stuff on Amazon (although nothing has sold yet), counting change. You know the drill.

The other day in rehearsal, a local actor/writer-type person apparently told J that she envies our life, which is kind of hilarious, because she's certainly what I would consider more successful than me. But I guess where we really went right (according to her, anyway) is not having kids to get in the way of our creative careers. If we had kids, I would make them get jobs. Ok, I probably wouldn't.

I also got to go see a dietician this week, which I thought would be lame, but was actually pretty cool. Let the healthy, balanced eating begin!

And apparently there is some kind of public workshop planned for the plays at the Big Time Theat-ah throughout next season. How do I know this? I read it in a program the other night.

Hopefully more information is forthcoming...

Awkward Encounters

I had a weird experience this morning... I got on the bus to go to work, and there was this woman smiling at me... and she looked very familiar. Now, I'm notoriously terrible with names, so it took me a second to remember. Turns out she was a shrink I saw for a few months a couple of years ago... She was a masters student at the time, and only a couple of years older than me. I think her specialization was art therapy, and we probably would have had a lot in common, had we not had that pesky headshrinker-client relationship.

I wasn't really sure if I should sit next to her, or talk to her, or what, but we ended up chatting for the ride downtown. I guess she lives in my neighborhood.

WEIRD. I mean, not pathological weird, but weird, nonetheless.

Don't Hold Your Breath...

This is the instruction that my voice teacher gave me yesterday. Like, quite literally, don't hold your breath. Which is a bad habit of mine. Because, friends, I hold my breath ALL THE TIME. It's some kind of stress management/holding back emotions/who knows why psychological quirk of mine. I could probably go on for ages, analyzing it. But I won't.

Apparently I had a bit of a breakthrough at yesterday's lesson, which has left me feeling a bit unguarded and vulnerable. See, when you hold everything back behind a safely clenched diaphragm, releasing it makes you a little loopy. Just letting it all go makes you a little anxious.

And I'm confused about tension vs. impulse vs. normal, non-tense muscle activity, and a host of other things.

I just want to sing! How hard should that be?

To keep in mind while writing...

The only person expecting the first draft to be brilliant is me. All anyone else is expecting is for the draft to be done.

Take deep breaths and repeat.

It's startling to sometimes see so clearly that the creator of most of my obstacles is myself.

I made it!

Yes, I finished shooting yesterday, and I'm glad the 3 days is over. I didn't get fired for being lame/fat/untalented/having a terrible wardrobe, all of which was a great relief. Although I am going to miss having someone do my hair and makeup.

I get the feeling that I wasn't on the greatest set ever-- the director was... inexperienced, and there were a few times I noticed a wee bit of tension between the crew and the director (who didn't seem to have a good understanding of the process and preparation involved). I tried to be the model of professionalism-- oh, you want me to hold the plates at this level? Can do! This time don't turn my head until after I finish my line? No problem.

I'd kind of forgotten that film stuff is incredibly technical for the actor... you're kind of like a prop that can talk. An important prop, but still a prop that's expected to stand, move and talk the same way every take. We were shooting with kids on the first couple of days, which was challenging, because they couldn't keep track of things like not looking into the camera during every. single. take.

I don't know when I'm going to be on tv. From my understanding, they'll be starting the ads on their website first, then broadcasting them on television towards the end of the summer.

I'm pretty proud of myself. And pretty excited about the paycheck, too.

Tomorrow is the big day...

You guys, I am so nervous! I am shooting all day tomorrow, Monday evening, and Tuesday all day. In the first commercial I'm a harried mom (mom? I'm old enough to be a mom?), in the second I'm half of a fun young couple. First shoot has no dialogue, Tuesday has a few pages (which I need to get my ass in gear and memorize).

Here's a sample of some thoughts running through my brain:
What if I suck?
What if everyone realizes I don't know what I'm doing?
What if my clothes choices (from my very limited wardrobe)are awful?
What if I look even chunkier on camera?
What if they fire me for sucking/not knowing what I'm doing/having terrible clothes/being chunky?

Yes, it's a full-blown riot, where self-esteem and anxiety team up to make me lose sleep. Here's what I try to tell myself:
Clearly I don't suck, because I got hired. Also, we can always do another take if something doesn't work.
Obviously I won't know what I'm doing--it's my first commercial. That's why questions were invented.
My clothes are what they are-- I'm going to do my best with what I have.
I have no idea if I'm going to look chunkier or not. I assume that since they'd seen me on camera before hiring me, it's not going to be a huge shock to them.
If I get fired, I'm going to make my agent have them pay me for at least the day. But I'm not going to get fired.

It doesn't help that I had one of THOSE dreams last night... really weird dreams where I was a photographer and interviewing all these people I knew, and realizing gradually that none of them actually liked me and they wished I would just leave, so I slunk out into the parking lot, where some kind of hillbilly hoe-down was taking place, complete with a buffet of various types of live beetles.

OK, the dream itself makes no sense, but it was still one of those dreams where you wake up and feel all disappointed because of how people treated you and it takes a while to remember it was just a stupid dream. And while we're on the subject, I clearly remember being entranced by the movie "Waking Life", where they told you that one way to tell you're dreaming is that tech things don't work, and writing is incomprehensible. Yet I even more clearly remember a chafing dish of giant red beetles with a handwritten sign saying "Got to get your RED MEAT!". So am I some kind of dream weirdo who can read things in her dreams? Does that not happen to everyone?

It doesn't help that I am working pretty much constantly. I need a day off. I miss the days of working 3 hours shifts and then wandering around having coffee and thrift store shopping. I miss naps. I miss having time and energy to cook something more complex than grilled cheese sandwiches or spaghetti. Soon spring will come and I will have more time. And then the summer, when we're not open into the evenings.

Soon!

Heard back from my agent...

And it looks like the commercial gig is a go! I shoot Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. And my job is being lovely and understanding and giving me the time off! And the best part of all is that I'm getting paid a pretty handsome amount of money.

Could I be living the dream?

Well, I wouldn't go that far. I do have to bring some wardrobe options, which I'm a little nervous about, since my wardrobe is a bit limited at the moment. I may sneak in a quick Value Village run and see if I can pick up a couple of new-to-me items.

That and I have to squeeze in a couple of plays, several full days of work, and lots of writing between now and then. Basically, March feels like I'm working 24 hours a day, every. single. day.

I can't wait till April. For one, I will likely have at least some time off over Easter. And the next session of the playwrights unit will feel like a vacation. An intense, mentally tiring vacation.

Putting Myself Out There

The other day I was volunteering for a local theatre company's casino-- I'd heard the food was miles better than bingo food, and what could it hurt to show some support, mix and mingle and help out... particularly with season announcements just around the corner?

I was chatting with the AD (artistic director), who was lamenting that he felt he was never going to "break through" to the next level (those of you who know me for realz may know him... actor/writer/designer/artistic director). Anyhoo, I confessed that I felt the same way. He said that he thought I would, but wondered if I meant as an actor or a writer. I said both ideally, but I just feel like I'm never going to get cast in work I don't have a hand in creating. And he said he did think I'd find work as an actor, but that I had to keep reminding people that I'm an actor.

And not just because I write, although that doesn't always help my case. It's because there are... well, there are a lot of actors. Even here. And it's easy to forget people, or think they're not interested, or think they're focusing on doing something else now, like writing. And really, I need to put myself out there more, remind people that I'm here, I'm good, and I'm ready to work.

I don't quite know how to do that. Do yet another round of generals? New pictures? Become one of those people who self-promote really well without being completely obnoxious about it?

I need to say yes to more things. Like this thing: in April I will be joining some fellows who do a Mystery Science Theatre-style riff on bad movies-- my movie? Twilight. They need a lady's point of view, and they thought I'd be funny. Will I be funny? I don't know. It's one thing to make comments in the warm cosiness of your living room, quite another to make them into a microphone in a theatre full of people.

I guess we'll see...

Booking it...?

Well friends, it looks like some acting work may have fallen into my lap. I say "may" because it's not 100% confirmed yet, but the long and the short of it is that some marketing lady saw me in a comedy sketch I filmed for a troupe here before Christmas, and wants to put me in a couple of commercials.

Now before you imagine me being discovered at Schwab's or something, I will stress that these are local commercials, probably of the slightly hokey persuasion. I will also stress that I am waiting until she says "Yes, you are the person I mean", because apparently she thought she was contacting me a month ago, and she was actually contacting another girl from the video. Wouldn't it be hilarious if that happened again? And by hilarious, of course, I mean completely and totally unhilarious.

In any case, I've talked to her, emailed her my photo so she can be double-sure it's me she means, and given her my agent's contact information. (Amazing how my agent is suddenly extremely interested in my life once there's the prospect of getting paid-- but that's another story).

We shoot Sunday, Monday night, and Tuesday all day if this is in fact the gig. Should be a goodly amount of money for my trouble, I'm thinking.

OK, that's the quasi-news for the day. Back to writing.

And Hair We Are...

OK, that's the name of a salon across the street from my salon. For some reason, I find it endlessly funny. Partially because I imagine the day the person thought of it, and presenting the idea to someone. I imagine the presentation involved jazz hands, a sunny smile, and one of those loaded pauses that happen when you're waiting to be praised.

In any case, I got my hair cut a couple of weeks ago. Those of you who do not know me in person may not realize that I have twice the head hair of a normal person. I have a lot of hair, which is very thick, and vaguely wavy. I know, I shouldn't complain. Lots of thin-haired people (I thought about coming up with a clever name for them, but it's too cold to think)would love to have my hair.

Except thick uncooperative hair can get crazy looking, y'all. And my new haircut, which I loved loved loved styled curly (the ends are now thinned out enough to make this possible), has had some kind of mental event since it encountered the horrible, nogood, verybad cold and dry weather we've been having. It's kind of a disaster at the moment. I hesitate to flat iron it every day, but maybe that will solve the problem. I don't want to start fooling around with a curling iron on a day when I actually have to be somewhere, because we all know that makeup and hair experiments will invariably go awry when you have to be at work in 45 minutes. And my hair's too short to go with the ever-forgiving ponytail.

In other news, it's really fucking cold! I think it's been around -35 to -40C with the windchill the last couple of days, with no real end in sight. I always feel like bitterly cold weather is the most wearing on the soul. A lot of people will talk about the lack of daylight in winter, but for me, it's the cold.

I got another couple of requests for complete scripts based on submissions, which I consider to be a victory. One of them is a new play festival in the US. One is a theatre company. So fingers crossed, I guess.

Still working on the first draft. We've also been assigned to send in the title of our favourite play, the play we worship and never tire of getting excited about. I'm not sure about this one. I have to resist the urge to impress and make some kind of honest choice. I'm curious to see what everyone else will pick. I have an idea of what mine is, but it's completely different than anything I write, so I have a feeling everyone will be surprised.

Back to work. Happy Thursday, friends!

When is a day off not a day off?

a) when you have to go in to work at 5pm
b) when you can't get your mind off of your real work passion
c) when you get excited about having "free time" because it means you can get all the stuff on your to-do list done.

Yes, I'm working a late shift today, which is kind of a treat. Normally I would go out and have a bit of a shopping adventure, but it's bitterly cold here (so, so sick of that), and I'm broke. So I got some groceries, and am currently making lunches for the rest of the week.

On the menu? Besides the regular fruit and veggies, I'm giving the famous Veganomicon chickpea cutlets another shot. I kind of overdid them the first Christmas I went home as a vegetarian-- my parents were less than accepting, and I didn't want to be a huge bother. Hence I packed a stack of these in a tupperware in my luggage, and ate 2 every day over the holidays. Needless to say, they needed a break from the menu rotation.

I've spent some time working on a couple of submissions-- currently my half-to-one page play summary is close to two pages long. Oops. I'll be spending some time trimming this down tonight. And my somewhat ambitious goal is to get the complete first act of the new play in draft form by the time March rolls around. Leaving March and part of April to write the second act and do some rewrites.

Sometimes, I wish I wrote more commercial stuff. I've been looking at all the audition notices for the summer rep companies, and reading the synopses of the plays they do... it makes me wonder if I'll ever get produced. Not that I'm writing out there, controversial pieces about poop and abortion and child literacy. And I think there's already plenty of easily digestible, tv-like plays out there already, that completely absolve the audience of any need to think.

But still.

Anyway, the oven just beeped. Chickpea cutlets are calling!

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

I've decided to do a bit of a blog makeover, so until I find the time and knowledge to design my own, I'm going to try a few free templates from the wide, wide world of web.

What do you think?

Happy Valentime's!

Hello, friends. I know, it's been a while. My life has been both busy and insanely boring, at the same time. I've been working a lot, to try to come up with some cash to (1) pay off some debt, (2) go on a holiday at some point, (3)attend my brother's wedding, (4)get some new clothes, and (5)not to feel like I'm broke all the time.

It's been a coupon-clipping, grilled-cheese-and-soup-eating kind of month. And it looks like next month isn't any better.

However. I need to do something creative and cheap for Valentine's Day. It can be cheesy and lame, but I am having a hard time coming up with ideas. Apparently I blew my wad on the best Valentine's surprise *evarrr* the first year we were going out (it was cheap and cheesy, involving a scavenger hunt and drug store chocolates). But I've had a request from J to "do something cool again" for V-Day.

Hmmmm.

Now, you'd think that the perfect place to look for ideas of this nature would be the internet... the interwebs, with their vast selection of blogs, repository of women's magazine articles. You'd think that if there was an idea to be had, the inter-tubes would have it.

And I'm sure there are plenty of awesome ideas to be had, they just may not show up on the first page of Google. Because I have to say, hug coupons are not that great to give between adults, Canadian Living. And Martha Stewart Living,while your taste level is unassailable, I can pretty much guarantee that I'm not going to make my sweet baboo a floral arrangement made of painstakingly glued, hand-cut, crepe-paper flowers. Nor do I agree that decorating a heart-shaped box with antique lace and baking "precious jewel" candies to go inside is a "quick and easy gift". I'm sorry, but you just don't get that time back.

Do they write magazine articles for this predicament? Being normally a cool and clever person who is a little strapped for time and cash, and needing to come up with an awesome gift that can be assembled from things found (1) at the drug store or dollar store, and (2) during my extremely limited lunch breaks, and (3) is not a gift certificate for a foot rub, or an hour of watching sports without complaining, or some other bullshit like that.

What magazine would that be? Why am I not reading it? If it doesn't exist, why am I not publishing it?

Actually, I do have a few ideas. Some of them may or may not be ripped off from that great waiting room literature, Canadian Living. But I have to be careful to save up some DIY gift ideas for next December, because I've been informed that we may be experiencing Imagination Christmas.

Which at least saves me from trying to knit a pair of socks in the next three days.

Pet Peeves

OK, I will admit, I'm not always a team player. In fact, I often have very little tolerance for my fellow humans. I can't recall if I ever got the "does not play well with others" comment on my report card (though I did have a music teacher who enjoyed putting comments like "Frequently without gym uniform"), but it would probably still be apt.

I'm always amazed at "people persons" (person persons? people people?). You know, those people who need to interact with others each and every day and are miserable without socializing? They're usually pretty chipper, which is not a word that has ever been used to describe me. I mean, I could go for days without having a conversation with anyone besides J. When he was away on tour, I spent a lot of time blissfully away from other humans. I enjoy my solitude, is what I'm saying.

Which makes it doubly hilarious that my current job is in customer service.

Anyhow, my pet peeve for the day: I belong to a weight loss message board. (I kind of love internet message boards, though I never post. Even my virtual self is anti-social!)While I mainly like to track my food and exercise and use it motivationally, I like to skim through the message boards. I'm always kind of amazed at people who "don't like any fruits or vegetables", or who don't understand "how on earth people can eat 5 servings of fruits and veggies a day?" But the one I hate the most, the thing that gets repeated over and over and over:

MUSCLE WEIGHS MORE THAN FAT.

OK. Muscle doesn't "weigh more than fat". A pound of muscle weighs the same as a pound of fat. Which is the same as a pound of feathers, or a pound of butter, or a pound of Tinker Toys. Leaving aside that "I've been working out for 3 days and the scale hasn't budged" query, the proper response isn't "well you know, muscle weighs more than fat! go4it!"

Muscle is more dense than fat. So it takes up less space than fat. But it weighs the same.

I know, I know that I shouldn't get my blood pressure up about stuff on the internet, but eventually, the aggravation wears me down.

Monday!

Well, friends, it's Monday again. I'm here at work, where I've recently accepted a promotion into a kind of supervisory role... Ultimately I will do less face-to-face everyday customer service (yay!), but will probably deal with escalated customer service issues. And do more admin-y stuff, which I'm looking forward to learning about. I'm a bit leary about "am I getting sucked into a steady job because of the stability?", but at this point I could use the money, the benefits, and... well, the stability. I want to be able to afford to do all the stuff I have planned this year, and save some up to do some more stuff. And if I don't like it, I can always step down. Or find a new job if that's not possible.

Last week I went to a very strange alternative therapy, which aroused the skeptic in me. It was something I wouldn't have sought out myself, but an old friend of mine is now an enthusiastic practitioner, and offered a complimentary session to me. And since it was free, I decided to go with it and just take the chance to meditate on some stuff.

Honestly, I think some alternative treatments/modalities are great, and some of them just seem like utter BS. The little science nerd in me keeps raising her hand and saying "Dude. Wait, what?" And then the little hippie nerd in me is all like "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio..." Except she says it like she's in the movie Clueless, so Horatio has about four extra syllables.

ANYWAY, as questionable as the science behind the treatment was, some of the discussion we had afterwards was quite valuable-- which led me to think this weekend of how much of my life I've spent trying to "impress" others, trying to get validation from them. (I suppose if I had to get specific about it, I would say I spent an awful lot of my childhood trying somewhat unsuccessfully to get my parents' approval-- I've gotten a little better about approval-seeking in general, but this one still hits home).

Ever been to alternative therapies? From getting your chakras balanced to getting a hole drilled in your forehead, I'm curious. (Speaking of holes drilled in your forehead, the best class I ever took in university was The History of Medical Practice-- 1700 to Present Day. Drilling holes in your head to let the gnomes out, stomachaches caused by a demon in your stomach, blood poisoning caused by masturbating. I could go on. It was awesome.)

ETA: Just wanted to note that I got my most prestigious rejection letter yet-- rejected from the Sundance Theatre Lab (yes, that is Sundance as in THE Sundance). This is not so bad, and certainly not unexpected. Getting rejected by more prestigious places means I actually think enough of myself to apply to such prestigious places. Which is good! But boooo on Robert Redford for not thinking I'm a genius. (Actually, I'm pretty sure Redford doesn't read any of the submissions for theatre. Pretty sure.)

Tuesday

So the weather defeated both me and my friend, and I think we were both relieved not to have to go out and entertain each other after a multi-hour, multi-delayed plane ride/frigid day of hiding in a cold, cold house.

Do you ever get into a creative rut? I do. All the time. Friends tell me it's a part of being creative, but I always imagine everyone else's process being infinitely joyous and fulfilling. Unlike mine, which seems to bring misery and frustration. I know I'm in a rut when I start to get obsessive over how much better everyone else's career is going. Because everyone else is booking the jobs, is meeting the right people, is going on worldwide tours of edgy new works. Everyone else is prettier, or younger looking, or more talented, or more confident, or, or, or...

You see where this ends up, right? And that's no fun. Fortunately now I'm starting to recognize the warning signs, and am attempting to haul myself out of it before a full-blown crise-du-confiance rears its ugly head.

Today is a long day. I like to cram as many things as possible into my non-work time, apparently. So this morning I had a doctor's appointment, a singing lesson, and now I'm at work for the evening shift. Maybe I'm feeling creatively meh because I can NEVER LET MYSELF RELAX WITHOUT FEELING GUILTY?

How is your Tuesday going?

Not Looking Good...

Well, I'm pretty sure I didn't book a part in that film... was it the weird eye? My chubbiness? The fact that they wanted either 22-25 or 35-45 and I am slightly too old/too young-looking for either of those categories? I know I read well. So maybe it's that vague, frustrating "you weren't quite what we were looking for". I think that if I could get more auditions, they'd become more businesslike for me-- plus I'd be in more practice. Here's hoping that the spring/summer brings more production to my prairie home.

It's been cold cold cold and snowing all weekend, so I've been housebound for a couple of days, save for doing the weekly grocery shop-- just a few more weeks of poverty before we can start buying name-brand groceries again. I've got another freelance editing job for the month of February, which will pay ridiculously well and will contribute nicely to our travel savings fund.

I have a friend coming in from out of town for work, and he may be calling me to go for drinks later on... is it wrong that I'm not totally excited about venturing out on the frozen planet of Hoth to go for a beer? I feel like a bad friend, he's only here for less than a day. I'm sure I'll go. I'll go. But I'm secretly hoping he's too tired to play tonight.

Bad friend!

This Day Can Only Get Better...

As I think I've whined about mentioned a few times lately, I've been rather sick over the last week. Yesterday I finally stopped with the consta-sneezing, consta-snotting, and dopey-headedness. I was starting to taste food again. A time for rejoicing!

Then this morning I woke up with my left eye all swollen and puffy. I'm going to chalk that up to sinus irritation, since it's happened before (and fortunately hasn't spread to my entire eye, as has happened before)... just the underside of my eye was puffy. Of course, this was the morning of my audition, just me in a room with a camera and six people who'd never met me, and could probably only wonder if my headshot was massively photoshopped.

I briefly considered calling in sick to the audition. I actually had a little debate with myself in the bathroom mirror as I pressed an ice pack to my eye. I decided to go, not only because I didn't want to be "that person" who blows off auditions (good reason or not), but because it wasn't that bad. I figured I could throw a little makeup on it, and besides, taking a brisk walk in -28C weather could probably only help the swelling, right?

And it kind of did. Except that it sort of spread out the swelling and gave the underside of my eye a distinctly purple outline. Basically, I look like someone clocked me in the face. Which was kind of interesting walking around downtown at lunch hour, people looking while trying not to look. I felt a little bit like a tough girl, which believe me, I am not.

And then came the audition. It was a little awkward, but I think the read itself did well. They didn't mention the eye, and neither did I. I don't know if that was the right thing or not-- it's been drilled into me that you don't mention that you're sick, because it comes across as making excuses. And what if it wasn't as noticeable as I thought? What if by mentioning it I just POINTED OUT MY WEIRD EYE AND THEY COULDN'T LOOK AWAY FROM IT?

It was a pretty in and out kind of read-- I'll hear soon whether or not I booked it. And I'm glad I went. Now I'm at work, starting early, settling in for a long shift till close.

Tip of the day: always have some kind of granola bar on hand at home. This will provide you with a more suitable breakfast than a mini babybel and a weird concentrated fruit and veggie bar you buy at the corner store.

Maybe She's Born With It... Maybe It's Added In Post

There's a lot of things to complain about in advertising, particularly advertising that's targeted at women. But for some reason, it's mascara ads that drive me up the wall.

I've got a pretty good set of natural eyelashes, and I've tried a few mascaras in my time-- whether it be volumizing, lenghthening,or some play on triple-X. There've been good products and bad products, but none of them have ever given me the ludicrously cartoon-like lashes they show in mascara ads.

And it pisses me off! I mean, not that I don't get the advertised results, but that the false advertising is so blatant. All these commercials about blasting your lashes, or maximizing your flirting potential, or achieving full confidence as a woman, and they're showing closeups of some model with showgirl drag-queen-worthy lashes. And in the small print it says "False lashes used" or "Lashes enhanced during post-production".

Which I totally don't get. Because aren't the eyelashes the thing they're selling? How can they show this girl with eyelashes up to her eyebrows and say "Aren't these great? You'd need a CGI guy following you around. Also, we sell mascara. Which has nothing to do with this look." And why does everyone just accept that mascara commercials are just fake? Or does everyone know they're fake? Do some women layer the mascara on and on in the hopes of achieving the My Little Pony Eye effect?

These commercials drive me into an inexplicable rage when I see them.
Are there any commercials that are like that for you?

What Do You Mean I'm An Overachiever?

So I'm sick. Sick in the way that I only get sick every couple of years, what with the stuffed up sinuses and the cough and the mysterious inability to stay awake for more than 20 minutes at a time-- merely a third of an episode of Groomer Has It, as I discovered yesterday. Not only does being sick lead to some confusing tv times (like waking up in the middle of Who Wants To Be A Superhero when you are still mentally in the Nigella Cooks headspace, but I also called in sick yesterday, the one and only time in the 18+ months I have worked here. I'm back at work today, mercifully I am down in the dungeon on phones rather than having to face customers in the flesh.

But here's a quick "to-do" list I just jotted down for myself on a piece of scrap paper:

*Massage
*Give blood
*Join Y
*Sides for audition
*Acupuncture

Oh, just a few things I dashed off that I need to do. Why not include "Win Governer General's Award for drama"? Or "Win Canadian Idol: Easy Listening Edition" (which I wish they had for old fogeys like me).

I can't decide if it's because I feel slightly guilty for being sick and not accomplishing something, or if too much time on its own causes my mind to wander into the realms of fantasy. Or both.

I am pretty determined to book a massage, once I get paid next week. A few of my dancer-type friends have been suggesting the excellent rolfers that they have found. I don't know why, but I've always been afraid of being rolfed. Possibly some buried association with a particularly aggressive theatre school instructor. I don't know, it sounds like it's super hard core. Anyone been rolfed? Is it incredibly painful?

No further C's have been sung on this front, by the way. Maybe I should add it to my to-do list!

Today...

I sang a high C in my lesson today. I know! Nobody is more surprised than me.

Now I'm terribly, terribly sick with a chest cold.

Coincidence?

Could the gateway to my upper register have been blocked by thousands of GERMS and VIRUSES, rather than YEARS OF PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLSHIT? Could my upper register be protecting the world from A NEW PLAGUE and not AVOIDING MY TERRIBLE SELF-ESTEEM ISSUES?

Eh, maybe a little from Column A and a little from Column B.

Small steps

So, remember that indie I booked a few months ago? It kept getting pushed back and back, and now has undergone rather significant script changes, to the point where it's kind of an entirely different movie. As a matter of fact, the original film was cancelled before Christmas, and they're starting the process over again. Meaning another round of auditions.

I was struggling to just make myself book a slot, because it's been a while since I did an "in the room audition" (the last couple of auditions I've had have been submitted on tape), and I get nervous about all kinds of stupid things. It's the kind of thing that I have to just force myself to get back into-- I'm sure if I lived in a market where auditions came fast and furious, I'd be able to get on a roll, because I honestly do really like auditions and cold readings. Anyway, I just sent an email to book the slot, so this week I'll be learning some sides and giving myself some serious pep talks.

I found this article on letting go of perfectionism somewhere in my recent internet travels, and I was really struck by how many points hit home for me-- I was definitely raised in an environment where grades/achievements/awards were praised and expected. And I can definitely see how perfectionism (which is really about trying to get approval/validation) is blocking to me-- I get to the point where I'm paralyzed about trying something for fear of failing in front of someone. I want to try new things, though. I want to be fearless. And if it's not possible to be totally fearless, I'd like to be fearless-er.

This year, people! Remind me of my current optimism when I burn out sometime in late May, will you?