There will be women there, and I don't want any of them to be uncomfortable. I mean, there will be drinking so there's no telling what could happen.
-A client
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Warning: Some Sketch comedy scenes could incite an orgy
-A client
Lessons in love from this idiot here.
OR, you could say "Yeah, speaking of alleys..." then say something witty about your vagina.
-How to respond to an email sent by someone you think should ask you out
Monday, July 25, 2011
Year of Myself
I am a shy person;I always have been. As a kid I was terrified to speak out of turn or draw attention to myself in a bold way. There is a part of me that is still a bit fearful of that today. I'm also an only child. When I discovered theater it was a way for me to feel like I was part of the group. I tried everything from musicals to improv. As long as I was serving a team, I was happy.
Some time last year, those feelings changed. The desire to work with "reputable" companies within the city and have Chris Jones remember your name fondly was palpable...for most. It wasn't for me. I auditioned for some shows and theaters because I thought it was what I "have to do in order to make it." Then I realized that I don't know what it means to "make it", I think auditions are more awkward than shitting your pants on a first date, and my desire in life is to be creatively fulfilled, not necessarily a working actor. And with that, I decided to write my own shit and be a solo performer.
Just like when I started out in theater, I was scared out of my mind. The shy and awkward only child's place is not the stage, and the idea of standing alone on that stage sent me into hysterics regularly. However, the only child does have a sense of independence and, if you want something done right, you force yourself to do it even if it makes you so fearful you feel as if you are on the verge of upchucking all hours of the day and night. What will you learn in the process? Let's find out, shall we.
I started out my Year of Myself by writing a one-woman show. I didn't know if it would be produced or not. I wasn't even certain that people would like it, but I shared it with a select few then moved on to my next conquest- stand up comedy. Standing up with a microphone was a breeze, and I didn't die. As a matter of fact, I finally knew what it was like to speak to a group of people and not have them interrupt me with much funnier and wittier bits than my own. Once stand up was put down for a nap, my one-woman show was produced. I got to perform my own words for six weeks, and no one said they hated it. After all that madness, I decided to try storytelling and, once again, not a single one of the "cool kids" who came out to listen thought it was terrible. That is to say no one was man enough to hate me to my face in the past few months and, therefore, I consider them my adoring public. I had an invigorating year and, as always, putting myself in situations I fear most proved to be the best thing for me.
Why am I writing this? Because I hope it will go viral and spawn my blogging career? No, but it you want to share this, you have my blessing. Basically, I just want my artistic friends to know how important it is to not follow these guidelines and rules set up in our industry which is, come on, folks, centered around make believe anyway, to the letter. You can do absolutely anything if your goal is to simply do that thing, and it will be satisfying. In art, as long one tries, one cannot fail. In addition to that, even if you do attempt to step up onto that stage all by your lonesome, you are not by yourself. It took an army of fabulous friends to act as my emotional support, my audience, my directors and producers in order to make my year what it was--a success in my eyes.
The main purpose of this entry, however, should be-- personal, emotional upkeep and motivator. I need this positive recollection of the year's events because, when I am scared to do something in the future, all I have to do is go back and read this. It probably won't make me any more or less brave to do the thing, but at least I'll know I survived to write this. And I will survive again.
There you have it, people. I took a year-long absence from that comfortable little spot behind my tree, and I stand before you...pretty much the same person I was before, only with more assurance. I am shy at times. (But I'm not standoffish because I'm bitchy. We just need to set that record straight once and for now, if not for all. Introverts happen, and you're going to have to deal with it. We can't all be the life of the party. Some of us just need to attend.) I am loud at times. I may do some things on stage that fail and some things that others consider brilliant. I will have more misses than hits, but at least I know now I have the ability to stand on my own two feet regardless of the outcome. I am no longer crippled by fear of creating alone, and it is pretty awesome. This is probably what it feels like to be asexual...
Monday, July 18, 2011
Love letter
Last week, in a moment of emotional distress and dramatic fanaticism, I expressed my adoration for a particular series of books and movies in the form of a love letter. It was posted on SpunkyBean.com. It is over-the-top, but I am damn proud of what I expressed. Also, I'm dead serious. I loved the hell out of this saga.
Dear Harry,
I was twenty-one years old when my best friend introduced me to you and your companions. In other words, I was way too old to be getting involved with a boy wizard, yet she and I both indulged in your story. At first, I thought it was the silliest damn thing my friend had ever suggested, and we were both silly enough as it was. How in the hell did she expect me to pick up a series of books that my pre-teen cousin deemed quality reading material? Magic and wizards? Was this a joke? Nevertheless, worried that I may destroy some bond of nerdy sisterhood, I gave into her demands.
Okay, so it was a mild suggestion. Some say I’m dramatic. Those people also say I’m obsessive. I prefer “passionate,” and it didn’t take long for me to pour that passion into reveling in your world. I was immersed and finally capable of appreciating what everyone was raving about nonstop.
Reading about your adventures was exhilarating. My heart raced, I was nervous, my stomach was in knots. You know how it is…when you’re falling in love. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic love, though you did occupy quite a bit of my free time. Between speculating as to what would happen in the next book to fawning over the spot-on casting for each movie, you became “my everything” in a way. I felt at home with familiar characters and enraged when their well-being was threatened. I cheered when there were triumphs and cried over deaths as if I’d lost members of my own family. And I think it’s safe to say that I latched onto a pop culture trend because there was depth and weight to it. Behind the lighthearted, kiddie facade of spells and wands and a school of adorable British children learning to be witches and wizards, there was heart and there were brains. You weren’t just another pretty face. I think anyone who has ever been crippled by the death of a loved one can relate to the tale of “The Boy Who Lived.” I know for a fact that great personal loss was what led me to you. It’s the crux of your entire story and the reason you came to be. It is also, unfortunately, a topic with which I was a bit too familiar to be so young at the time. And, as it is an unfortunate part of life, knowledge of and familiarity with those particular feelings only grow stronger. It is an event that we all will, undoubtedly, experience again and again, and it is dealt with so beautifully on page after page, in scene after scene of the Harry Potter series. How could I not be mystified?
But this is about those movies. Yes, there were movies- Sorcerer’s Stone and Chamber of Secrets. Not to discredit Chris Columbus for his tireless efforts. He built the legs on which this franchise now stands, and there is no denying how brilliant he was at visualizing and depicting the Potterverse. It wasn’t until Azkaban, however, that we were able to use to word “film” to refer to these on-screen representations. That was when I began anticipating the film releases as much as the book publishing dates. Another way to relish the journey! Soon the pictures in my head became synonymous with the cast Chris Columbus had assembled. I should send personal thank you letters to each crew and cast member for handling that precious material so delicately and loving it as much as any rabid fan. I should send fruit baskets (or some shit) to the force that is Maggie Smith, the incomparable Alan Rickman, the lovable Michael Gambon and the late (and perfect) Richard Harris, each and every actor with red hair in the series (dyed or natural), the charming cast of characters who portray Harry’s classmates, and even those fortunate enough to land roles as some of the most hated villains in the series. They are immensely talented, and it’s sickening in the best way. Thank you, Emma Watson, for being intelligent and likable. Thank you, Rupert Grint for just about everything you do. And thank you, Daniel Radcliffe, for becoming a surprisingly talented actor, a seemingly well-rounded human being, and adorably short-an unlikely hero. I’ll bet it was strange having the world watch you grow up, but you all did so with unbelievable grace. And, it’s odd, I feel proud of you in some strange way, as if you’re my younger siblings and I’ve watched you make your way in the world. I have no room or time to mention everyone and they won’t read this anyway, but please know how much I appreciate Gary Oldman and just about anyone else who appeared only a handful of times in the series.
Like any good love story I was reluctant to begin and now, here we are. Over the course of this wild and crazy decade, we’ve built a strong foundation. Seven books spawning ten years of movie making history and it all comes to a close this summer. The phenomenon has been nothing short of fascinating to watch. Those of us who “have stuck with Harry until the very end” will have seen all there is to see. Personally, I know that all good things must end eventually, but I am sad to let you go. I have so many memories tied to you; I’ve bonded with numerous people just by talking about you. You are, without question, one of the quickest and most absolute ways into my heart. All a person has to do is mention your name (with affection), and I’ll cling to them. Potter fandom is its own permanent stick charm, the secret to many friendships. Some have loved you longer, but I am more than willing to share. I may be putting you to rest, old friend, but I will not say goodbye. Farewells are a messy business. And besides, “the ones that love us, never really leave us.” It’s cheesy as hell, but the sentiment here is pretty legitimate. Damn, I hate to see you go.
Sincerely,
A loyal fan and friend
P.S. Read any good books lately? Seriously, I need to occupy the rest of my days…
Dear Harry,
I was twenty-one years old when my best friend introduced me to you and your companions. In other words, I was way too old to be getting involved with a boy wizard, yet she and I both indulged in your story. At first, I thought it was the silliest damn thing my friend had ever suggested, and we were both silly enough as it was. How in the hell did she expect me to pick up a series of books that my pre-teen cousin deemed quality reading material? Magic and wizards? Was this a joke? Nevertheless, worried that I may destroy some bond of nerdy sisterhood, I gave into her demands.
Okay, so it was a mild suggestion. Some say I’m dramatic. Those people also say I’m obsessive. I prefer “passionate,” and it didn’t take long for me to pour that passion into reveling in your world. I was immersed and finally capable of appreciating what everyone was raving about nonstop.
Reading about your adventures was exhilarating. My heart raced, I was nervous, my stomach was in knots. You know how it is…when you’re falling in love. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic love, though you did occupy quite a bit of my free time. Between speculating as to what would happen in the next book to fawning over the spot-on casting for each movie, you became “my everything” in a way. I felt at home with familiar characters and enraged when their well-being was threatened. I cheered when there were triumphs and cried over deaths as if I’d lost members of my own family. And I think it’s safe to say that I latched onto a pop culture trend because there was depth and weight to it. Behind the lighthearted, kiddie facade of spells and wands and a school of adorable British children learning to be witches and wizards, there was heart and there were brains. You weren’t just another pretty face. I think anyone who has ever been crippled by the death of a loved one can relate to the tale of “The Boy Who Lived.” I know for a fact that great personal loss was what led me to you. It’s the crux of your entire story and the reason you came to be. It is also, unfortunately, a topic with which I was a bit too familiar to be so young at the time. And, as it is an unfortunate part of life, knowledge of and familiarity with those particular feelings only grow stronger. It is an event that we all will, undoubtedly, experience again and again, and it is dealt with so beautifully on page after page, in scene after scene of the Harry Potter series. How could I not be mystified?
But this is about those movies. Yes, there were movies- Sorcerer’s Stone and Chamber of Secrets. Not to discredit Chris Columbus for his tireless efforts. He built the legs on which this franchise now stands, and there is no denying how brilliant he was at visualizing and depicting the Potterverse. It wasn’t until Azkaban, however, that we were able to use to word “film” to refer to these on-screen representations. That was when I began anticipating the film releases as much as the book publishing dates. Another way to relish the journey! Soon the pictures in my head became synonymous with the cast Chris Columbus had assembled. I should send personal thank you letters to each crew and cast member for handling that precious material so delicately and loving it as much as any rabid fan. I should send fruit baskets (or some shit) to the force that is Maggie Smith, the incomparable Alan Rickman, the lovable Michael Gambon and the late (and perfect) Richard Harris, each and every actor with red hair in the series (dyed or natural), the charming cast of characters who portray Harry’s classmates, and even those fortunate enough to land roles as some of the most hated villains in the series. They are immensely talented, and it’s sickening in the best way. Thank you, Emma Watson, for being intelligent and likable. Thank you, Rupert Grint for just about everything you do. And thank you, Daniel Radcliffe, for becoming a surprisingly talented actor, a seemingly well-rounded human being, and adorably short-an unlikely hero. I’ll bet it was strange having the world watch you grow up, but you all did so with unbelievable grace. And, it’s odd, I feel proud of you in some strange way, as if you’re my younger siblings and I’ve watched you make your way in the world. I have no room or time to mention everyone and they won’t read this anyway, but please know how much I appreciate Gary Oldman and just about anyone else who appeared only a handful of times in the series.
Like any good love story I was reluctant to begin and now, here we are. Over the course of this wild and crazy decade, we’ve built a strong foundation. Seven books spawning ten years of movie making history and it all comes to a close this summer. The phenomenon has been nothing short of fascinating to watch. Those of us who “have stuck with Harry until the very end” will have seen all there is to see. Personally, I know that all good things must end eventually, but I am sad to let you go. I have so many memories tied to you; I’ve bonded with numerous people just by talking about you. You are, without question, one of the quickest and most absolute ways into my heart. All a person has to do is mention your name (with affection), and I’ll cling to them. Potter fandom is its own permanent stick charm, the secret to many friendships. Some have loved you longer, but I am more than willing to share. I may be putting you to rest, old friend, but I will not say goodbye. Farewells are a messy business. And besides, “the ones that love us, never really leave us.” It’s cheesy as hell, but the sentiment here is pretty legitimate. Damn, I hate to see you go.
Sincerely,
A loyal fan and friend
P.S. Read any good books lately? Seriously, I need to occupy the rest of my days…
Friday, July 1, 2011
Sometimes, you can't say enough good things
Last September I sat down to write a show about a job that I had outgrown. Tonight, I closed that show after a very successful six-week run. I am blown away by what Paul Whitehouse and I were able to achieve as artists. I am floored by the encouragement I've received over the past eight months. In that time I have feared failure, having to cancel shows due to low house counts, negative feedback, and a weekly train wreck due to my very tech-heavy half of the production. I got none of that.
What may have seemed like a very modest response to some felt monumental to me. 'Sucked Into Service', as a whole, exceeded my expectations by leaps and bounds. Thank you to every one who attended when they could, those who shared kind words, and those who worked harder than they probably should have for such a little show. I don't have enough love in my heart, words in my vocabulary, or money in my bank account to thank the following people: Sarah Rose Graber, Paul Whitehouse, Lina Bunte, Sarah Borer, Jerrod Howe, Mark Beers, Dan Wagner, John McCloskey, Kimberly Hickman, Troy Heard, and Dan Granata. If you weren't working on the show, you were listening to me worry about it. Thank you. (Wags and McCloskey, thank you for the props I used. Oh! And while I'm at it, Eric Roach, thank you for that rolling chair!) "Trapped in a Box" itself may come back, but it will probably never be produced in this way again. It was a beast at times and, if ever remounted, there is no way it will be the same. Watching something I've created grow and change and morph into something surprisingly different can be easily equated to watching your own child develop. I guess. I don't know, really. I've never had a kid, but that's how people talk about it, and I am beyond proud of my baby. That's the beauty of this whole damn thing. Congratulations to Paul for his show, '1/2 Caf Chronicles' as well. Paul, I hope you are proud. It was an honor to work with you on this.
For a formerly shy child who still appears very standoffish and tends to "hide behind her tree", this goes beyond anything I ever thought I could accomplish. My family can't even believe I did it. Not only did I survive, I had fun! Thank you for helping me realize a tiny dream.
Night, night! I love you so much, it's gross. Hey, look! A kitty...
What may have seemed like a very modest response to some felt monumental to me. 'Sucked Into Service', as a whole, exceeded my expectations by leaps and bounds. Thank you to every one who attended when they could, those who shared kind words, and those who worked harder than they probably should have for such a little show. I don't have enough love in my heart, words in my vocabulary, or money in my bank account to thank the following people: Sarah Rose Graber, Paul Whitehouse, Lina Bunte, Sarah Borer, Jerrod Howe, Mark Beers, Dan Wagner, John McCloskey, Kimberly Hickman, Troy Heard, and Dan Granata. If you weren't working on the show, you were listening to me worry about it. Thank you. (Wags and McCloskey, thank you for the props I used. Oh! And while I'm at it, Eric Roach, thank you for that rolling chair!) "Trapped in a Box" itself may come back, but it will probably never be produced in this way again. It was a beast at times and, if ever remounted, there is no way it will be the same. Watching something I've created grow and change and morph into something surprisingly different can be easily equated to watching your own child develop. I guess. I don't know, really. I've never had a kid, but that's how people talk about it, and I am beyond proud of my baby. That's the beauty of this whole damn thing. Congratulations to Paul for his show, '1/2 Caf Chronicles' as well. Paul, I hope you are proud. It was an honor to work with you on this.
For a formerly shy child who still appears very standoffish and tends to "hide behind her tree", this goes beyond anything I ever thought I could accomplish. My family can't even believe I did it. Not only did I survive, I had fun! Thank you for helping me realize a tiny dream.
Night, night! I love you so much, it's gross. Hey, look! A kitty...
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