Someday

I try to see as many live performances as I can in Los Angeles for two reasons.

1. If they are horrible (which, let’s be honest, most of them are) it makes me feel smug.
2. If they are amazing (about 5% of the time) it inspires me.

A few nights ago my friend Noah and I ushered a Sutton Foster (big Broadway star) concert. We couldn’t afford tickets but somehow Noah was able to snag us jobs as ushers.

As the House Manager of the theatre was explaining our very important role of handing out programs, he mentioned “unfortunately, you will be unable to meet Ms. Foster after the show because she has a red-eye to catch back to New York.”

That was fine with me. I would rather not meet someone I’m a fan of so they don’t have an opportunity to ruin my crazy, unrealistic, view of them.

When the concert began, I settled in – ready to be inspired. As I listened to Sutton’s incredible voice something crept in on me that I wasn’t expecting. It wasn’t inspiration and I definitely wasn’t feeling smug…

No.

It was pure, unadulterated bitterness.

Sorry, Sutton.

All I could think about was how much I wanted to be up there. How much I wanted to be able to say I had a red-eye to catch back to New York after a doing command performance in LA.

Instead, I’m doing a command performance at a restaurant and then catching the red-eye to my nanny job.

I tried to push my bitterness away: She had worked hard! I will be just like her someday.

But I’m tired of saying someday.

I’ve fed myself those stories for years.

Someday… I’ll tell Jay Leno how I used to eat popcorn for dinner because I was too poor to buy food.

Someday… I will give an Oscar speech about how struggling for so long has made me the artist I am today.

Someday… I will look back on my experiences and think about how being dirt poor was truly the happiest time of my life.

But I’ve come to a conclusion: Someday sucks.

And there’s no amount of pep talks or good vibes that will change that fact.

Actors are always trying to reassure themselves that their situation is not permanent, but what would happen if we were simply okay with the fact that sometimes its just too damn hard to see the positive?

To just… sit… with that reality? And it’s okay… It’s okay to hate it.

It occurred to me the other day – after I opened my fridge and found only mayonnaise – that I’ve struggled enough, thank you.

I’m done now.

So, Hollywood, you can call off the dogs! You got me! I admit it! I didn’t know it would be this difficult, I thought I would rise above the average actor, blah blah blah.

I know now that this business can be rough.

And ugly.

And unfair.

And lately I’ve felt like taking a big, heavy sigh and just…giving up.

(I imagine it sometimes and relief washes over me like tequila – I mean rain.)

How good it would be to admit defeat… To look Hollywood, and all it’s bullshit, in the eye and say, ”NO THANK YOU. I choose something… else.”

I’m sure Hollywood would respond with a resounding, “What was your name again?”

And inevitably, just when I’m on the edge, ready to fling myself into the sea of other failed actors and writers, something pulls me back.

Sometimes it’s my competitive nature.

Sometimes it’s my friends.

Sometimes it’s not really anything at all.

This time it was an audition.

I think my manager must have sensed my desperation when she called me the other day.

I had an audition for Cameron Crowe’s new movie starring Matt Damon!

And like a bolt of lightning I was back. (Matt Damon can do that to a girl)

I could be in a movie directed by Cameron Crowe…

Someday.