So as an answer to several frustrated prayers I have finally had a normal audition! For a while I wasn't going to even mention it on this blog because it was so normal, but I realized I have to celebrate this in some way!
I had yet another call for an improv audition, this time for a holiday show. I decided to do some more background checks on exactly who I was auditioning for. I want to make sure I was going to an audition and not a random back alley taping.
Usually when I research the person I'm auditioning for I get a direct link to a Facebook page, which in short means that there won't be a whole lot of info to pull on the person. Sure I could awkwardly friend request them in order to stalk through their photos, notes, comments, and status updates.
But that's just creepy. And sooo last month.
So when I came across a few articles on this director and his work, I knew I wasn't dealing with my typical audition. The first article talked about how he was a playwright who had produced work that recently went to Broadway. This would have been enough to impress me had I not read further and found out his hit show was an impassioned story about the people involved in the Columbine shootings.
From what I could glean this guy has worked not only as a playwright but as an actor and producer.
In short, this guy looks legit.
The theater where the audition was held was one I had been to before. I had seen a friend perform her one woman show there, I had an audition for a play there, and I had even auditioned for an agent there. So when I went in I already felt at home.
I knew where the bathroom was, I knew what the stage looked like, and for the most part I felt good vibes from the place. The longer I remain in California the more insane my reasoning gets, but I really am taking notice of "vibes" when I go to places. For instance, creepy-back-alley-falsely informed-audition equates to bad vibes in my book. So does embarrassing-pasadena-karaoke audition place. Where as this place and... well... hold on I know I'll think of a good vibe location... there must be... another..
...
I'll get back to that later.
A lot of it depends on my apprehension and the previous experiences, but a good majority of the feeling also depends on the people occupying the space. It's a vast array, but like many of my performing counterparts, I like to people watch when I'm waiting for an audition. My perception of "vibes" (which I will now stop using air quotes for) depends on how people in the waiting room are acting. Whether they treat each other with respect or as untrustworthy opponents whom shall be vanquished.
As an actor its almost always the case that you'll have people trying to outdo each other. And it's usually the dumbest things too, 'Wow it's cold out there.'
'Oh I know, I'm such a wimp when it comes to the cold'
'Yeah I grew up in Arizona, so anything below 80 is cold to me'
'I've lived in California all my life and even if it's hot out, I'm cold!"
'Well I'm shivering because I didn't bring enough layers!'
So there. On and on it goes. Back and forth with info you really don't care about nor do you actually mean to be true.
Yeah... I take part in it too I'll admit. However, when it comes to common courtesy it is amazing how far people will go to trip up another just to get ahead.
On my last visit to this theater I had auditioned for an agent a friend recommended for me. Upon entering the theater's waiting room I was knee deep in prosti-tots and their overbearing stage parents. I was a very tall twenty something phenomena in this sea of future therapy clients.
I was a little lost because the only information I had was to show up at this theater. Confused, I asked a woman near by where I could sign in when she snidely remarked, 'Well, you need a headshot first.'
"Oh, yes of course, thank you I have one," I replied calmly, though I was punching her face in my head, "and a resume too! These silly credits change so often I can hardly keep it updated for long!"
Her giant maw only moved in a calculated glare. I wondered whether she has provided her daughter with a resume, as I pushed past her to find the monitor.
The audition went well enough, though I never received representation.
This was a good vibe location.
So when the holiday improv audition came I sent a begrudging prayer of "Can I just have one actual audition? I'm starting to forget why I like this so much. I feel like I'm not living in the same reality as these people."
I asked forgiveness for my impatience and sent then words of thanks that I was still able to do these auditions.
I walked into the waiting room that was thankfully filled with women of my age. We made polite conversation which soon turned into genuine talk. It wasn't long before we were all called in to the theater to begin the audition.
After a few short words we were up on the stage awaiting the guidelines for our instructions. Paul, the director explained that we should think of a Christmas character and that we had to give clues as to who we were. The others would ask us questions and we were to respond as that Christmas character.
At that moment my mind had gone of on a rabbit trail, as it often does. I don't know the exact details of the trilling thought, but it was at that moment the Paul pointed at me to start the game.
Realizing I hadn't thought of any character my mind jumped immediately to the Coca Cola Polar Bear.
Anyone may have thought, Rudolph, the Grinch, Tiny Tim, heck even the Ghost of Christmas Past would probably pop up. But no, I choose the bear.
As soon as the thought hit my body hunched over in a big wide stance as my lower jaw jutted out.
"Are you a boy or a girl?" The first person asked
Oh my gosh they're never going to guess this.
"Uh...Boy... I guess" I responded
"Are you human?"
"Nope!"
You're really going to have to give them more information than that.
"What do you like to eat?"
Awesome!
"Baby seals!"
They're still confused you goof, pontificate...
"which sounds harsh, but it's just who I am. Really at the end of the day I like to crack open a bottle of Coca Cola. Really slakes the thirst, you know what I mean?"
That's when I had them. They finally understood and from then on it was a lot of fun. We laughed, cracked jokes at each other, and saved each other when we understood. The director made adjustments and comments when it was necessary, but for the most part let us have free reign so that he could see how we worked and where we took ideas.
It was, amazingly, like a real audition. Apparently those do happen every now and then!
As I walked out of the audition that night I finally reached a level of confidence that allowed me to think, if I make it great if I don't oh well. Either way that felt great.
I jumped in my car and slammed the wheel shouting "YES! That's what I needed! THAT was an actual audition. Thank you thank you!! I wish they could all be as good as this!"
In the immortal dorky words of my father I shouted in my mind and aloud "That's what I'm talkin bout!"
My love was renewed and kindled once again. A glimmer of inexpressible hope spreading through my chest and creeping its way up my neck into a smile.
This is what I was made to do.
Sending hopeful smiles your way
~The Goof
PS If you wish to see this show I'm in, come to the Avery Schreiber Theater this Friday and Saturday. Tickets at the door, details found here http://www.averyschreibertheatre.com/
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
I'm Sorry, What?
So I've had two auditions today. A rare treat after the three week drought. The first audition went well, but Lord I was not expecting the second audition.
The description said they were trying to start something akin to Live in Color. An improv type show, why yes I'd like that very much thank you!
They said to prepare a 3-7 minute "skit' and bring a partner if you can. Well I had no duo act so I decided to bring Bertie along for another audition. I had a whole monologue set up. Rife with awkward twitches and informative tips on "being hip" I was set.
I grabbed my roommates Flip on the way out so I could get some shots for Bertie's next installment, plus it was like warming up on the ride over.
I left with plenty of time and got off the freeway on Woodman Ave. I suddenly had this weird feeling about that street that I couldn't put my finger on right. Then it hit me, Woodman Ave was the street I would turn on to get to Sherman Oaks. It was the street that I had taken to go to an old improv group, several auditions, and even a meeting with an agent. All of these places had been scams.
So needless to say I had a little prejudice about this street.
I turned down a few more streets until my GPS spouted 'you're destination is approaching' ... and that's when I saw nothing but a shady back alley.
Alright. I thought. It's just got to be past these... loading docks. Somewhere, near a main street maybe? I drove around the area, searching for the address.
Nada.
I called up my roommate to double check the address and quickly found out this place didn't really exist. I was about ready to head back tossing this audition aside as another stupid trick when I thought
Well it can't be a scam if they haven't even met me yet.
I thought back to one of my first Hollywood auditions, a production of Twelfth Night (apparently the only Shakespeare show SoCal does now days). I remember freaking out because I was late and the only thing I could find at this address was a tire shop. I had my dad look up the address and found out that they had transposed a few numbers. When I finally arrived I had a brilliant audition because all my nervous energy was gone and I performed to the top of my game.
So, calm down, this will work out. I got the auditioner's number from my roommate and gave them a call...
No answer.
I left a message, "Hi I'm supposed to be auditioning for you," I look at the clock, "right now, but I can't seem to find the building. I think that there's something wrong with the address you gave out. If you could call me back that would be great." Otherwise I'm going home and puttin my pj's on!
I hung up and pulled off to a side street waiting for the phone to ring.
A half hour goes by.
Annoyed I call again, this time someone immediately picks up, which threw me a little.
"Hello there"
"Oh, hi. Yeah I just called-"
"About the place, you can't find it! Oh yes, I know darling!"
Her voice was very cheerful, and somewhat British. Which immediately made me warm up to her because I love accents! Calling me darling was cute but instantly made me nervous that my attire, jeans tennies and a typical Bertie tank with a yellow jacket, was a little underdressed.
"Everyone's been calling me up saying they can't find the place. I'm on my way, I'm actually running late myself and I can't understand why! The address was in the email darling!"
"Oh yes I know, but it's incorrect or something, because I don't think it exists."
Her voice flipped into a stern, almost scold, "No. It exists."
Back peddle!! "Yes I know it does, but the address isn't anywhere I am. I think the numbers were-"
"Darling don't you have a GPS??
Woah there assuming, "Yes I do, but it's still not showing up. Can you tell me what the building looks like?"
She gave me a few small descriptions of what she could remember, gated building tan (maybe black) exterior, then said, "darling I'll call you when I get there and I have more info"
I hung up and started scouring the area for this vague building. Several of which were tan, and gated.
None were black.
All were either whole sale car supplies, or loading docks for Lord knows what.
I finally pulled up to an unmarked, Oh that's a good sign, building that was gated and looked almost like it could be an office. There were statues of steel people swinging baseball bats outside. I figured if anything this might be the place. So I parked my car in front and waited.
Another half hour rolls by, a sign above me reads One Hour Parking Only until 8pm. It's 6:45.
My nervous energy grows again.
**Warning. If the rest of this story makes you think I don't get it, you're not alone**
Just leave, this is weird.
I can't, what if this is a really great opportunity. I need acting And auditioning experience, any experience is... well maybe not any experience is good
It's getting dark...
I step out of the car to take a look around. A tall woman approaches me decked out in a turban, beautiful floral halter dress, and some expensive looking heels.
"Darling are you here for the audition?" Her accent is British, huzzah! I found the place!
"Yes I am, you must be-"
'"Eefy! But I'm really Pam"
"Oh...sure. Well my character's name is Bert-" And she just walked away. Okay.
I turn around to grab my headshot and Bertie jacket out of the car. As my butt is hanging out, she turns back and says, "Are you funny?"
I'm sorry, what....?
Not knowing how to respond I say, "Well I am now!"
What the hell does that mean?
I have no idea.
She stands by the gate as a shorter, older man slowly walks out. He literally saunters to the gate. When he opens it he says "Hey beautiful" and they Hollywood kiss each other.
She introduces me as I shake hands and he leads me into the dimly lit building.
Wow this would be cool for a Halloween haunted house... what am I getting myself into?
There were antique furnishings as far as the eye could see. Large princess chairs and kingly wardrobes. Huge fountains, and lengthy velvet curtains.
This would be cool, if it weren't so creepy.
I was led through the maze of furniture into a makeshift set. A large steady cam mounted on this ten foot extended arm sits in front of a huge flat screen monitor. Lights are mounted on polls facing this, I guess you'd call stage. A long red carpet led up to a raised platform with gold painted mirrors and greek-style pillars. Only problem was there was no where to stand on this 'stage,' just on the small bit of carpet in front of it.
I turned to see what this, I assume producer, was doing when I realized he was gone.
Sure.
Awkwardly I stand around and set my things down on a wooden chair. A chair that I've seen many times in several theaters, one that everyone uses to simulate a King's chair. Small backed maybe two feet in total height. Only this one was with thick wood, and intricate carvings of roses and leaves. A little bit fancier and sturdier than most theater props.
There was a couple sitting a few paces away from me chatting to each other. The woman wore a black dress silver jewelry and diamond studded shoes. She looked like she was expecting a dj to pop up with the latest hits. The man she was chatting with was gorgeous. A bit scruffy, as if he just neglected shaving for a few days and was sporting a dingy grey sweater, sweat pants, and tennis shoes. Despite his outfit, he had a camera ready look.
I went to stand by them, hoping that my presence would spark their attention and engage me into their conversation long enough to tell me what was going on.
It didn't.
I just ended up standing there next to them, looking around, as the chatted away in hushed voices.
Then my good friend Eefy/Pam walked back in with another person, who I think said her name was.... Nuna? She was also dressed to the nines.
Oh I'm so underdressed.
"Sorry everyone but this whole thing is a mess, I have to pee so bad. You all sit down in those chairs get acquainted and I'll be right back"
As we sat down the first woman asked me what I did, and what I was auditioning with. I told her I have a character named Bertie who beat boxes.
She stared at me.
"So... what are you going to do for the audition?"
In her thick Venezuelan accent she responded, "Oh I'm just here to clean, you know? The cameras... The wires..."
She laughed hysterically, clueing me into the fact that she was joking. The pretty man in the sweats on the other side of me laughed as well. I turned to him, "And what are you doing for this?"
"Oh no, I just came with her" he nodded to the Venezuelan woman.
"Yes, he's my lover."
"...Cool"
"But just for one night. I'm just going to hit it and quit it." She went on joking like this for sometime, so I turned to the second woman Eefy/Pam had brought in with her and asked what she'd be auditioning with.
"Oh I don't act. I'm here to support Eefy."
"That's great, what do you do?"
"I have my own line" Designer, no wonder she's dressed well, "But I want to take acting classes because I want to find my personality."
Uh...
"What kind of acting classes?"
"What do you mean?" The Eefy-assistant asked confused.
"Well there's a couple different methods of acting . You can do classical, contemporary, dramatic, comedic, improv.. anything. I really like improv because you know, it's just for fun."
I gave her info on some schools when good ol Eefy walked back in.
The director/producer/? suddenly behind the camera said, "Girl in the yellow go onstage"
Assuming that meant me I walked up to the platform, unable to actually go on the stage I waited on the carpet. The director swung the camera so it was facing away from where I stood and point it at the chairs I had previously been sitting in, and where Eefy was chatting away with the Venezuelan woman.
They joked and chatted for sometime, and I stood in front of the stage.. not knowing what to do.
The camera wasn't on me, and everyone was listening to Eefy. So...
Eefy turns to the camera and says, "Oh I didn't even realize you were filming me!" Blows a kiss, and continues talking to the other woman.
The director says "Okay where's the actors?"
I nerdly say, "here!"
He turns to me and says, "You're one of the actors?"
Ew "As far as I know..."
"Okay let's have Eefy come in and sit in the middle. You in the black dress here, and yellow girl sit on the right"
Yeah this yellow girl thing is not gonna fly.
So I do as he says and sit down. I turn to Eefy, "I don't know whats happening here"
"Oh darling we're just being natural"
"Sure, but what's going on?"
"We're just going to talk"
"Do I do my character.. or..."
"You can do a character if you want"
"Okay but, what-" Before I can say anything else Eefy was taking off sunglasses ontop of my head and fixing my hair.
"We want everyone to look good" She then handed my sunglasses to her assistant (the one on a personality quest) who took my sunglasses and disappeared.
Then the Venezuelan and Eefy were off on another joke laughing and having a good time. They talked and talked!
...I sat there.
Apparently that whole time they were filming.
"Oh I have my new fresh lettuce!" The Venezuelan laughed, nodding over to her 'lover'
"But darling, what happened to your Bank of America?" The keeled over with laughter.
"Oh he was an old piece of lettuce! He was wilting! I have my Wellsfargo now!"
And I sat there.
I would have laughed, it was honestly funny. But I still didn't know what the hell was going on!
After a while the director said "Okay yellow girl step out we're going to switch you with him"
'Him' being the Venezuelan's 'lover' who hadn't expected being filmed.
I walked off
At that point I thought, I want to go home right now. I grabbed my stuff, but then realized that I had no idea where my sunglasses were.
That's fine I'll just wait until they break and ask around for them.
But they didn't break. They kept going.
I sat next to who I assume was the first AD and she says, "So how do you know Eefy?"
Shocked, "I don't! I don't know what this is! I just submitted for this online, I don't know what going on!"
The AD instantly became the first real human being I met that night, "Oh my gosh! Oh you poor thing, this is like a reality show. Don't worry just wait around and you'll get your chance."
AT WHAT?!?
But the AD was back to working so I sat back down and looked over the area. Finally I spotted the sunglasses sitting in the Eefy-assistant's chair. I asked her for them and mouthed "I'm gonna head out" to the AD.
Eefy-assistant walked me out and said, 'Thanks for the info on the improv school, I'm sure it'll really help me find my personality."
Now I don't know what this woman was really searching for. But I figured it meant a lot, and anyway I could help her would be the right thing to do. Who knows, maybe she's just as lost in life as I am at this 'audition.'
"No problem I can give you my email if you want."
"That'd be great! Let me just prop open the gate so I'm not locked out"
As she was fiddling with the gate I went to my car to grab my phone and some paper. I turn back around to see the gate closed and the Eefy-assistant talking to the director. Suddenly they walk back into the building.
And I'm left standing there.
On the other side of the gate.
Which is locked.
Do I wait?
A few grueling wtf-minutes pass.
Nothing.
Screw it.
I get in my car and leave. All the while shouting out loud
WHAT?!
FRANK: “At the end of it all, you’ve got to have some spectacular cock-ups.”
CYRIL: “Because then you’ll have stories.”
FRANK: “And then you’ve had a life. You’ve had a life.” ~Slings and Arrows
If you'd like to see the woman Eefy in action go on YouTube and look up "Ask Eefy"
Confused yet laughing,
~The Goof
The description said they were trying to start something akin to Live in Color. An improv type show, why yes I'd like that very much thank you!
They said to prepare a 3-7 minute "skit' and bring a partner if you can. Well I had no duo act so I decided to bring Bertie along for another audition. I had a whole monologue set up. Rife with awkward twitches and informative tips on "being hip" I was set.
I grabbed my roommates Flip on the way out so I could get some shots for Bertie's next installment, plus it was like warming up on the ride over.
I left with plenty of time and got off the freeway on Woodman Ave. I suddenly had this weird feeling about that street that I couldn't put my finger on right. Then it hit me, Woodman Ave was the street I would turn on to get to Sherman Oaks. It was the street that I had taken to go to an old improv group, several auditions, and even a meeting with an agent. All of these places had been scams.
So needless to say I had a little prejudice about this street.
I turned down a few more streets until my GPS spouted 'you're destination is approaching' ... and that's when I saw nothing but a shady back alley.
Alright. I thought. It's just got to be past these... loading docks. Somewhere, near a main street maybe? I drove around the area, searching for the address.
Nada.
I called up my roommate to double check the address and quickly found out this place didn't really exist. I was about ready to head back tossing this audition aside as another stupid trick when I thought
Well it can't be a scam if they haven't even met me yet.
I thought back to one of my first Hollywood auditions, a production of Twelfth Night (apparently the only Shakespeare show SoCal does now days). I remember freaking out because I was late and the only thing I could find at this address was a tire shop. I had my dad look up the address and found out that they had transposed a few numbers. When I finally arrived I had a brilliant audition because all my nervous energy was gone and I performed to the top of my game.
So, calm down, this will work out. I got the auditioner's number from my roommate and gave them a call...
No answer.
I left a message, "Hi I'm supposed to be auditioning for you," I look at the clock, "right now, but I can't seem to find the building. I think that there's something wrong with the address you gave out. If you could call me back that would be great." Otherwise I'm going home and puttin my pj's on!
I hung up and pulled off to a side street waiting for the phone to ring.
A half hour goes by.
Annoyed I call again, this time someone immediately picks up, which threw me a little.
"Hello there"
"Oh, hi. Yeah I just called-"
"About the place, you can't find it! Oh yes, I know darling!"
Her voice was very cheerful, and somewhat British. Which immediately made me warm up to her because I love accents! Calling me darling was cute but instantly made me nervous that my attire, jeans tennies and a typical Bertie tank with a yellow jacket, was a little underdressed.
"Everyone's been calling me up saying they can't find the place. I'm on my way, I'm actually running late myself and I can't understand why! The address was in the email darling!"
"Oh yes I know, but it's incorrect or something, because I don't think it exists."
Her voice flipped into a stern, almost scold, "No. It exists."
Back peddle!! "Yes I know it does, but the address isn't anywhere I am. I think the numbers were-"
"Darling don't you have a GPS??
Woah there assuming, "Yes I do, but it's still not showing up. Can you tell me what the building looks like?"
She gave me a few small descriptions of what she could remember, gated building tan (maybe black) exterior, then said, "darling I'll call you when I get there and I have more info"
I hung up and started scouring the area for this vague building. Several of which were tan, and gated.
None were black.
All were either whole sale car supplies, or loading docks for Lord knows what.
I finally pulled up to an unmarked, Oh that's a good sign, building that was gated and looked almost like it could be an office. There were statues of steel people swinging baseball bats outside. I figured if anything this might be the place. So I parked my car in front and waited.
Another half hour rolls by, a sign above me reads One Hour Parking Only until 8pm. It's 6:45.
My nervous energy grows again.
**Warning. If the rest of this story makes you think I don't get it, you're not alone**
Just leave, this is weird.
I can't, what if this is a really great opportunity. I need acting And auditioning experience, any experience is... well maybe not any experience is good
It's getting dark...
I step out of the car to take a look around. A tall woman approaches me decked out in a turban, beautiful floral halter dress, and some expensive looking heels.
"Darling are you here for the audition?" Her accent is British, huzzah! I found the place!
"Yes I am, you must be-"
'"Eefy! But I'm really Pam"
"Oh...sure. Well my character's name is Bert-" And she just walked away. Okay.
I turn around to grab my headshot and Bertie jacket out of the car. As my butt is hanging out, she turns back and says, "Are you funny?"
I'm sorry, what....?
Not knowing how to respond I say, "Well I am now!"
What the hell does that mean?
I have no idea.
She stands by the gate as a shorter, older man slowly walks out. He literally saunters to the gate. When he opens it he says "Hey beautiful" and they Hollywood kiss each other.
She introduces me as I shake hands and he leads me into the dimly lit building.
Wow this would be cool for a Halloween haunted house... what am I getting myself into?
There were antique furnishings as far as the eye could see. Large princess chairs and kingly wardrobes. Huge fountains, and lengthy velvet curtains.
This would be cool, if it weren't so creepy.
I was led through the maze of furniture into a makeshift set. A large steady cam mounted on this ten foot extended arm sits in front of a huge flat screen monitor. Lights are mounted on polls facing this, I guess you'd call stage. A long red carpet led up to a raised platform with gold painted mirrors and greek-style pillars. Only problem was there was no where to stand on this 'stage,' just on the small bit of carpet in front of it.
I turned to see what this, I assume producer, was doing when I realized he was gone.
Sure.
Awkwardly I stand around and set my things down on a wooden chair. A chair that I've seen many times in several theaters, one that everyone uses to simulate a King's chair. Small backed maybe two feet in total height. Only this one was with thick wood, and intricate carvings of roses and leaves. A little bit fancier and sturdier than most theater props.
There was a couple sitting a few paces away from me chatting to each other. The woman wore a black dress silver jewelry and diamond studded shoes. She looked like she was expecting a dj to pop up with the latest hits. The man she was chatting with was gorgeous. A bit scruffy, as if he just neglected shaving for a few days and was sporting a dingy grey sweater, sweat pants, and tennis shoes. Despite his outfit, he had a camera ready look.
I went to stand by them, hoping that my presence would spark their attention and engage me into their conversation long enough to tell me what was going on.
It didn't.
I just ended up standing there next to them, looking around, as the chatted away in hushed voices.
Then my good friend Eefy/Pam walked back in with another person, who I think said her name was.... Nuna? She was also dressed to the nines.
Oh I'm so underdressed.
"Sorry everyone but this whole thing is a mess, I have to pee so bad. You all sit down in those chairs get acquainted and I'll be right back"
As we sat down the first woman asked me what I did, and what I was auditioning with. I told her I have a character named Bertie who beat boxes.
She stared at me.
"So... what are you going to do for the audition?"
In her thick Venezuelan accent she responded, "Oh I'm just here to clean, you know? The cameras... The wires..."
She laughed hysterically, clueing me into the fact that she was joking. The pretty man in the sweats on the other side of me laughed as well. I turned to him, "And what are you doing for this?"
"Oh no, I just came with her" he nodded to the Venezuelan woman.
"Yes, he's my lover."
"...Cool"
"But just for one night. I'm just going to hit it and quit it." She went on joking like this for sometime, so I turned to the second woman Eefy/Pam had brought in with her and asked what she'd be auditioning with.
"Oh I don't act. I'm here to support Eefy."
"That's great, what do you do?"
"I have my own line" Designer, no wonder she's dressed well, "But I want to take acting classes because I want to find my personality."
Uh...
"What kind of acting classes?"
"What do you mean?" The Eefy-assistant asked confused.
"Well there's a couple different methods of acting . You can do classical, contemporary, dramatic, comedic, improv.. anything. I really like improv because you know, it's just for fun."
I gave her info on some schools when good ol Eefy walked back in.
The director/producer/? suddenly behind the camera said, "Girl in the yellow go onstage"
Assuming that meant me I walked up to the platform, unable to actually go on the stage I waited on the carpet. The director swung the camera so it was facing away from where I stood and point it at the chairs I had previously been sitting in, and where Eefy was chatting away with the Venezuelan woman.
They joked and chatted for sometime, and I stood in front of the stage.. not knowing what to do.
The camera wasn't on me, and everyone was listening to Eefy. So...
Eefy turns to the camera and says, "Oh I didn't even realize you were filming me!" Blows a kiss, and continues talking to the other woman.
The director says "Okay where's the actors?"
I nerdly say, "here!"
He turns to me and says, "You're one of the actors?"
Ew "As far as I know..."
"Okay let's have Eefy come in and sit in the middle. You in the black dress here, and yellow girl sit on the right"
Yeah this yellow girl thing is not gonna fly.
So I do as he says and sit down. I turn to Eefy, "I don't know whats happening here"
"Oh darling we're just being natural"
"Sure, but what's going on?"
"We're just going to talk"
"Do I do my character.. or..."
"You can do a character if you want"
"Okay but, what-" Before I can say anything else Eefy was taking off sunglasses ontop of my head and fixing my hair.
"We want everyone to look good" She then handed my sunglasses to her assistant (the one on a personality quest) who took my sunglasses and disappeared.
Then the Venezuelan and Eefy were off on another joke laughing and having a good time. They talked and talked!
...I sat there.
Apparently that whole time they were filming.
"Oh I have my new fresh lettuce!" The Venezuelan laughed, nodding over to her 'lover'
"But darling, what happened to your Bank of America?" The keeled over with laughter.
"Oh he was an old piece of lettuce! He was wilting! I have my Wellsfargo now!"
And I sat there.
I would have laughed, it was honestly funny. But I still didn't know what the hell was going on!
After a while the director said "Okay yellow girl step out we're going to switch you with him"
'Him' being the Venezuelan's 'lover' who hadn't expected being filmed.
I walked off
At that point I thought, I want to go home right now. I grabbed my stuff, but then realized that I had no idea where my sunglasses were.
That's fine I'll just wait until they break and ask around for them.
But they didn't break. They kept going.
I sat next to who I assume was the first AD and she says, "So how do you know Eefy?"
Shocked, "I don't! I don't know what this is! I just submitted for this online, I don't know what going on!"
The AD instantly became the first real human being I met that night, "Oh my gosh! Oh you poor thing, this is like a reality show. Don't worry just wait around and you'll get your chance."
AT WHAT?!?
But the AD was back to working so I sat back down and looked over the area. Finally I spotted the sunglasses sitting in the Eefy-assistant's chair. I asked her for them and mouthed "I'm gonna head out" to the AD.
Eefy-assistant walked me out and said, 'Thanks for the info on the improv school, I'm sure it'll really help me find my personality."
Now I don't know what this woman was really searching for. But I figured it meant a lot, and anyway I could help her would be the right thing to do. Who knows, maybe she's just as lost in life as I am at this 'audition.'
"No problem I can give you my email if you want."
"That'd be great! Let me just prop open the gate so I'm not locked out"
As she was fiddling with the gate I went to my car to grab my phone and some paper. I turn back around to see the gate closed and the Eefy-assistant talking to the director. Suddenly they walk back into the building.
And I'm left standing there.
On the other side of the gate.
Which is locked.
Do I wait?
A few grueling wtf-minutes pass.
Nothing.
Screw it.
I get in my car and leave. All the while shouting out loud
WHAT?!
FRANK: “At the end of it all, you’ve got to have some spectacular cock-ups.”
CYRIL: “Because then you’ll have stories.”
FRANK: “And then you’ve had a life. You’ve had a life.” ~Slings and Arrows
If you'd like to see the woman Eefy in action go on YouTube and look up "Ask Eefy"
Confused yet laughing,
~The Goof
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
A Little Embarrassment Used
So as I've previously posted I've been doing small segments with a character I named Bertie. This came about while I was procrastinating for a video submission.
I started goofing around and having fun when I decided to make this sort of awkward blogger. Honestly it's just been fun to do a little something on the side so that I can appease the creative urges that I wrestle with each day. I need a little outlet after serving the countless frappacinos and over sugared lattes. (Seriously, one person who orders two venti 8 pump white mochas with whip cream AND white mocha on top, PLUS an extra venti sized cup of whipped cream, per day?? Too much people... too much)
Anyway the audition that I was procrastinating for ended up being another opportunity to show off this weird character. I introduced the character as myself so that the auditioners would understand I wasn't this twitchy uncomfortable person. Then I let the character take care of the rest.
They were looking for quirky characters for their kareoke scene in whatever movie they were producing. They asked that we pick a song from their list and perform it. (A list which included "One Way Or Another" 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and... "99 Red Balloons")
The only problem was that I would have to buy the song(s) on a site called Zoom Kareoke in order to sing along.
So I had Bertie say, "I understand that you really...implore, that all of us use mixes from, um, Zoom? I don't have money for that because I'm an actor... Please accept, my substitution" Bertie then performed all of the listed songs from the 30 second free sample clips, filling in the rest of the songs with beatboxing.
I have a knack for not doing that assignment as required...
In any case it seemed to work out because I was called in to audition in person. The director sent out an email saying they had received several hundered audition tapes and that they were selecting a few to come in and audition.
If anything boosted my ego, that did.
So I confirmed the audition and they sent me an email saying, just stick to singing 99 Red Balloons.
It didn't hit me until the day of that I didn't really know the words to the song... Much less the German words. Which is convient seeing as I have a roommate who knows the entirety of the German section, but of course I never asked her to teach me.
It's about 1:30 in the afternoon as I'm trying to scramble getting these lyrics together. Then, I think, it won't be so bad they'll only have me sing a porition of the song and be done with it. Probably just the chorus will suffice.
Since I don't have much ink on my printer I saved the lyrics to my iTouch and left the house for my improv class.
My time was pretty pressed as my class was in Hollywood and the audition was in Pasadena, right at the peak of LA traffic. Flustered I flew into the audition waiting room about an hour late when I realized something I hadn't noticed before.
I'm going into a singing audition.
Now this should have been blatent when I first submitted for a "Kareoke Audition" but the words "quirky," and "character" drove that little detail right out of my mind.
I should also note that singing in front of people, especially auditions, is one of my biggest fears. Just about every musical I've ever been cast in has been based on the merit program. People who have known me, and seen my work, are more lenient than those who have never met me.
Ironically all but one of my awards for acting have been from musical performances.
So as I'm sitting there I start thinking, it's not you auditioning, its Bertie. No big deal, just let the character audition.
Slowly I calmed myself down when suddenly I heard a voice start singing above my head. To my horror I looked up to see two speakers perched on both sides of the ceiling.
The audition was being piped into the waiting room.
Not the directors.
Not the AD.
Not the tech guy.
Just the auditioner.
Oh yeah, and they all were required to sing the whole song.
Allllll those lyrics...
I felt myself go numb as I heard glorious singer after singer enter the room and blow away the speakers with their beautiful vibrato. Hurriedly, I scrolled my iTouch trying to commit all those lyrics to memory. Everyone was singing different songs than I was so as I was trying to hum my song "Take on Me" was blasting over the speakers.
I sucked in a long strand of air and mutter a deep and desperate prayer. "You had better be with me for this, because there's no way. There's no way!"
They called my name and I entered the room as though I were as cheerful as bumble bee, bouncing about and commenting how large this theater was, and how this place could fit sooo many people in it. When really on the inside, I was a deer in the headlights.
Remembering that this was Bertie's audition, I strutted up to the stage in full Bertie persona and said/half mumbled "Hey wassup, m'name's Bertie and I'm gonna sing for you and stuff. Also I don't have the lyrics on paper, I got em on my iTouch, cuz I'm a tree hugger and stuff. Okay, you can like hit it, or something"
Then the music started.
And Bertie danced.
Which got a laugh, so I did a little more.
Instantly forgetting that the lyrics start as soon as the music does.
When I finally started singing I was about five measures behind the music. But I kept going. And the music hit into the instrumental break, and I was still singing lyrics. Oh and I was singing the wrong words.
As I was trying to scroll my lyrics, the iTouch became sensitive to my movements, and started flipping to the side, upside down, and to the other side.
I tried to turn the iPod so that I could see the lyrics straight on, but every time I'd turn the screen to what I thought was right side up, the screen would flip again.
Aggravated Bertie blurted out, "Oh no the screen's a-flippin!"
I thought Screw it. And stuffed the iTouch in my back pocket as I started improving lyrics.
My own little crash course to musical improv, brought to you by Nena.
"You and I and our little toy truck
Buy a bag of balloons with some money we got
Set them free at the break of hummm
Shmer..
99 Red balloons floating in the summer sky!
Can it boys, it's red alert!
There's something here from somewhere high!
Flash the message... uhh. Oh this is the instrumental break"
Unsure of what to do next I just started beat boxing. Steadily I heard in the music build as the chorus was about to come up and sang the correct lyrics.
For about four lines.
The rest of the words flew right out of my head. A tiny little thought picture of me started waving as I saw every word of this song I had been singing since I was ten fly away into the rafters.
Panicing, I started singing in fake German. That went over well.
"Hi fulife full veeder shnine
Fliefe fulldop bop beeder ghine!
Shmerny merny, scoffle dirty.
Shleedup bob bop beeder lerdy"
(I'm parapharsing really)
Slowly the music started to fade, the song was finally ending. In the back of my head I thought, Oh they're ending it early. Huh, there's more to the song.
To my great shock, and utter confusion, that last sentence escaped my mouth through the voice of Bertie.
"There's more to the song"
Apologizing the tech guy turned the song back up... As I realized I didn't know the final lyrics either.
Crap.
"If I could do one thing for you
I would buy a red balloon.
Give it to you, and you.
Maybe even one for you."
The rest of the improved lyrics escape me at the moment, but I do remember singing... even though the music had stopped.
Nervously I bowed as Bertie. Changed my posture, and said with confidence "That was Bertie!"
As though to say, that wasn't me... really. Please don't judge me.
I walked down the long aisle to where the director sat at the back of the theater, it took all my effort to maintain face as I shook her hand smiling and said, "Well, I don't know about you but I had fun!" Then I walked out.
In the words of Mike Birbiglia, "Here's where it gets bad..."
I walked to the back of the theater, my whole body shaking. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up, and forget everything that just happened.
As if to keep me from that very task, I pushed open the door and realized I was back in the waiting room.
And perched above me were those speakers.
Broadcasting every word and grunt that escaped my mouth, for all those actors to hear.
Mortified I slapped on the dumbest smile I could muster and waved to them saying "Have fun ya'll!"
With that I exited out onto the sidewalk, where I walked among strangers whom I was thankful neither saw nor heard what had just happened.
I allowed my character Bertie to take the fall for that little mishap. It's kind of cathartic when it's a story about someone else, and not as mortally wounding to your ego when the story is about you.
As Bertie says, "I guess it's funny in retrospect"
Lol
I let her take the story and vlog about it as you can see here
Enjoy in Laughter,
~The Goof
I started goofing around and having fun when I decided to make this sort of awkward blogger. Honestly it's just been fun to do a little something on the side so that I can appease the creative urges that I wrestle with each day. I need a little outlet after serving the countless frappacinos and over sugared lattes. (Seriously, one person who orders two venti 8 pump white mochas with whip cream AND white mocha on top, PLUS an extra venti sized cup of whipped cream, per day?? Too much people... too much)
Anyway the audition that I was procrastinating for ended up being another opportunity to show off this weird character. I introduced the character as myself so that the auditioners would understand I wasn't this twitchy uncomfortable person. Then I let the character take care of the rest.
They were looking for quirky characters for their kareoke scene in whatever movie they were producing. They asked that we pick a song from their list and perform it. (A list which included "One Way Or Another" 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and... "99 Red Balloons")
The only problem was that I would have to buy the song(s) on a site called Zoom Kareoke in order to sing along.
So I had Bertie say, "I understand that you really...implore, that all of us use mixes from, um, Zoom? I don't have money for that because I'm an actor... Please accept, my substitution" Bertie then performed all of the listed songs from the 30 second free sample clips, filling in the rest of the songs with beatboxing.
I have a knack for not doing that assignment as required...
In any case it seemed to work out because I was called in to audition in person. The director sent out an email saying they had received several hundered audition tapes and that they were selecting a few to come in and audition.
If anything boosted my ego, that did.
So I confirmed the audition and they sent me an email saying, just stick to singing 99 Red Balloons.
It didn't hit me until the day of that I didn't really know the words to the song... Much less the German words. Which is convient seeing as I have a roommate who knows the entirety of the German section, but of course I never asked her to teach me.
It's about 1:30 in the afternoon as I'm trying to scramble getting these lyrics together. Then, I think, it won't be so bad they'll only have me sing a porition of the song and be done with it. Probably just the chorus will suffice.
Since I don't have much ink on my printer I saved the lyrics to my iTouch and left the house for my improv class.
My time was pretty pressed as my class was in Hollywood and the audition was in Pasadena, right at the peak of LA traffic. Flustered I flew into the audition waiting room about an hour late when I realized something I hadn't noticed before.
I'm going into a singing audition.
Now this should have been blatent when I first submitted for a "Kareoke Audition" but the words "quirky," and "character" drove that little detail right out of my mind.
I should also note that singing in front of people, especially auditions, is one of my biggest fears. Just about every musical I've ever been cast in has been based on the merit program. People who have known me, and seen my work, are more lenient than those who have never met me.
Ironically all but one of my awards for acting have been from musical performances.
So as I'm sitting there I start thinking, it's not you auditioning, its Bertie. No big deal, just let the character audition.
Slowly I calmed myself down when suddenly I heard a voice start singing above my head. To my horror I looked up to see two speakers perched on both sides of the ceiling.
The audition was being piped into the waiting room.
Not the directors.
Not the AD.
Not the tech guy.
Just the auditioner.
Oh yeah, and they all were required to sing the whole song.
Allllll those lyrics...
I felt myself go numb as I heard glorious singer after singer enter the room and blow away the speakers with their beautiful vibrato. Hurriedly, I scrolled my iTouch trying to commit all those lyrics to memory. Everyone was singing different songs than I was so as I was trying to hum my song "Take on Me" was blasting over the speakers.
I sucked in a long strand of air and mutter a deep and desperate prayer. "You had better be with me for this, because there's no way. There's no way!"
They called my name and I entered the room as though I were as cheerful as bumble bee, bouncing about and commenting how large this theater was, and how this place could fit sooo many people in it. When really on the inside, I was a deer in the headlights.
Remembering that this was Bertie's audition, I strutted up to the stage in full Bertie persona and said/half mumbled "Hey wassup, m'name's Bertie and I'm gonna sing for you and stuff. Also I don't have the lyrics on paper, I got em on my iTouch, cuz I'm a tree hugger and stuff. Okay, you can like hit it, or something"
Then the music started.
And Bertie danced.
Which got a laugh, so I did a little more.
Instantly forgetting that the lyrics start as soon as the music does.
When I finally started singing I was about five measures behind the music. But I kept going. And the music hit into the instrumental break, and I was still singing lyrics. Oh and I was singing the wrong words.
As I was trying to scroll my lyrics, the iTouch became sensitive to my movements, and started flipping to the side, upside down, and to the other side.
I tried to turn the iPod so that I could see the lyrics straight on, but every time I'd turn the screen to what I thought was right side up, the screen would flip again.
Aggravated Bertie blurted out, "Oh no the screen's a-flippin!"
I thought Screw it. And stuffed the iTouch in my back pocket as I started improving lyrics.
My own little crash course to musical improv, brought to you by Nena.
"You and I and our little toy truck
Buy a bag of balloons with some money we got
Set them free at the break of hummm
Shmer..
99 Red balloons floating in the summer sky!
Can it boys, it's red alert!
There's something here from somewhere high!
Flash the message... uhh. Oh this is the instrumental break"
Unsure of what to do next I just started beat boxing. Steadily I heard in the music build as the chorus was about to come up and sang the correct lyrics.
For about four lines.
The rest of the words flew right out of my head. A tiny little thought picture of me started waving as I saw every word of this song I had been singing since I was ten fly away into the rafters.
Panicing, I started singing in fake German. That went over well.
"Hi fulife full veeder shnine
Fliefe fulldop bop beeder ghine!
Shmerny merny, scoffle dirty.
Shleedup bob bop beeder lerdy"
(I'm parapharsing really)
Slowly the music started to fade, the song was finally ending. In the back of my head I thought, Oh they're ending it early. Huh, there's more to the song.
To my great shock, and utter confusion, that last sentence escaped my mouth through the voice of Bertie.
"There's more to the song"
Apologizing the tech guy turned the song back up... As I realized I didn't know the final lyrics either.
Crap.
"If I could do one thing for you
I would buy a red balloon.
Give it to you, and you.
Maybe even one for you."
The rest of the improved lyrics escape me at the moment, but I do remember singing... even though the music had stopped.
Nervously I bowed as Bertie. Changed my posture, and said with confidence "That was Bertie!"
As though to say, that wasn't me... really. Please don't judge me.
I walked down the long aisle to where the director sat at the back of the theater, it took all my effort to maintain face as I shook her hand smiling and said, "Well, I don't know about you but I had fun!" Then I walked out.
In the words of Mike Birbiglia, "Here's where it gets bad..."
I walked to the back of the theater, my whole body shaking. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up, and forget everything that just happened.
As if to keep me from that very task, I pushed open the door and realized I was back in the waiting room.
And perched above me were those speakers.
Broadcasting every word and grunt that escaped my mouth, for all those actors to hear.
Mortified I slapped on the dumbest smile I could muster and waved to them saying "Have fun ya'll!"
With that I exited out onto the sidewalk, where I walked among strangers whom I was thankful neither saw nor heard what had just happened.
I allowed my character Bertie to take the fall for that little mishap. It's kind of cathartic when it's a story about someone else, and not as mortally wounding to your ego when the story is about you.
As Bertie says, "I guess it's funny in retrospect"
Lol
I let her take the story and vlog about it as you can see here
Enjoy in Laughter,
~The Goof
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
A Little Video Fun
A new character for you all to enjoy! Share with friends!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJVHDRKmm6Y&sns=em
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJVHDRKmm6Y&sns=em
Friday, September 10, 2010
Dancing On the Edge of Failure
I have been more than a year out of college. I have done my fair share of grunt work in almost every aspect of entertainment. (Or from what my limited brain perceives it has) From serving the tables, cleaning the bathrooms, pushing the sets, to sitting for 8 hours on set only to never be used nor paid. And throughout this entire ordeal only one thing keeps me from moving on.
No, not the horrible customers. No, not the roaches scampering into the bowels of the dingy disposals. Not even the prospect of never being used on set.
One word. Failure.
Failure has been my greatest fear. That I would venture out into the indecisive world of Hollywood only to be met with my imminent failure. That I would turn into one of those name dropping bitter actors that do nothing but fill you with their "knowledge" of how it all works.
I'm getting to a point where I can handle rejection, that's just nature.
I went into Hollywood truly believing that I am one in a million, but am slapped in the face with the bitter actors on their way out. They tell you that you are not one in a million. That you are less than that. That Hollywood will reduce you to a number on a page, only to be thrown out in a few days. These voices will echo every time that little glimmer of doubt hits me. The wave I feel when I go into an audition unsure of what to expect. That voice that says, "What are you doing? You aren't meant for this." With this voice is the backing of thousands of bitter on-their-way-outs (aka OTWO's) sharing their 'advice' on how you aren't smart enough, tall enough, thin enough, short enough, white enough, dark enough, etc.
Because of this I have not found comedy that was "enough". I judge each comedic work on the pure discipline that theory has set me up with. Unless it's brilliant, it isn't enough. That is the theory that OTWO's plant and fester into me. This is the subtle theory that I have even gleaned, perhaps unreasonably, from my education since high school.
Recently I was in class, a class I had previously failed and am taking again, and the teacher said "Comedy is great. It gives us the opportunity to fail and move on. It's like baseball stats, twenty percent of the time you'll see that failure. It's that willingness to fail that makes it fun"
That's the danger of it all right? Comedy makes us ease the tension by laughing because we're so surprised it worked out some how. Like we can see the train wreck it's about to become, but then something beautiful happens.
"My reason may very well be hanging by a thread. Well, my friends, it is my belief that the best things happen just before the thread snaps" ~ Geoffrey Tennant Slings and Arrows
Most pursuing-their-far-fetched-dream people have these OTWO's who have been stricken by misfortune one too many times to handle. Some people call it upon themselves, other's just have bad luck. Either way you can see their misfortune taking root in their personality, and becoming part of who they are defined as.
Recently I had a thought when I walked into work, "This job, though grueling and tedious, does not define who I am. Once I am off work, then I get to choose and become who I want to be." It's made me endure the short hours with a little more ease.
This past weekend I realized that my sole technique in acting has been based on my "talent." I have assumed that since other people have labeled me as talented then others would as well. After several failed auditions I began to take it personally. And when I failed my class, a somewhat foreseen circumstance, I began to believe I was also a failure.
I had forgotten one of many things. 1) I am only a failure when I stop trying and 2) The grace of God.
While pursuing this career it's easy to get caught up in the details of "me". I assume that each rejection and the class notes are a reflection on who I am. When did I start giving other people the power to define who I am? When did I start taking criticism so personally?
I have never ventured so far in this blog to state my religious perspective, so allow me to do so now. I am God fearing. I believe that the grace of God has created me to be something more than what I can see, and more than others can as well. I believe that the love of God is what allows me to see the commonality of people so that I am not just a head in a crowd. So that being apart of that as well as an individual within that, I can create something humorous. Hopefully.
"We like to be joyful, hopeful, helpful. Lots of full words. I was wondering about the word awful. Shouldn't that be a good thing? I mean that sounds like the very basis of a religious life. A person who goes out and is filled with awe. Shouldn't you be awful?" ~Pastor Steve
I forget so easily how reliant on God I need to be. Not in a "Lemme pray and God will fix it all for me lickety split!" But in a way that whatever the outcome, I can face it because He is with me.
I'm sounding preachy, I know, but honestly how many people did God use that were total failures? Losers like Paul... the artist formerly known as Saul.
What an ass, right?
In reality this is just a means by which I can work out my thoughts. I'm having massive writers block, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge my steadily decreasing time limit, while writing my set for this coming Monday. And the one thing I keep thinking is, what if I fail? What if this is the gig that goes wrong.
My stubbornness in writing translates into my stubbornness of relying on God. I'm such a backseat driver that I can't help but try to do this all on my own.
So I beg your prayers, that I can rely on God as not a crutch but as a mentor. To realize that He alone is the only one that will catch me when I dance on the edge of failure. And I thank everyone for their continuous support.
I pray that whoever reads this continues to find hope and laughter in whatever dream they pursue.
Smirking a tad,
~The Goof
No, not the horrible customers. No, not the roaches scampering into the bowels of the dingy disposals. Not even the prospect of never being used on set.
One word. Failure.
Failure has been my greatest fear. That I would venture out into the indecisive world of Hollywood only to be met with my imminent failure. That I would turn into one of those name dropping bitter actors that do nothing but fill you with their "knowledge" of how it all works.
I'm getting to a point where I can handle rejection, that's just nature.
I went into Hollywood truly believing that I am one in a million, but am slapped in the face with the bitter actors on their way out. They tell you that you are not one in a million. That you are less than that. That Hollywood will reduce you to a number on a page, only to be thrown out in a few days. These voices will echo every time that little glimmer of doubt hits me. The wave I feel when I go into an audition unsure of what to expect. That voice that says, "What are you doing? You aren't meant for this." With this voice is the backing of thousands of bitter on-their-way-outs (aka OTWO's) sharing their 'advice' on how you aren't smart enough, tall enough, thin enough, short enough, white enough, dark enough, etc.
Because of this I have not found comedy that was "enough". I judge each comedic work on the pure discipline that theory has set me up with. Unless it's brilliant, it isn't enough. That is the theory that OTWO's plant and fester into me. This is the subtle theory that I have even gleaned, perhaps unreasonably, from my education since high school.
Recently I was in class, a class I had previously failed and am taking again, and the teacher said "Comedy is great. It gives us the opportunity to fail and move on. It's like baseball stats, twenty percent of the time you'll see that failure. It's that willingness to fail that makes it fun"
That's the danger of it all right? Comedy makes us ease the tension by laughing because we're so surprised it worked out some how. Like we can see the train wreck it's about to become, but then something beautiful happens.
"My reason may very well be hanging by a thread. Well, my friends, it is my belief that the best things happen just before the thread snaps" ~ Geoffrey Tennant Slings and Arrows
Most pursuing-their-far-fetched-dream people have these OTWO's who have been stricken by misfortune one too many times to handle. Some people call it upon themselves, other's just have bad luck. Either way you can see their misfortune taking root in their personality, and becoming part of who they are defined as.
Recently I had a thought when I walked into work, "This job, though grueling and tedious, does not define who I am. Once I am off work, then I get to choose and become who I want to be." It's made me endure the short hours with a little more ease.
This past weekend I realized that my sole technique in acting has been based on my "talent." I have assumed that since other people have labeled me as talented then others would as well. After several failed auditions I began to take it personally. And when I failed my class, a somewhat foreseen circumstance, I began to believe I was also a failure.
I had forgotten one of many things. 1) I am only a failure when I stop trying and 2) The grace of God.
While pursuing this career it's easy to get caught up in the details of "me". I assume that each rejection and the class notes are a reflection on who I am. When did I start giving other people the power to define who I am? When did I start taking criticism so personally?
I have never ventured so far in this blog to state my religious perspective, so allow me to do so now. I am God fearing. I believe that the grace of God has created me to be something more than what I can see, and more than others can as well. I believe that the love of God is what allows me to see the commonality of people so that I am not just a head in a crowd. So that being apart of that as well as an individual within that, I can create something humorous. Hopefully.
"We like to be joyful, hopeful, helpful. Lots of full words. I was wondering about the word awful. Shouldn't that be a good thing? I mean that sounds like the very basis of a religious life. A person who goes out and is filled with awe. Shouldn't you be awful?" ~Pastor Steve
I forget so easily how reliant on God I need to be. Not in a "Lemme pray and God will fix it all for me lickety split!" But in a way that whatever the outcome, I can face it because He is with me.
I'm sounding preachy, I know, but honestly how many people did God use that were total failures? Losers like Paul... the artist formerly known as Saul.
What an ass, right?
In reality this is just a means by which I can work out my thoughts. I'm having massive writers block, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge my steadily decreasing time limit, while writing my set for this coming Monday. And the one thing I keep thinking is, what if I fail? What if this is the gig that goes wrong.
My stubbornness in writing translates into my stubbornness of relying on God. I'm such a backseat driver that I can't help but try to do this all on my own.
So I beg your prayers, that I can rely on God as not a crutch but as a mentor. To realize that He alone is the only one that will catch me when I dance on the edge of failure. And I thank everyone for their continuous support.
I pray that whoever reads this continues to find hope and laughter in whatever dream they pursue.
Smirking a tad,
~The Goof
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
A Few Short Laughs
I received a few text recently:
"A woman at the mall just yelled at her daughter 'ELPHABA!!'"
"I almost decapitated shaggy this morning.. his head was in the window when I was closing it. Just call me Marie Antionette."
"Beh! Come here so I not so awkward!"
A few clips to enjoy:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/1601/saturday-night-live-the-exorcist-ii
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m72GNRrvc88
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7ywNaGpqZw
Laugh Loud!
~Goof
"A woman at the mall just yelled at her daughter 'ELPHABA!!'"
"I almost decapitated shaggy this morning.. his head was in the window when I was closing it. Just call me Marie Antionette."
"Beh! Come here so I not so awkward!"
A few clips to enjoy:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/1601/saturday-night-live-the-exorcist-ii
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m72GNRrvc88
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7ywNaGpqZw
Laugh Loud!
~Goof
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Appologies
~ I have become accustomed to the unending habit of starting a project and not following through. It doesn't happen all the time but...
I have several posts I was going to write but saved for a raining day. And though the sun is shining bright, that rainy day is here. I really have no excuse except being lazy. So please accept my apologies. ~
I've recently been working on a show case (which I like to describe as a recital for actors) that will hopefully bring in talent agencies to come see us and maybe sign us. I don't know what to expect and I'm working with a very uh… eclectic, group. There are some extremely talented actors and then there are some... well... Hollywood actors. Then there’s the theater itself which is a story of its own.
Allow me to paint the scene of a typical day:
Every day around five we convene for rehearsal on the second floor of a strip mall. Walking up the stairs one might see a man with a trench coat rocking ever so slightly staring at a point on some plain only he can see. As you pass him you may see his hand reach into his pocket as he stops you and asks if you like to purchase what he's holding. Now as a child warnings from parents and stories from friends should have prepared you for this moment. You should say no and walk away keeping your eyes up and away.
But despite yourself you look anyway and see what you never expected, a live bunny pulled from the depths of this coat. Satisfied that not all stories about the big bad city are true, you think how adorable this little rabbit is. Then reality hits you and you express your regret and several reasons why you can't buy the critter, listing things like money and landlord issues.
You climb the steps, still saying how you wish you could but can’t today, and the man slowly returns the small bunny to the crevices of his coat.
As you enter the theater you are met with three columns of small park benches that serve as audience seating facing a raised black box stage covered in several "actor boxes." On the walls are old movie posters featuring films like Citizen Kane. You may mention the encounter with bunny man to your director who sits on an actor box on the raised stage. With an air of familiarity he will explain to you that the man actually gets these bunnies from Korea town where they're sold for other reasons than pets. So in a way he's saving the bunnies from going to lunch at Dim Sum against their will. The director may also say, "I've bought one bunny. And I now own three. So don't buy one if you honestly can't take care of it."
As rehearsal begins the director will converse about recent movie releases and discussion arises about the auditions we've all been on. One actor, of no notable reference, may suddenly and proudly express that he "had an audition for a sitcom today." Interested, with a twinge of slight jealousy, you sit up and ask what the sitcom was about. To which this actor will reply, "Human Trafficking."
Now as you sit in stunned silence several of your fellow actors may protest exactly what you can't quite formulate. Things like "How is that a sit com?" or "That can’t possibly be a comedy!"
As the barrage of questions lightens this particular 'actor' may say "Oh well maybe it wasn't a sit com... but it was for a documentary."
You may just hate being there at that moment and wonder why your four year degree has led you to meet a person like this.
As you're sent out to rehearse with your fellow actors one of your partners, twenty some-odd years your senior, may just sing his lines as you rehearse, irritating you that little bit more. And by the time you get on stage to show the group your scene your partner may just get stage fright and forget all his lines.
He'll then stare at you expecting you to carry the scene, and you quickly utilize every known improv trick in your basket to just finish the damned thing so you can sit down.
You may need to rush to the bathroom at this point so you can control your mounting aesthetic rage and remind yourself that these are just the tough days, and you'll get through them. But then you remember that the bathrooms do not contain toliet paper, soap, nor (possibly) running water. They do however come equipped with your favorite animal, roaches, so you think better of it and return back to your park bench mulling over your thoughts.
After about two hours of this you're sent home to contemplate how you'll ever get an agent and if your day will come.
So needless to say this is not my only project in the mix. There's always an audition or a side project going on and that gives me hope for better days. Right now all I can do is find the ridiculousness and laugh, because other wise this biz is just too hard.
Go with laughter,
Katie Aka The Goof ;) Thanks Riles
I have several posts I was going to write but saved for a raining day. And though the sun is shining bright, that rainy day is here. I really have no excuse except being lazy. So please accept my apologies. ~
I've recently been working on a show case (which I like to describe as a recital for actors) that will hopefully bring in talent agencies to come see us and maybe sign us. I don't know what to expect and I'm working with a very uh… eclectic, group. There are some extremely talented actors and then there are some... well... Hollywood actors. Then there’s the theater itself which is a story of its own.
Allow me to paint the scene of a typical day:
Every day around five we convene for rehearsal on the second floor of a strip mall. Walking up the stairs one might see a man with a trench coat rocking ever so slightly staring at a point on some plain only he can see. As you pass him you may see his hand reach into his pocket as he stops you and asks if you like to purchase what he's holding. Now as a child warnings from parents and stories from friends should have prepared you for this moment. You should say no and walk away keeping your eyes up and away.
But despite yourself you look anyway and see what you never expected, a live bunny pulled from the depths of this coat. Satisfied that not all stories about the big bad city are true, you think how adorable this little rabbit is. Then reality hits you and you express your regret and several reasons why you can't buy the critter, listing things like money and landlord issues.
You climb the steps, still saying how you wish you could but can’t today, and the man slowly returns the small bunny to the crevices of his coat.
As you enter the theater you are met with three columns of small park benches that serve as audience seating facing a raised black box stage covered in several "actor boxes." On the walls are old movie posters featuring films like Citizen Kane. You may mention the encounter with bunny man to your director who sits on an actor box on the raised stage. With an air of familiarity he will explain to you that the man actually gets these bunnies from Korea town where they're sold for other reasons than pets. So in a way he's saving the bunnies from going to lunch at Dim Sum against their will. The director may also say, "I've bought one bunny. And I now own three. So don't buy one if you honestly can't take care of it."
As rehearsal begins the director will converse about recent movie releases and discussion arises about the auditions we've all been on. One actor, of no notable reference, may suddenly and proudly express that he "had an audition for a sitcom today." Interested, with a twinge of slight jealousy, you sit up and ask what the sitcom was about. To which this actor will reply, "Human Trafficking."
Now as you sit in stunned silence several of your fellow actors may protest exactly what you can't quite formulate. Things like "How is that a sit com?" or "That can’t possibly be a comedy!"
As the barrage of questions lightens this particular 'actor' may say "Oh well maybe it wasn't a sit com... but it was for a documentary."
You may just hate being there at that moment and wonder why your four year degree has led you to meet a person like this.
As you're sent out to rehearse with your fellow actors one of your partners, twenty some-odd years your senior, may just sing his lines as you rehearse, irritating you that little bit more. And by the time you get on stage to show the group your scene your partner may just get stage fright and forget all his lines.
He'll then stare at you expecting you to carry the scene, and you quickly utilize every known improv trick in your basket to just finish the damned thing so you can sit down.
You may need to rush to the bathroom at this point so you can control your mounting aesthetic rage and remind yourself that these are just the tough days, and you'll get through them. But then you remember that the bathrooms do not contain toliet paper, soap, nor (possibly) running water. They do however come equipped with your favorite animal, roaches, so you think better of it and return back to your park bench mulling over your thoughts.
After about two hours of this you're sent home to contemplate how you'll ever get an agent and if your day will come.
So needless to say this is not my only project in the mix. There's always an audition or a side project going on and that gives me hope for better days. Right now all I can do is find the ridiculousness and laugh, because other wise this biz is just too hard.
Go with laughter,
Katie Aka The Goof ;) Thanks Riles
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
How it Went
So recently I performed at the Comedy Store.
Recently as in Monday night. It all started when a coworker told me about a Craig's list ad seeking new comics for the Store. Weird I know, but my coworker threatened me with the prospect of working at Starbucks for the rest of my life... so I got the courage and emailed my response (amazing how shy you can be over an email). I was contacted pretty soon after and instead of having me audition for the show they just put me on the bill...
There was some confusion in the beginning about when the show started. (silly us thought that when they tell you a show starts at 8.. the show would actually start at 8) So around 8:20 we were finally let into the building, and I was directed to the back stage where I had so often waited with that old improv group mere months before. It still carried that faint aroma of pot and Lord knows what else. (It is however a lot nicer than some other comedy clubs, I have to admit)
I was greeted by the host who then gave me the details of how the show would be run. (I actually came to find out that one of the reasons they picked me to perform that night was because they thought I had done stand up there before, or ever for that matter. Even though I clearly told them "When it says I performed at the Comedy Store on my resume it was when I was performing improv, not stand up." But seeing as these people are really on top of their details I didn't stress myself over correcting them when they told me"You don't need to worry! You've done this before right?")
So I was told that the more people I bring the better spot I would get and the longer amount of time I would be allotted on stage. Luckily I about 12 wonderfully supportive friends showed up. The roomies were present of course and fortunate were hit on by the ever popular emcee (wink wink nudge nudge sarcasm.) Some guest appearances came up that night, one of them being Elliot Chang who if you haven't seen, is hilarious. (check him out)
When I was finally given the set list, around the time when three comics had already done their sets, I found out that I was number ten. There were quite a few comics and the ones who were more well known were allowed about ten to fifteen minutes. When I first received the details I was told I would get eight minutes, then I got a follow up phone call which entailed seven minutes, and as I sat backstage the emcee explained I may be getting about 6 minutes before they "flashed the lights" So all in all, I had no clue how long I'd have.
Fast forward about two and a half hours of waiting around listening to an onslaught of penile jokes, one complete with a live strap-on, (I never said I was proud of the people working around me) I was about to go on. The kid that went before me shared a lot of similar comments I had been making in my head about some of the comics on stage. He'd say out loud "Oh that's not funny," or "Yeah that's inappropriate." So I had faith that the kid going up before me would be a good act to follow. As I was waiting off stage I listened to him ramble about religion and how awful Christianity was, trying desperately to be that edgy comic but instead ended spiraling into a hopeless mess and wound up forgetting half his set. Worrying that I would do the same thing I muttered a feverish prayer (one of many I sent up that day) into my clenched hands asking that I would not forget my line up and that the crowd would be gracious.
When the emcee announced me I was slightly broadsided by his comments. The point of the emcee is to talk up the next comic, get the crowd excited for them and then bring them out. Every once in a while they'll throw in a cute quip about who the comic is and where they've performed. I didn't know this guy and let me be clear that he was very polite back stage, and was in no way offensive...off stage.
But as I waited this was the gem I was introduced with:
"This next comic comes from Phoenix Arizona and I gotta say she's pretty hot. I would totally bang her if you know what I mean, which I think you do. You guys up here in the front her friends? Think you could hook me up? Haha Alright give it up for her she's performed all over town KAAATTTIIIEEEE E!!!"
Confused I walked on stage thinking "jerk" and continued with my set which started a little something like this...
"Wow, that was awkward. Think I should tell him I'm celibate? Ooops. No but really I'm celibate, that's not a joke. Shut up."
And off I went. Perhaps swinging through the motions of my planned out set, but nonetheless remembering it all. Which is quite an accomplishment... apparently...
I know there are plenty of things I can improve upon but for only doing this for the second official time, I think it went pretty dang well.
Cheerfully yours,
~Goof
Recently as in Monday night. It all started when a coworker told me about a Craig's list ad seeking new comics for the Store. Weird I know, but my coworker threatened me with the prospect of working at Starbucks for the rest of my life... so I got the courage and emailed my response (amazing how shy you can be over an email). I was contacted pretty soon after and instead of having me audition for the show they just put me on the bill...
There was some confusion in the beginning about when the show started. (silly us thought that when they tell you a show starts at 8.. the show would actually start at 8) So around 8:20 we were finally let into the building, and I was directed to the back stage where I had so often waited with that old improv group mere months before. It still carried that faint aroma of pot and Lord knows what else. (It is however a lot nicer than some other comedy clubs, I have to admit)
I was greeted by the host who then gave me the details of how the show would be run. (I actually came to find out that one of the reasons they picked me to perform that night was because they thought I had done stand up there before, or ever for that matter. Even though I clearly told them "When it says I performed at the Comedy Store on my resume it was when I was performing improv, not stand up." But seeing as these people are really on top of their details I didn't stress myself over correcting them when they told me"You don't need to worry! You've done this before right?")
So I was told that the more people I bring the better spot I would get and the longer amount of time I would be allotted on stage. Luckily I about 12 wonderfully supportive friends showed up. The roomies were present of course and fortunate were hit on by the ever popular emcee (wink wink nudge nudge sarcasm.) Some guest appearances came up that night, one of them being Elliot Chang who if you haven't seen, is hilarious. (check him out)
When I was finally given the set list, around the time when three comics had already done their sets, I found out that I was number ten. There were quite a few comics and the ones who were more well known were allowed about ten to fifteen minutes. When I first received the details I was told I would get eight minutes, then I got a follow up phone call which entailed seven minutes, and as I sat backstage the emcee explained I may be getting about 6 minutes before they "flashed the lights" So all in all, I had no clue how long I'd have.
Fast forward about two and a half hours of waiting around listening to an onslaught of penile jokes, one complete with a live strap-on, (I never said I was proud of the people working around me) I was about to go on. The kid that went before me shared a lot of similar comments I had been making in my head about some of the comics on stage. He'd say out loud "Oh that's not funny," or "Yeah that's inappropriate." So I had faith that the kid going up before me would be a good act to follow. As I was waiting off stage I listened to him ramble about religion and how awful Christianity was, trying desperately to be that edgy comic but instead ended spiraling into a hopeless mess and wound up forgetting half his set. Worrying that I would do the same thing I muttered a feverish prayer (one of many I sent up that day) into my clenched hands asking that I would not forget my line up and that the crowd would be gracious.
When the emcee announced me I was slightly broadsided by his comments. The point of the emcee is to talk up the next comic, get the crowd excited for them and then bring them out. Every once in a while they'll throw in a cute quip about who the comic is and where they've performed. I didn't know this guy and let me be clear that he was very polite back stage, and was in no way offensive...off stage.
But as I waited this was the gem I was introduced with:
"This next comic comes from Phoenix Arizona and I gotta say she's pretty hot. I would totally bang her if you know what I mean, which I think you do. You guys up here in the front her friends? Think you could hook me up? Haha Alright give it up for her she's performed all over town KAAATTTIIIEEEE E!!!"
Confused I walked on stage thinking "jerk" and continued with my set which started a little something like this...
"Wow, that was awkward. Think I should tell him I'm celibate? Ooops. No but really I'm celibate, that's not a joke. Shut up."
And off I went. Perhaps swinging through the motions of my planned out set, but nonetheless remembering it all. Which is quite an accomplishment... apparently...
I know there are plenty of things I can improve upon but for only doing this for the second official time, I think it went pretty dang well.
Cheerfully yours,
~Goof
Monday, July 12, 2010
I Scared A Little Girl Today...
Well technically it was yesterday but I couldn't post this till today.
So as the story usually goes I was at an audition. I had received a casting notice for a production that involved masks and puppetry. I was especially excited about the puppet because ever since Muppet Treasure Island graced my childhood I had always had a small yearning to be a muppeteer. So I submitted and got called in for Sunday in the morning right at 11:20.
I had honestly considered not going over various reasons like being too tired, exhausted from getting cut from virtually every audition I go on, and more specifically the world cup was on at 11:30! I had gone back and forth, waffling over whether it was worth it. Until the night before I was talking with my sister and she asked how I was doing and if I had any auditions coming up. I told her honestly that I had been pretty down lately after being rejected so many times, and was debating on whether or not it was even worth going to this crazy mask and puppet audition. This of course is just the life of an actor, being rejected on a regular basis, but it can be extremely trying and sometimes I let it eek over into other areas in my life.
"I just really want to be in a show!" I whined. (Because I am an adult and that's what we do)
"Well you know how you get into a show?" my sister asks ironically.Smirking I nodded and decided it was best to go to this silly audition.
The requirements seemed simple enough, bring in a movement piece and we will have a cd player if you need back up music. When I got home from my sisters house that night it was nearing midnight, a mere eleven hours before I had to be at the audition. As soon as I sat down to think about what I was going to do my mind went blank.
Great timing brain.
I looked up my iTunes music to see what I had in storage but realized that my computer is awesome and had randomly deleted over half my library, just because it felt like it. So every other song would pop up a message something like "This file could not be found because it potentially does not exist, would you like to try and locate it?"
Sweet.I was at a loss until I remembered a project a good friend of mine had created. It included music from Amelie. I loved the movie and the music, and the way my friend incorporated it into her show worked really well in regards to movement.
Now I'm not one for stealing ideas. Perhaps expanding on ideas is more what I do, but I did feel a little guilt in the back of my mind that I wasn't being entirely original. But I did it anyway.
I picked the third song on the cd "La noyée" and began to burst a vein trying to think of a simple story I could express with just my body.
It was nearing 1:30 when I finally settled on the genius plan that this would be about a girl getting up for work. She can barely lift her head until she has her coffee then realizes she's late and rush out the door. She'd try to catch a cab being blown over by the cars rushing past and eventually had to pay someone for their scooter.
It was cute, simple, and quaint but at 1:30 in the morning... it was brilliant!
As the alarm went off "La noyée" played and I did a quick rehearsal of the piece before I was up and about getting ready for the day.
I rushed off to Jo-Ann's in Glendale nearly missing it twice because it's in a really random area of town. I was helped by a next to clueless man who ended up having to turn me over to a much younger and more assured clerk. As soon as the receipt was handed over I was tearing open the plastic package and taking out the blank mask. I examined the mask in my car timidly putting it on and looking at myself in the mirror.
I looked like a creep. Especially with my hair down.
Becoming ridiculously shy in the empty Jo-Ann's parking lot I started my car and headed off to the audition. When I arrived I was about 40 minutes early, so I parked in a free residential area. Seeing as I hadn't practiced the piece with the mask I decided to do a quick run through in my car.
Paranoid, as always, I looked around to see if there was anyone watching. The houses looked deserted and I assumed everyone was watching the world cup.
Come on I coaxed myself. Don't get shy now. Since when have you been so bashful?
Considering this for a minute I pulled the blank mask down over my head and played the music. I quickly became aware of how hard it was going to be just to breathe. I moved through the motions and noted where I'd have difficulty seeing and how I'd have to move more specifically to get an emotion across. I was suddenly on fire with inspiration. I ran through the movements with great flourish and without hesitation.
As I neared the end of the piece I whipped my head up and saw the little girl staring at me.
She was walking with her mom down the sidewalk I was parked on. She was maybe four or five years old and wore a pink shirt and her hair was in sloppy pig tails, falling out most likely from running around too much. Her face was serious, as though the morning’s exuberance had never happened. She'd walk two steps or so and turn back, her mother dragging her along.
I sat in my car frozen to my seat, as though I had been caught in the act; which... I had been. The girl noticed me staring back at her and stopped dead in her tracks no longer allowing her mother to take a single step further. Confused her mother turned as well. I sat their horrified that creepy ol me was still wearing this masking sitting in my car... my hands still up in the air.
Slowly I lowered my hands and lifted the mask off.
The girl dropped her mother’s hand, as though she had confirmed that this weirdo had finally materialized into reality. And mom kept staring too.
Uncomfortable and glowing bright red I checked around my car as if there were something else they might be looking at. I thought maybe there was something more eccentric than me around... but nope it was just me. And them.
I turned back around to see their backs faced to me as mom rushed tiny pig tails away from whatever this was.
Part of me was thoroughly embarrassed.
But the other part, that crazy deranged side that's kept me doing theater for years... that part laughed.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Hero of the Week
So this week's Hero has been up in the air for a few days. There were sketchy men with V-neck silk shirts lounging on percariously parked limos, or a fellow auditioner who claimed his last name was "Private" and that he was close friends with Scorsese and Dan Aykroyd even though he was auditioning for a bit role in a web series. But hands down the Hero of this week has to do with a person I did not meet, nor will I probably ever.
In an attempt to keep things relevant I donned you all with this glorious youtube video. A masterpeice in its subtleties, this video only requires about four minutes of your attention. In full length this video is two hours long, which is pretty lengthy... considering it's a music video.
Yes, I crown this weeks Hero of the Week to Mister R Kelly and his music video entitled "Trapped in the Closet"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8IVlfyIc8g
Now don't be confused by this ambigious title, R Kelly makes it clear that his orientation is nothing to question in the first few seconds. As for the content I beg you to watch to the end of the clip and cherish the ridiculousness.
As I am always on the look out for your next Hero of the week, someone who tops the charts and begs the question "Why on Earth would you do that?" I'd love to hear suggestions! Email me your hero of the week at GetOnItGoof@gmail.com
Artfully yours,
Goof
In an attempt to keep things relevant I donned you all with this glorious youtube video. A masterpeice in its subtleties, this video only requires about four minutes of your attention. In full length this video is two hours long, which is pretty lengthy... considering it's a music video.
Yes, I crown this weeks Hero of the Week to Mister R Kelly and his music video entitled "Trapped in the Closet"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8IVlfyIc8g
Now don't be confused by this ambigious title, R Kelly makes it clear that his orientation is nothing to question in the first few seconds. As for the content I beg you to watch to the end of the clip and cherish the ridiculousness.
As I am always on the look out for your next Hero of the week, someone who tops the charts and begs the question "Why on Earth would you do that?" I'd love to hear suggestions! Email me your hero of the week at GetOnItGoof@gmail.com
Artfully yours,
Goof
Monday, June 28, 2010
Heroes
So I'm introducing a new segment to my blog entitled "Heroes." These are the awkward giants of the world, who grace our presence and turn our heads. My usual Heroes are elderly people with purple hair or full set jogging suits.
However, this week my Hero has been split between two highly heroic figures, and I'm sure you'll enjoy each. Congratulations to you all, and if you have Heroes or stories of heroes leave a comment!
Hero Number 1: My Sister
This week I received a text that went a little something like " So I just scolded an emo kid in the middle of the Gap... and it came out in an accent." Keeping in mind that my sister is not very theatrical, I found this highly amusing and awarded her british admonishments with Hero of the Week.
Hero Number 2: The Elderly Couple
I caught this amazing duo in Cosco who apparently decided it was best to walk around in their western garb. I nabbed this picture ungracefully, trying to stand inconspicuously in front of them as I held my phone underneath my chin.
I applaud them for their loud choice and only hope that I too can aspire to their greatness.
That's it for this weeks edition of Heroes! Please send me suggestions of your own Heroes at GetOnItGoof@gmail.com
As for now be bold, be brave, and most importantly be obscenely awkward!
~Goof
However, this week my Hero has been split between two highly heroic figures, and I'm sure you'll enjoy each. Congratulations to you all, and if you have Heroes or stories of heroes leave a comment!
Hero Number 1: My Sister
This week I received a text that went a little something like " So I just scolded an emo kid in the middle of the Gap... and it came out in an accent." Keeping in mind that my sister is not very theatrical, I found this highly amusing and awarded her british admonishments with Hero of the Week.
Hero Number 2: The Elderly Couple
I caught this amazing duo in Cosco who apparently decided it was best to walk around in their western garb. I nabbed this picture ungracefully, trying to stand inconspicuously in front of them as I held my phone underneath my chin.
I applaud them for their loud choice and only hope that I too can aspire to their greatness.
That's it for this weeks edition of Heroes! Please send me suggestions of your own Heroes at GetOnItGoof@gmail.com
As for now be bold, be brave, and most importantly be obscenely awkward!
~Goof
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Scaring the Hell Out of Myself
I know you've all been wondering where I've been. All three of you.
Basically I've been keeping busy! A few auditions, a smattering of performances, and as of tonight one open mic night. Yes I have finally forgone my long held fear of doing stand up. I always found comedians to be some of the most courageous and scariest people in the business.
My dad always encouraged me to do standup, to the point of severe annoyance. Whenever something slightly humorous (more often than not frustrating) he would say "think how much material you're getting from all this!" I'd roll my eyes and take his comments as impossibilities.
But these past few weeks I've been seeing more and more stand up lately. The good and the bad. more often the bad, but that's pretty normal. I remember one of my kids, whom i just scolded for trying to be the comedian during a serious moment, commenting that comedians are all rich. i couldn't help but rasp derisively sensing his sweet innocence truly believing that all comedians were good, and all of them were the ones he saw on tv. Yet, despite my knowledge of how hard it is and how poor most comedians are I began to think. And slowly this curiosity has been growing inside of me.
So much that a voice inside of me today said "Tonight. Tonight you will go to an open mic and perform"
...Whhhaaat?
"Yep. Now go look one up"
So began my search. I ended up pretty quickly on this site http://www.badslava.com/los-angeles-open-mics.htm which led me to the same conundrum, everyone wants my money and not me! It seems rare that anyone is actually seeking talent anymore. Just a means for money.
Which pisses me off more than anything. So I scrolled down and found a small venue called the Sunset Grill, and there was no fee cover charge or two drink minimum!For anyone seeking a break out venue I must warn you this is not the place. But rather a place to warm your feet and work on your material. The majority of the audience are people who are waiting to perform.
So expect scattered laughter and judgmental looks, which honestly is a good way to start. Everyone is a little busy worried about their own set or too entranced with wondering where their career will ever go.
However, in my opinion this is exactly what I needed as a starting performer (Well at least in stand up). It challenges you to stay awake and relevant. A few times I noticed my audience looking down at their notes, so I tried to draw them back in, making a joke as though it were contrived solely for them. In some ways it worked. I have a ways to go, especially in the confidence department, but in the end I'm glad I did it. I walked away with legs made for the sea but I walked away with a little more experience than I had before. And not once did I spend a dime :)
Basically I've been keeping busy! A few auditions, a smattering of performances, and as of tonight one open mic night. Yes I have finally forgone my long held fear of doing stand up. I always found comedians to be some of the most courageous and scariest people in the business.
My dad always encouraged me to do standup, to the point of severe annoyance. Whenever something slightly humorous (more often than not frustrating) he would say "think how much material you're getting from all this!" I'd roll my eyes and take his comments as impossibilities.
But these past few weeks I've been seeing more and more stand up lately. The good and the bad. more often the bad, but that's pretty normal. I remember one of my kids, whom i just scolded for trying to be the comedian during a serious moment, commenting that comedians are all rich. i couldn't help but rasp derisively sensing his sweet innocence truly believing that all comedians were good, and all of them were the ones he saw on tv. Yet, despite my knowledge of how hard it is and how poor most comedians are I began to think. And slowly this curiosity has been growing inside of me.
So much that a voice inside of me today said "Tonight. Tonight you will go to an open mic and perform"
...Whhhaaat?
"Yep. Now go look one up"
So began my search. I ended up pretty quickly on this site http://www.badslava.com/los-angeles-open-mics.htm which led me to the same conundrum, everyone wants my money and not me! It seems rare that anyone is actually seeking talent anymore. Just a means for money.
Which pisses me off more than anything. So I scrolled down and found a small venue called the Sunset Grill, and there was no fee cover charge or two drink minimum!For anyone seeking a break out venue I must warn you this is not the place. But rather a place to warm your feet and work on your material. The majority of the audience are people who are waiting to perform.
So expect scattered laughter and judgmental looks, which honestly is a good way to start. Everyone is a little busy worried about their own set or too entranced with wondering where their career will ever go.
However, in my opinion this is exactly what I needed as a starting performer (Well at least in stand up). It challenges you to stay awake and relevant. A few times I noticed my audience looking down at their notes, so I tried to draw them back in, making a joke as though it were contrived solely for them. In some ways it worked. I have a ways to go, especially in the confidence department, but in the end I'm glad I did it. I walked away with legs made for the sea but I walked away with a little more experience than I had before. And not once did I spend a dime :)
Sunday, May 16, 2010
A Harried Attempt
**This was not recent, this was written a while ago. My eyebrows are not as jacked up currently***
I should probably never drink a lot of coffee and then try to get ready for an audition. It was the afternoon before I had to go to work at the YMCA and I had just gotten off of work at Starbucks. I had an audition later that evening so I knew the only time I could really prepare was the few hours between Starbucks and the YMCA. After Starbucks I was still feeling sleepy so I order a triple tall peppermint white mocha, my first mistake of the morning. Since the tall drink is fairly small, I had finished about half of it by the time I reached my house. I was doing great on time so far and I was starting to feel the first inkling of energy. Once I was done showering I finished the rest of my drink and now everything was moving in slow motion around me as I whipped through my chores. Laundry, done. Dishes, clean. Acting submissions, sent. Taxes…later. Everything was ready as I printed out my newly updated resume and organized it in a folder along side my headshot.
Now all I had to do was maintenance my face. It had been a while since I had an audition so things were starting get a little out of hand, mainly my eyebrows. Now I’ve never been very good at keeping up with my eyebrows, its just one of those tasks I dread doing and I’m too lazy to go get them done every other week, or however often you’re supposed to. So I do what I find natural, I look up instructions on You Tube. I sift through all of the instruction videos geared towards male upkeep of the eyebrow (I never realized this was a thing for men as well) and I find a fairly homemade instruction video. She begins with all the tools you’ll need in order to accomplish this task and I nod along as she lists tweezers and an eyeliner pencil for touch ups. But then she mentions a pair of small scissors. “I have a pair of mustache scissors, which work very well for eyebrows,” she says and I start to scramble. What once was energy fueled by three shots of espresso, quickly becomes fuel for an overactive anxiety tantrum.
Tiny Scissors!? I don’t have tiny scissors!?
Maybe my roommates have some!
And I begin to rush through the bathroom like a whirl wind all the while justifying my borrowing by saying “I’ll clean them thoroughly after!” As I open every drawer and cabinet, the instruction girl ideally carries on about the benefits of the various kinds of eyebrow wax. Finally I flop down in front of the computer, puffing air in and out as I hold my foot long pair of scissors that are normally used to cut large pieces of paper, or boxes. The girl flippantly throws out the warning that one should only use a pair of scissors that are small so as to maintain precision. I pause, considering her warning, and finally choose to ignore it as the minutes tick by closer to when I’m supposed to leave for work.
First, eyebrow girl goes into the general cleaning up under the eyebrow, and I start to skim through in order to find where she talks about trimming. With a fancy little eyebrow brush she combs her eyebrow up and talks about the importance of line and eye placement, while I suddenly start frantically searching for something resembling a tiny brush. At first I just use the tip of the tweezers, but as my eyebrow slowly sinks back down I realize I’ll need something else. I grab hold of my hair brush with the plastic knobby bristles and haphazardly start to rake my eyebrow upwards, occasionally taking my eyelid with it. All the while, instructional eyebrow girl shows the exact way to hold your tiny scissors, as I lower my airplane sized pair closer to my face. She makes quick concise cuts as I take my eyes away from the screen in order to watch the destruction I’m about to inflict on my face.
I snip a large chunk off of one brow. It looks reasonably good!
So THAT’S how people make them smaller… Ooohh.
Excited I look down at the clock, only 8 minutes left before I should leave. Panicked I start trimming a little too much. Suddenly I look in the mirror; my left eyebrow has a large gap in it while my right one looks like a caterpillar run over with a lawn mower. I start to panic even more, the caffeine coursing through my veins, blood pounding in my ears as I go red and blotchy with embarrassment and anger.
Umm, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO YOUR FACE!?!?!
Silently I hear the voice of one of my class clowns saying “Miss Katie your eyebrows are jacked UP!”
I scramble, the eyebrow lady is just touching on the subject of how to cover up any mistake with eyeliner. I grab my set of pencils that were mainly used for shows and old age makeup and go to town. 5 minutes left. My right eyebrow looks like Charlie Chaplin’s stunted mustache as my left lazily stretches out perfectly across my brow. I freak and try to correct only making the right one larger and. I start back peddling by trying to make the left one match. Now I have 70 year old man-brows darker than asphalt. 3 minutes until I need to leave…
In order to start over I furiously wash my face making it bright as a cherry; which becomes neon in comparison to the suddenly very pale patches in my eyebrows.
I should cancel my audition, I think to myself.
Oh stop it just take a deep breath, and try again. You look funny but you can still act.
Ugh, fine.
So I take a deep breath acknowledge I may be a tad late for the YMCA and continue to fill in the blanks on my face. Slowly but surely my eyebrows suddenly resemble… well, eyebrows! I look at them from side to side, they seem alright. I pack my things quickly noting all of the papers and clothes I’ll need to take to my audition.
I rush out the door in a flurry and make it to the YMCA only 5 minutes passed my usual time. As I sit in the office my co-worker, and the local office teaser, talks to me while glancing every now and then above my eyes. She says nothing about them. I breathe.
Just don’t rub your forehead.
~Goof
I should probably never drink a lot of coffee and then try to get ready for an audition. It was the afternoon before I had to go to work at the YMCA and I had just gotten off of work at Starbucks. I had an audition later that evening so I knew the only time I could really prepare was the few hours between Starbucks and the YMCA. After Starbucks I was still feeling sleepy so I order a triple tall peppermint white mocha, my first mistake of the morning. Since the tall drink is fairly small, I had finished about half of it by the time I reached my house. I was doing great on time so far and I was starting to feel the first inkling of energy. Once I was done showering I finished the rest of my drink and now everything was moving in slow motion around me as I whipped through my chores. Laundry, done. Dishes, clean. Acting submissions, sent. Taxes…later. Everything was ready as I printed out my newly updated resume and organized it in a folder along side my headshot.
Now all I had to do was maintenance my face. It had been a while since I had an audition so things were starting get a little out of hand, mainly my eyebrows. Now I’ve never been very good at keeping up with my eyebrows, its just one of those tasks I dread doing and I’m too lazy to go get them done every other week, or however often you’re supposed to. So I do what I find natural, I look up instructions on You Tube. I sift through all of the instruction videos geared towards male upkeep of the eyebrow (I never realized this was a thing for men as well) and I find a fairly homemade instruction video. She begins with all the tools you’ll need in order to accomplish this task and I nod along as she lists tweezers and an eyeliner pencil for touch ups. But then she mentions a pair of small scissors. “I have a pair of mustache scissors, which work very well for eyebrows,” she says and I start to scramble. What once was energy fueled by three shots of espresso, quickly becomes fuel for an overactive anxiety tantrum.
Tiny Scissors!? I don’t have tiny scissors!?
Maybe my roommates have some!
And I begin to rush through the bathroom like a whirl wind all the while justifying my borrowing by saying “I’ll clean them thoroughly after!” As I open every drawer and cabinet, the instruction girl ideally carries on about the benefits of the various kinds of eyebrow wax. Finally I flop down in front of the computer, puffing air in and out as I hold my foot long pair of scissors that are normally used to cut large pieces of paper, or boxes. The girl flippantly throws out the warning that one should only use a pair of scissors that are small so as to maintain precision. I pause, considering her warning, and finally choose to ignore it as the minutes tick by closer to when I’m supposed to leave for work.
First, eyebrow girl goes into the general cleaning up under the eyebrow, and I start to skim through in order to find where she talks about trimming. With a fancy little eyebrow brush she combs her eyebrow up and talks about the importance of line and eye placement, while I suddenly start frantically searching for something resembling a tiny brush. At first I just use the tip of the tweezers, but as my eyebrow slowly sinks back down I realize I’ll need something else. I grab hold of my hair brush with the plastic knobby bristles and haphazardly start to rake my eyebrow upwards, occasionally taking my eyelid with it. All the while, instructional eyebrow girl shows the exact way to hold your tiny scissors, as I lower my airplane sized pair closer to my face. She makes quick concise cuts as I take my eyes away from the screen in order to watch the destruction I’m about to inflict on my face.
I snip a large chunk off of one brow. It looks reasonably good!
So THAT’S how people make them smaller… Ooohh.
Excited I look down at the clock, only 8 minutes left before I should leave. Panicked I start trimming a little too much. Suddenly I look in the mirror; my left eyebrow has a large gap in it while my right one looks like a caterpillar run over with a lawn mower. I start to panic even more, the caffeine coursing through my veins, blood pounding in my ears as I go red and blotchy with embarrassment and anger.
Umm, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO YOUR FACE!?!?!
Silently I hear the voice of one of my class clowns saying “Miss Katie your eyebrows are jacked UP!”
I scramble, the eyebrow lady is just touching on the subject of how to cover up any mistake with eyeliner. I grab my set of pencils that were mainly used for shows and old age makeup and go to town. 5 minutes left. My right eyebrow looks like Charlie Chaplin’s stunted mustache as my left lazily stretches out perfectly across my brow. I freak and try to correct only making the right one larger and. I start back peddling by trying to make the left one match. Now I have 70 year old man-brows darker than asphalt. 3 minutes until I need to leave…
In order to start over I furiously wash my face making it bright as a cherry; which becomes neon in comparison to the suddenly very pale patches in my eyebrows.
I should cancel my audition, I think to myself.
Oh stop it just take a deep breath, and try again. You look funny but you can still act.
Ugh, fine.
So I take a deep breath acknowledge I may be a tad late for the YMCA and continue to fill in the blanks on my face. Slowly but surely my eyebrows suddenly resemble… well, eyebrows! I look at them from side to side, they seem alright. I pack my things quickly noting all of the papers and clothes I’ll need to take to my audition.
I rush out the door in a flurry and make it to the YMCA only 5 minutes passed my usual time. As I sit in the office my co-worker, and the local office teaser, talks to me while glancing every now and then above my eyes. She says nothing about them. I breathe.
Just don’t rub your forehead.
~Goof
Friday, May 14, 2010
Frued Is Messing Up My Flow
When I start working on a project I get overly excited about the idea. I dream big. Everything and anything is in the realm of possibility and I feel like my resources are limitless.
Then it hits.
One minute I’m flying on the wings of an idea the next I’m face planted into a cement wall of doubt. I start thinking, you can’t do that. Or my God why on earth would that ever work? Or even, do you realize what you’re doing by starting this project? Yes, ruining your career. That’s what you’re doing.
Now this may seem harsh but my conscious is the only one to clearly pose these questions. It’s my sensor that helps me double check whether or not I’m headed down the right path. I hate listening to it but I feel like it’s been placed there to at least to keep myself in check.
When I was studying psych we constantly talked about that pesky subject, the id ego and superego. I had a high school teacher originally explain this theory to me in my Junior Humanities course. He said that the Superego was that tight ass who wore the button up shirt underneath the checkered sweater vest all the while adjusting his glasses, where as the “id was well…” Then he proceeded to make various caveman noises and grope the air. This meaning that the id was our caveman side who only sought the basic needs, food, shelter, sleep, and sex. Between these two is the ego trying to ration with each side and choose the most logical outcome.
It’s a simple explanation, I’d later go on to understand it more in depth, but to a Junior in high school it was the perfect visual.
I think my superego is off the hook. That little tight ass is driving me nuts. It keeps me in check but it also gives me doubt and heightened frustration. Every project I start isn’t good enough. Every idea I have falls short. All the while my id is off in the corner distracting me and pulling me off topic, usually with food. I’ll be writing or working on an idea when out of nowhere it starts in…
Id- “Food”
Me- (or maybe it’s my ego…) “You just ate a snack five minutes ago.”
Id- “FOoOOoOD”
Me- “But I’m working, give me a few more minutes”
Id- “apple and peanut butter”
Me- “Oh. That does sound good…”
And off I go. Sometimes it’s an ice cream sandwich and my superego jumps up and tells me how unhealthy that it. And on and on they go.
Here’s my diagnosis, I have developed a shy ego. My monitor between the two needs to step it up and take over. Time to stop being a pansy and just enjoy the moments as they come.
But I wonder, where does my insane need to be n facebook come from?
Time to back to writing. Or maybe taking a shower…
~Goof
Then it hits.
One minute I’m flying on the wings of an idea the next I’m face planted into a cement wall of doubt. I start thinking, you can’t do that. Or my God why on earth would that ever work? Or even, do you realize what you’re doing by starting this project? Yes, ruining your career. That’s what you’re doing.
Now this may seem harsh but my conscious is the only one to clearly pose these questions. It’s my sensor that helps me double check whether or not I’m headed down the right path. I hate listening to it but I feel like it’s been placed there to at least to keep myself in check.
When I was studying psych we constantly talked about that pesky subject, the id ego and superego. I had a high school teacher originally explain this theory to me in my Junior Humanities course. He said that the Superego was that tight ass who wore the button up shirt underneath the checkered sweater vest all the while adjusting his glasses, where as the “id was well…” Then he proceeded to make various caveman noises and grope the air. This meaning that the id was our caveman side who only sought the basic needs, food, shelter, sleep, and sex. Between these two is the ego trying to ration with each side and choose the most logical outcome.
It’s a simple explanation, I’d later go on to understand it more in depth, but to a Junior in high school it was the perfect visual.
I think my superego is off the hook. That little tight ass is driving me nuts. It keeps me in check but it also gives me doubt and heightened frustration. Every project I start isn’t good enough. Every idea I have falls short. All the while my id is off in the corner distracting me and pulling me off topic, usually with food. I’ll be writing or working on an idea when out of nowhere it starts in…
Id- “Food”
Me- (or maybe it’s my ego…) “You just ate a snack five minutes ago.”
Id- “FOoOOoOD”
Me- “But I’m working, give me a few more minutes”
Id- “apple and peanut butter”
Me- “Oh. That does sound good…”
And off I go. Sometimes it’s an ice cream sandwich and my superego jumps up and tells me how unhealthy that it. And on and on they go.
Here’s my diagnosis, I have developed a shy ego. My monitor between the two needs to step it up and take over. Time to stop being a pansy and just enjoy the moments as they come.
But I wonder, where does my insane need to be n facebook come from?
Time to back to writing. Or maybe taking a shower…
~Goof
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Perseverance
“It all started when I accidentally gave him the finger”
Day jobs.
If there’s one thing about the actor’s life I still haven’t meshed with it’s giving up my day jobs. I know it’s ruining my availability to audition but not having one also destroys my ability of having enough money for rent.
In the late afternoon my second job has me monitoring several preadolescents. With that comes many hilarious quotes.
“It’s called Sharks and Meadows, duh!”
Seeing these mistakes on a daily basis only leads to me believe that my position as a young actress is very similar. In a recent letter to a dear friend I wrote that post graduation is like becoming a freshman all over again. Only this time you’re a freshman in life. You’re awkward, you’re lost, and for the first time you are truly on your own.
“I hope we end this war with the Vietnamese”
“You mean the Iraqis?”
“Same thing”
Trying to explain agents and casting directors to my parents amounts to little more than the discussions my preteens have. I have no clue what I’m saying and even as I’m pretending to know what this business is all about I find myself explaining only what I’ve heard other people saying.
“They asked me to spell IHOP. I. H. O. P. I don’t get it?”
“Do you mean ICUP?”
“Maybe…”
A friend of mine who works in the business gave me a gem once, “Never trust ‘what they say’” This meaning that people talk all the time but until you experience it you never truly know what’s going on.
So on I trek through all the muck and mire trying to figure out what it is that will get me into a real audition. But I can’t help but feel everyone is trying to prey off of my youthful innocence. Audition after audition all I hear is how I need to pay for participation. I had a notice for an audition sent to me about a stand up gig. I was excited to get working on the new project when suddenly I started reading the fine print. Ah I see.
“There are monthly dues required to be apart of this program”
Great. The last thing I need to be doing is paying someone else to get me onstage.
“Miss Katie if you were a warrior cat what would your name be?”
“Wha-...uh…Shining Phoenix”
The only solution I can think of is to commit. Fully commit. Throw myself out there into the thick of comedy clubs, auditions, and talent shows. Maybe I’ll get back into background work. I really don’t know. And I have no clue if I’m going to regret it in the end. But I guess the whole point is to keep trying and grow beyond paying dues physically and financially.
~Goof
Day jobs.
If there’s one thing about the actor’s life I still haven’t meshed with it’s giving up my day jobs. I know it’s ruining my availability to audition but not having one also destroys my ability of having enough money for rent.
In the late afternoon my second job has me monitoring several preadolescents. With that comes many hilarious quotes.
“It’s called Sharks and Meadows, duh!”
Seeing these mistakes on a daily basis only leads to me believe that my position as a young actress is very similar. In a recent letter to a dear friend I wrote that post graduation is like becoming a freshman all over again. Only this time you’re a freshman in life. You’re awkward, you’re lost, and for the first time you are truly on your own.
“I hope we end this war with the Vietnamese”
“You mean the Iraqis?”
“Same thing”
Trying to explain agents and casting directors to my parents amounts to little more than the discussions my preteens have. I have no clue what I’m saying and even as I’m pretending to know what this business is all about I find myself explaining only what I’ve heard other people saying.
“They asked me to spell IHOP. I. H. O. P. I don’t get it?”
“Do you mean ICUP?”
“Maybe…”
A friend of mine who works in the business gave me a gem once, “Never trust ‘what they say’” This meaning that people talk all the time but until you experience it you never truly know what’s going on.
So on I trek through all the muck and mire trying to figure out what it is that will get me into a real audition. But I can’t help but feel everyone is trying to prey off of my youthful innocence. Audition after audition all I hear is how I need to pay for participation. I had a notice for an audition sent to me about a stand up gig. I was excited to get working on the new project when suddenly I started reading the fine print. Ah I see.
“There are monthly dues required to be apart of this program”
Great. The last thing I need to be doing is paying someone else to get me onstage.
“Miss Katie if you were a warrior cat what would your name be?”
“Wha-...uh…Shining Phoenix”
The only solution I can think of is to commit. Fully commit. Throw myself out there into the thick of comedy clubs, auditions, and talent shows. Maybe I’ll get back into background work. I really don’t know. And I have no clue if I’m going to regret it in the end. But I guess the whole point is to keep trying and grow beyond paying dues physically and financially.
~Goof
Monday, May 10, 2010
A Snarky Year in Postgrad
"Are you getting a higher education or do you like working at Starbucks?"
That's not exactly what was said but.... allow me to back track a bit.
"I'd like to buy a gift card"
I looked over from the bar and saw a short woman anxiously awaiting to be rung up.
"Oh is this a thank you gift card?" says Marcie, my co-worker on the till.
It's Starbucks, we're masters at small talk. Ranging from the innocuous to the obscene we own at any conversation start up.
"No, my nephew's graduation"
"Oh that's great," I chime in (It is the duty of the barista to butt in at all moments and provide the color commentary, especially during a customer lull). "For high school or college?"
"College" she proclaims proudly, "Boston University" she adds.
"Impressive!"
She looks at me as though she's concerned, she pauses. Then timidly... barely audible, she adds "I hope... you too are working on..."
She trails off avoiding her chance to say something to the effect of ".. getting a higher education or do you like asking would you likp whip cream with that?"
"Oh I've already graduated college"
"How great what did you-"
"Double degree, actually" im bragging now but its really what needs to be said.
"Oh..." She trails off again concerned once more for my sanity and tottering dangerously on the edge of calling me a liar.
"Alright," a customer behind her speaks up, "what were the degrees?"
"Psychology," I say matter of factly, "With an emphasis in Child and Family Development. And Theater" A silent shock of spreads through the small gaggle of customers as they try to work out the math.
"And now I work here," I add, "At Starbucks." I spread my arms amongst the several varieties of liquid sugars, "Yay Economy"
I'm almost exactly one year out of college, I'm living in Southern California and auditioning every other day for productions that read like they're written by a prepubescent in the dark of his room. The entries that follow are the chronicles of those adventures and the discoveries made as I venture futher into the bowels of Hollywood.
~Goof
That's not exactly what was said but.... allow me to back track a bit.
"I'd like to buy a gift card"
I looked over from the bar and saw a short woman anxiously awaiting to be rung up.
"Oh is this a thank you gift card?" says Marcie, my co-worker on the till.
It's Starbucks, we're masters at small talk. Ranging from the innocuous to the obscene we own at any conversation start up.
"No, my nephew's graduation"
"Oh that's great," I chime in (It is the duty of the barista to butt in at all moments and provide the color commentary, especially during a customer lull). "For high school or college?"
"College" she proclaims proudly, "Boston University" she adds.
"Impressive!"
She looks at me as though she's concerned, she pauses. Then timidly... barely audible, she adds "I hope... you too are working on..."
She trails off avoiding her chance to say something to the effect of ".. getting a higher education or do you like asking would you likp whip cream with that?"
"Oh I've already graduated college"
"How great what did you-"
"Double degree, actually" im bragging now but its really what needs to be said.
"Oh..." She trails off again concerned once more for my sanity and tottering dangerously on the edge of calling me a liar.
"Alright," a customer behind her speaks up, "what were the degrees?"
"Psychology," I say matter of factly, "With an emphasis in Child and Family Development. And Theater" A silent shock of spreads through the small gaggle of customers as they try to work out the math.
"And now I work here," I add, "At Starbucks." I spread my arms amongst the several varieties of liquid sugars, "Yay Economy"
I'm almost exactly one year out of college, I'm living in Southern California and auditioning every other day for productions that read like they're written by a prepubescent in the dark of his room. The entries that follow are the chronicles of those adventures and the discoveries made as I venture futher into the bowels of Hollywood.
~Goof
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)