Eleventh Time's A Charm

I have had ten different addresses in five years.

TEN.

Now, I’m no good at math but I’m pretty sure that means the longest place I’ve ever stayed (on average) is six months.

And for a girl who claims to hate change – when I was four I cried behind the garage because my father sold the white Jeep – that’s a lot of moving around.

To clarify, some of those changes kept me in the same city but that still meant boxes, back spasms from the heavy lifting, and serious pimple outbreaks from all the stressing out.

And that brings me to my big “internet announcement.” I moved. Again.

So make it eleven.

But this time, folks, it’s feeling a little more permanent.

Maybe it’s because I can’t stand another zit (and neither can my agent.) Maybe it’s the fact that if I have to lift my mattress again in six months I might spontaneously combust.

Or maybe it’s because I really LOVE my apartment. Because I do. I really do.

True, traffic noise can be a little loud, the closest food to me is a name I can’t pronounce, and the most legitimate business I’ve been able to find boasts “Magic Insurance.” (Which raises the question – magic how?)

I love it because it’s mine. And there are wood floors. And a GIANT kitchen. And it’s across the street from Noah.

And when I come home from a crazy day of auditions, work, rehearsal, or getting my hair dyed an obnoxious blond color (pictures soon…) it feels peaceful. It feels like it’s saying…

Hey, you look stressed. Have a martini and a warm shower. Lie on your bed and stay awhile.

And I say…

I think I will.

Hanging On And Trying Not To Vomit

We opened the show!!

But that’s not where this story begins….

The night before we opened the show – also known as ‘The Night I Didn’t Sleep A Wink and Dreamt About Being Naked On Stage And Forgetting My Lines’ - I was speeding home in my Yaris and almost hit a man who was biking.

On the Freeway.

HE WAS RIDING HIS BICYCLE ON THE FREEWAY!

Now, I’m going to make a judgment call and guess that he was homeless. He looked exactly like Red Skelton’s Freddy the Freeloader. He was in a patchy tweed jacket, a beanie that was cocked to one side, and he was missing a few teeth. (Yes, I was able to see all that as I flew by at 80…ahem…65 mph.)

But the thing that caught me by surprise was his face. It was not the face of someone who had accidently taken what he thought was a sidewalk but turned out to be the entrance ramp to the 101. It was the face of someone who might as well have been biking down a sidewalk lined with daisies and ice cream.

His joy was unbelievable.

His head was tipped back and he was grinning a charming (and toothless) smile while his legs were moving at the speed of light.

He didn’t seem phased in the least that cars were narrowly missing him and for a brief moment I wanted to pull over and join him.

But I didn’t. Because my mom taught me that I should never get on the back of a strangers bicycle when he’s speeding down the freeway.

Anyway, back to opening night…

It was all going well, the nervous hives were under control, the armpits were fully deodorized, and I had remembered almost all of my lines. (If you ask the playwright I’m sure she will disagree.)

But with about five minutes of the show left I suddenly felt like I was going to get sick.

Not sick in a nervous way but in an “I think I ate some bad chicken” sort of way.

I stood there, holding a gun (you’ll have to come to the show to find out why) and when the other character asked..

Are you going to shoot me?

I wanted to say…

No, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to throw-up on you.

I frantically searched for an exit or a strategy to get me off the stage.

You can’t leave!!

I thought to myself.

You have LINES…and a big finish!

As the characters swirled around me and I tried to breath through my nausea, I thought about that man on the bike.

Lately I feel like my life is just like that crazy bicyclist (minus the missing teeth and the cute patch jacket.) It feels like things are speeding by me and I’m on a bike, trying to hang on and smile.

I have been living with a big ball of fear and stress bunched in my stomach for a while now. And finally, at the end of the first show, it was dissolving and trying to come up through my esophagus.

I know some of you really want this story to end with me spewing all over the stage in front of a lot of people.

Sorry to disappoint...it doesn’t.

It actually ends with a big breath, a bow, and a BIG glass of wine.

Oh yeah…and this.

And this.

A Bobby-Pins In My Tights Kind of Day

This morning I realized my tights, after wearing them around for two hours, had two bobby-pins stuck inside them.

It’s been that kind of a morning…and weekend. I’ve been a little busy. The kind of busy that you don’t realize there are hair pins stuck in your leggings.

Why am I so busy… Well, I moved apartments (which was a nightmare and a blessing all wrapped into one.) But more on that later….

The main reason for all the craziness is this little play I’m in…perhaps you’ve heard me mention it a thousand times. It’s called In the Company of Jane Doe and if you don’t go see it I will have to end our relationship (Dad, you’re off the hook since you are thousands of miles away.)
So…check this out….


See?? "Jessica Runck Invites YOU to" how can you say no to a personal invitation.

And now comes the part where I use my blog for a shameless plug. (I know, you thought I had already done that.)

I’M LOOKING FOR A MANAGER.

So please, if you know one, invite them!!

And invite your friends…or your Casting Director friends…or your big time producer friends.

Or Sam Mendes.

You know…If he’s available.

Click here for tickets!

Holiday Cheer...and A Cookie or Two

I've discovered Lactaid - a drug that allows people whose bodies hate lactose (that's me) to eat dairy. And now, since I'm home visitng, it's allowed me to have a truly authentic Midwest expierence.

Would you like cream in your coffee?
YES PLEASE!

How about some cheesey potatoes?
I'LL HAVE EXTRA!

More butter on that lefse?
YES! AND SPREAD IT ON THICK!

As you can imagine, the scale has not been kind. But as always, I will return to Los Angeles in a few days and begin taking yoga, eating salds, and stressing out so much the uclers in my stomach won't let me eat.

But for now, bring on the cheese! And the SNOW!

If there is one thing I miss about living in the Midwest, it is defintetly the snow (and the people, and the seasons, and the trees, and the food, and the...oh, sorry...)

I think if you have lived in California all your life you don't realize how beautiful it can be. All you can imagine is cold, and storms, and ice, and frost bite. But when it snows like it did yesterday (and the day before that, and the day before that...) it is worth all that other stuff.

So, enough from me. What follows are some photos of home and, of course, the snow.

This may be one of the only times I've ever seen my brother read a newspaper. And I've posted it on the internet for all to see!

An ornament I made when I was in First Grade out of a toilet paper ring. Can't you just see the artistic ability starting at such a young age? I mean look at those eyelashes!!

The coat is hiding the 17 cookies I had eaten before attempting to make this snowman.


Look at that form! If there was a comepetion for synchronized snow angel making, my mom and I would have clearly taken home the gold.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!!!

Will The Real Jolly Santa Please Stand Up

A few days ago I was in The Beverly Center - a mall close to my apartment. I was enjoying the window displays, the holiday music, and drinking a peppermint mocha.

This is just like Christmas at home!

I thought as I tried to turn a blind eye to the woman holding a traumatized Chihuahua in a pink snow suit.

Yep, just like it!

As I walked by "Santa's Workshop" I started to get excited. I have always loved seeing the kids sitting on Santa's lap, they are so cute and full of joy! I slowed down and looked over. This is what I saw.



So kids, if you are planning a trip to the Beverly Center, mommy might want to break out the make-up.

That's right. Hunky Santa (and his Candy Cane Girls.)

Uff-Da.

Los Angeles, I have to ask. Can't you please, just for one day, be okay with being fat and jolly?

Apparently not.

I guess there's always Easter...

Hearing Voices

Tonight I was cleaning my kitchen and all of a sudden I heard my father’s voice coming from somewhere in my apartment.

I thought that I had officially lost my mind and the final step was to hear a member of your family speaking to you through the walls. I stood in the middle of my living room completely still. Was it coming from the TV? My computer? My phone?

MY MIND?!!!!

He just kept saying….

Jessica, Jessica, look at me honey!

And I just kept screaming….

DAD?!?! Dadddy?? I don’t know where to look! Where are you??

Jessica, hi honey! Hi!

Okay, Dad…I know my apartment is REALLY messy and I know you raised me to disinfect my toys whenever a friend comes over but I just haven’t had time!!

And just before I sacrificed a lamb and joined the man outside my building talking to a tree about the pros and cons of side-walk chalk, I realized the remote control had gotten stuck between the cushions of the couch and had turned on the DVD speakers but not the TV (the logical, not-on-the-verge-of-a-mental-breakdown, answer.)

I turned on the TV and saw my brother and I (age one and five) standing in the living room. I sat down and watched (slightly disappointed that my dad wasn’t actually here.)

My brother wandered around in only a flannel shirt and cowboy boots while I stole camera time whenever I could, demanding that Dad record my dancing, eating, talking, and just standing, then insisting that we watch it RIGHT NOW.

Where did that girl go?

Not the demanding, attention-hungry one in the princess dress (because she is definitely still here) but the girl who had the time to dance around in her living room. The girl who put on performance after performance at the drop of a hat, even when you didn’t ask for one (or begged that she not give you one.)

This week, that girl was INCREDIBLY busy. More busy than she’s been in a long while. The kind of busy where taking a shower becomes only something you do “if you have time.”

For those of you wondering, I had time twice this week.

And I know that lately I’ve been writing A LOT about being “so stressed” or “so busy” or “so crabby.” And I’m sure the seven people who read this are getting really annoyed.

But soon I will be home, dancing in my old living room again and trying to steal all the attention from my brother (damn his huge green eyes!!)

T-minus 10 days.

I will come home to snow. To my mom’s homemade cookies and my dad’s home videos. To my brother (who now wears pants) and to my old friends.

And that is definitely something that makes me want to dance in my living room.

Faking It

I finally got cast in something that I really love.

It’s a world premiere play. (And I get to play the lead.)

I don’t know how I can say that without sounding ridiculously pretentious. (Maybe it would help to know that every time I say it I am completely overcome by giggles because I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE IT and I feel like I pulled the wool over the eyes of everyone involved in casting!!)

The playwright’s name is Tiffany Antone and she is brilliant. The director’s name is Mary Jo DuPrey and she is brilliant.

The whole thing is brilliant.

The show is called "In the Company of Jane Doe" and it's a comedy about the life of an over-worked woman on the edge of a nervous breakdown who decides to take serious (and strange) measures.

And I am so thrilled! I had a great audition and an even better callback. I was pumped when the cast list came out and totally confident that I was going to have a great first read!

But as soon as I walked in to that theater and realized everyone knows everyone but me and that I have to read in front of all of these people, I didn’t feel quite so great.

I just stood alone in the rehearsal space as everyone around me hugged and smiled and reminisced about old shows. I stood and quietly tried not to smile too eagerly every time someone looked my way. Tried not to sweat pools on the outfit I had picked out that I hoped was “hip, but not like I’m trying too hard.”

I stood in the middle of that room, making an occasional joke to cover how uncomfortable I was (Thanks, Dad for passing on that trait.)

And as the read through began, I started to notice something that crippled me with even more anxiety.

Everyone was REALLY talented.

And that confident little actor inside me slowly started to die away as I said joke after joke with no laughter. And the harder I tried, the worse it became.

I glanced at the director and just KNEW that by her taking a sip of her coffee what she was really saying was “I HAVE MADE A HUGE MISTAKE CASTING THIS RIDICULOUS EXCUSE FOR AN ACTOR!!!”

But then I remembered something someone very wise said to me this week –

We are all just little kids. Being an adult just means you are better at faking it.

And at that point the kid inside me wanted her blankie!! And her daddy! And the pink teddy bear that her mom threw away when she was three because it had “the bronchitis germs” all over it.

I took a deep breath and faked my ass off.

I faked the second rehearsal too.

Besides, what is acting if not faking something you’re not. I mean, I’m not really ”an over-worked woman on the edge of nervous break-down,” right? Right? RIGHT??

Ahem.

And I’m sure I will continue faking it. Continue acting like my being terrible and nervous is just “part of my process.” That I’m just, “discovering the character” and “letting her organically develop.” Actor speak for “I have no idea what I am doing and need more time!!”

Faking it till I make it has always worked for me.

It worked my freshman year of college when all I wanted were friends and someone to tell me that an “A minus” did not mean I was going to fail at life.

I faked it when I moved to Ireland and just wanted the rain to stop and for the Irish to stop pointing out that I knew NOTHING about the world.

I faked it when I moved to Los Angeles and just wanted the sun to stop beating and for people to stop pointing out that I knew NOTHING about the movie industry.

And I’ll fake it through rehearsals until (like all the other cases) I realize one day that I’m not faking it anymore. That I actually am comfortable and confident and – dare I say it – funny.

And when that day comes, you should all come see the show.



“In the Company of Jane Doe” opens at the Powerhouse Theatre in Santa Monica on January 14 and runs until February 6.
It runs every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at 6:00 pm.