CoreVeganSkinnyBitch

I’m hungry.

I’ve been hungry for about four days now.

Why?

What I’m about to say is going to shame my beef-stew-making grandmother and cause my deer-slaying cousins to disown me.

I’ve decided to go Vegan.

But only for a few weeks!

I just wanted to see if the same girl who has had a stronger relationship with her refrigerator than with any man, could cut all that crap out.

It’s not been easy.

Also, because I’m a masochist, I’ve joined CorePowerYoga.

My other, super-secret and shameful reason for all this punishment is that Pilot Season is approaching. The BIGGEST season for actors. The season that could make my career!

And I don’t ever want to lose a role because I like cake too much.

It’s stupid, and hard, and unfair – but it’s true.

So friends, family, and the painters painting the apartment unit below me who inisist on starting at 6 am, FORGIVE ME.

I’m going to be one of those skinny, hungry, tired bitches for the next few weeks.

Now excuse me while I go eat my non-dairy, non-animal product lunch.

Blurg.

New Years Eve 1990

This is me.


New Years Eve, 1990.

It was the first time my parents had let me stay up to ring in the New Year.

Clearly, I’m pretty excited about it.

Note the adult-sized glasses and the bangs that don’t quit.

I had worked diligently to make the confetti. My mom had provided the party hats, and my parents had sacrificed one of the last adult holidays they had.

My father looks like he wishes it was New Year’s Eve 1981.

But all that aside, the thing that stands out most for me in this photo is my crazy joy. I mean, I look like I’m going to have a happiness seizure.

It was the excitement of staying up late and the promise that it was a new year. Who knew what would happen in 1991!

(Turns out, my first boyfriend would tell me he loved me and my mom would decide that a bowl-cut would really ‘bring out my eyes.’)

But all that was still unknown for me. The year had not yet begun and it could be anything I wanted it to be!

I miss that.

These days, I have a better haircut but a worse attitude. I’m cynical about resolutions and new beginnings. I just don’t have that hope like I used to.

But this year, I’m bringing it back.

Who knows! This could be the year I get the role that will change my life. This could be the year I
make more money as an actor than at all my other jobs combined.

This could be my year.

So here’s to the girl from 1990. To the girl who was convinced joy could be found in anything. To the girl who knew with all her heart that the future would be bright.

Twenty years later, I want to be that girl again.

Thanks!

I went back home for Thanksgiving.

It took me four planes and fifteen Dramamine but I finally made it to my grandparent’s farm in the middle of North Dakota.

It was 7 degrees. It was desolate. It was wonderful.

In between eating ‘salads’ made up of whipped cream and cookies, explaining to my grandpa that being unmarried in LA does not mean I’m a leper, and warming up the car for an hour before it’s warm enough to drive, I had time to think about all the things that I was really thankful for on this trip back home. (It was Thanksgiving, after all.)

And when I returned from all the peace of North Dakota to the bright, harsh light of Los Angeles the transition was a little rough.

My manager called and told me I did not get that role on Parks And Recreation and my health insurance company informed me they do not take IOUs. I needed a little pick-me-up and decided to pull out that list take a good hard look at it.

To remind myself of the clarity I seemed to have back home.

It was surprising home much better it made me feel.

So…with no further ado:

I Am Thankful For…

1. The flight attendant who high-fived me after I accidentally hit a button that turned on all the
flashing lights on the plane.

2. The snow.

3. My grandpa who still asks me to recite the nursery rhymes he taught me when I was four.

4. The fact that I rarely laugh as hard as I do when I’m with my family.

5. My direct flight back to LA from Fargo.

6. People from my hometown who always ask, “So – are you famous yet?”

7. Lots and lots and lots of wine.

8. Lots and lots and lots AND LOTS of food.

9. The fact that despite serious turbulence our plane did not crash.
10. The clarity I seem to have back home.

And even though it’s harder to make a list of simple, thankful thoughts in Los Angeles I am thankful for one big thing.

That I’m here.

Mean Reds

Yesterday I almost drop-kicked a morbidly obese meter man for giving me a ticket.

Which is very unlike me.

If you ask any of my friends they will tell you that I am unendingly cheerful.

Once, while working as a hostess in a restaurant, a guest filled out a comment card that said, “the hostess was too chipper.”

TOO CHIPPER.

I remember thinking at the time:

How can I possibly be too chipper?

And then I went on picking wildflowers and whistling.

I’m all about avoiding conflict. I think the worse thing I’ve ever said to someone was:

You make me feel angry.

After which I covered my mouth, horrified I could say something so cruel, burst into tears, and begged for forgiveness.

So I don’t just go around drop-kicking people.

Just so we’re clear on that.

I’m sure at this point you are wondering what the hell this has to do with acting in Los Angeles.

Well, I think I’ve traced all my anger and frustration back to my career.

There are times when I feel like things are moving forward. Things are happening and changing
in ways that I’m excited about.

But I’m tired.

Tired of hearing “no” disguised in passive aggressive compliments and wishes of luck.

In other words, can someone just give me a fucking break??

I have a bad case of the mean reds.

Classic movie reference, anyone?

Audrey Hepburn, in Breakfast at Tiffany’s says:

The blues are because you’re getting fat, and maybe it’s been raining too long. You’re just sad, that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid, and you don’t know what you’re afraid of.

I am afraid.

Afraid this whole dream of mine, this life I’ve been pursuing for what seems like forever, is just too far out of my grasp. That I’ve wasted years of my life on something that won’t happen.

And that makes me angry.

Pissed, actually.

And what makes me even more upset is the fact I let myself think those things.

That’s not me. I’m not a “mean reds” kind of girl.

I’m a bright blue or sunny yellow!

And when I feel like the world is against me (or at least the Los Angeles Parking Enforcement) I need to remember who I am.

I am the girl who believes in herself.

I am the girl who is on the right path.

I am the girl who is too chipper, dammit!

Vintage Boots

Yesterday I auditioned for an acting class.

Which means that yesterday I almost threw-up, had continuous cold and sweaty palms, and wanted to die for the better portion of the day.

There is nothing that makes me more nervous than to have my peers and a renowned acting coach watch me as I try to prove I’m good enough.

At least in an actual audition there are only casting directors and producers who want you to be good to make their jobs easier. In an audition for acting class, you’re surrounded by people that are secretly hoping you will fail to make them look good.

As soon as I walked into the building I was uncomfortable.

The guy at the desk wearing a headset and suit jacket, greeted me with a smile that said, “I’m
way more comfortable than you and know exactly what I’m doing but I’m still going to be over-friendly just to prove how cool everyone is here.”

He told me to hand over my headshot and take off my shoes.

Excuse me?

He looked at me with an unwavering smile. He had obviously had this conversation before.

Just, take off your shoes.

I looked around. Everyone was in socks. Shoes were stacked in little cubbies all around the entryway.

I started to panic.

These shoes make my outfit. This is my power outfit. The one that says, “I’m cute and pulled-together but still edgy because look at my vintage boots!”

Without the vintage boots I was just…cute. Who wants to be ‘just cute’ in LA??

Now, I know taking off your shoes was supposed to make everyone feel comfortable, but of course (as things like that often do) it just made me feel less comfortable.

As I trudged up the stairs to the group audition in my tights with the giant hole in the toe (BECAUSE I DIDN’T THINK ANYONE WOULD EVER SEE IT) I already felt defeated.

But – I have to say; I really loved the acting coach.

For my audition I chose sides from one of my favorite real-life auditions. I played (as I often do) a comically upbeat woman who is desperately trying to hang on to reality.

Wait a second…

Something just clicked.

ANYWAY.

Afterward, as I was simultaneously listening to feedback and trying to swallow down my vomit, the coach asked me why I chose that particular scene.

I explained that I always go out for characters like that and I think that’s how casting directors view me.

And you guys, she literally said:

I don’t see that at all. You are sitting here right now and you look so cute and pulled-together.

I wanted to jump up from my chair and yell:

Wait!! Just let me get my boots!!

But despite my shoeless audition and ridiculous nerves, I got in to the advanced class.

Just one small step for me and one giant leap for my pocket book.

And as I was walking back to my car (in my boots) I thought long and hard about the shoe situation.

If taking off my shoes is going to help me get more acting jobs than I guess it’s worth it.

I’ll just have to buy some really cute socks.

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.

Show Me The Money

In the last few months the words “Book Club Distribution” have become as elusive to me as the words “Work Out Every Day.”

When Book Club began (I know, I’m talking about it again…feel free to navigate back to Facebook, or Twitter, or that website you were looking at that you don’t want anyone to know about.)

But seriously, when Book Club began the feeling of all involved was that if we just made this one pilot Hollywood would come knocking! They would burst down our door with streamers and money and a maybe a gold leaf plaque that said something like “BEST WEB SERIES IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.”

It was a glorious feeling.

It was an uplifting feeling.

It was a shortsighted feeling.

Now, as another month sneaks up on us, we are still waiting for that call from Hollywood.

I’m starting to think they lost our number and maybe I should try calling them.

Yes, hello? Is this Hollywood? Yes, I’m just calling to tell you that we are still waiting! What? You’ve never heard of us? But…we did this really great pilot of a web show about a book club and – What? Oh, no…I’m not a millionaire….I beg pardon? Oh, um…no I would really prefer to keep my first-born child. But thanks for asking.

Apparently, you not only have to create your own work (check!) but you also have to create you own distribution deal. Everyone always told us that if we just took the time to create what we believed in, work would come to us. It turns out those people failed to mention they already had major connections in Hollywood.

Hollywood is full of people with money. But guess what? They are all financing their own movies.

So this begs the questions, how to three young producers who live in small apartments and consider “splurging” turning on the air conditioner, find the funds to film the first season of a really great show?

I think this is all coming to light for me because I’m in panic mode.

I’m just done waiting around. I feel like if I have to follow one more dead-end lead my head might explode.

And then Hollywood will be sorry!!

Or they’ll rejoice because they can stop listening to me call them and ask for funding…

I’m sure you’re all wondering how much our little web series could possibly cost.

Let me say, it’s a lot more than you might think. To do it well, to pay people what they deserve and keep up the quality we set in the pilot it would be…are you ready? Somebody make sure my grandmother has oxygen…

$200,000

For twelve episodes.

It sounds like a lot, right?

But then, if I think about what people spend on TV shows out here (7 million an episode!!) it sounds like pennies.

But it’s not pennies to those of us who actually count our pennies.

And so the search continues.

I cannot tell you how maddening it is to have the actors, the scripts, the crews, the location, and the passion. And just not have the money.

It’s like building the perfect car and not having money for gas.

For those of you who think I’m losing faith – I’m not. So many people have told me Book Club is worth something. That it’s a great comedy worth funding.

And it is.

We just need to find the people who say that and then hand us a check.