The Stench of Doubt

Shark Cove
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Currently watching the "Wrapped Around Your Finger" video on YouTube. The last time I went on a Police binge, I noticed that the video was directed by some mysterious persons named Godley & Creme. Godley & Creme are a British pop duo who also directed a few music videos in their time.

Following the internet bunny trail, I came across a story about the making of the "Wrapped Up Around Your Finger" video. To paraphrase (and if the story is to be believed), it seems as though Godley & Creme - and Sting - were interested in making art and seeing where it went, rather than making a hit music video. At the end of the 12 hour shoot, the producers decided they were done. Sting and the directors didn't want to be done, and after some discussion, the producers and directors agreed on one more take. If you've watched the video - which I hope you have, by now - you know that Sting runs through the burning candles and knocks them over and makes a big mess and it's beautiful and shocking and something I only wish I could do.

I can only imagine the tension on the set before a compromise was made. The producers need to keep the artists happy, the artists aren't happy, the crew has no say and therefore says nothing, but everyone's cringing and waiting for the explosion. I'm glad that the "Wrapped Around Your Finger" shoot resolved the way it did, but that one, tiny moment of doubt can derail the spirit of the entire shoot.

I can remember a few shoots I did where I wasn't getting the feedback my neurotic actor self wanted, and I started to doubt. Even though my intellectual mind said, "Dude, they cast YOU. Out of all the people they auditioned, they cast YOU. What are you freaking out for?" But freak out I did, and I felt like the world's biggest disaster, and so I might have been. All Doubt had to do was whisper the suggestion, "Um, you might not actually be good enough," and the train was off the track and screaming down into the canyon, bursting into flames as it hit bottom. Was it all in my mind? Probably.

After pitching a fit this week, it hit me that the source of all that angst was partly due to giving in to doubt. I doubted that my life would ever be any different than it is now. I doubted that I could make money doing what I liked. I doubted that my life has a purpose. A very wise friend, in trying to pull me out of that dark cloud, said, "When you change the way you look at things, what you look at changes." The world looked different today, and I thank everyone who's spoken encouragement into my life in the midst of my tantrums for that turnaround.

I know that I won't always feel bad. I know that I won't always feel buoyant. I might throw a few more tantrums. (This growing up thing is hard.) But I know that nothing will wreck me faster than doubt. If one is moving confidently toward a goal, there can't be any space left for doubt. People often put that as "There's no room for doubt," but I think there definitely can be. It's up to the individual to make sure they're so filled up with the Goal, all the corners and crevices stuffed, like, a Muffin Top of Goal squeezing between shirt and pants, that there is no space left for Doubt to drift in. Doubt is like a waft of unwelcome cigarette smoke in your apartment. You can't see it, you can't lay ahold of it, but you can smell it, and it's seeping into your stuff and irritating the crap out of you, and the only way to get rid of it is to stop it from coming in.

So, go get filled up with Goal. I'm off to do the same.

Bird of Paradise

Bird of Paradise
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

What a crazy flower. My first memory that has anything to do with this blossom is the singing flowers in the Tiki Room at Disneyland. The animatronic flowers had clacking beaks, just like the parrots.

I seem to be going into a dry spell. I sat down to write this afternoon and found there wasn't anything I wanted to write about. All I want to do is sleep and eat, and I don't crave anything that's good for me. Nope, it's Oreos and knock-off CheezIts all the way. The weather's been amazing this weekend, and I did get myself out of the house to enjoy it, but most of the time I just sat there watching people pass. So many cute dogs, so many children who've just learned to walk and always, in their zeal at upright forward motion, seem to be on the verge of taking a terrific header onto the pavement. So many delicious smells coming from dying blossoms I couldn't identify. So many bugs falling onto my shoulders and crawling down my shirt and landing in my hair. So much nature blowing into my nose and being forced back out with juicy sneezes.

I had a good time, but I didn't write a thing.

I suppose this counts, though.

Maybe the times when I don't have any desire to write are the best times to do so. I'm not so concerned about results, so I let my fingers wander where they will on the keyboard. I'll have to remember this feeling.

Bummer

Well, this stinks.

Seems Adia didn't do her research. Adia should have gotten herself 100% informed about what it meant to work on union projects. Adia was so consumed with knowing SAG and AEA rules that she neglected to read the fine print on AFTRA.

Adia is in "must join" status.

What does that mean? It means I have to give AFTRA $1300 and some change before I can work on an AFTRA project again. It means that I can't even do non-union AFTRA extra work. It means I screwed myself.

Always read the fine print, kidlings.

Coliseum in the Sun

Coliseum in the Sun
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Hey! I'm back.

Sorry. I've been sniffling, sneezing, moaning and moping about the house for the last few days; when I wasn't shooting a music video or workshopping or catering, that is.

SO. I watched the episode of Life On Mars for which I was an extra. I am there, I am visible. It was cool to know that thousands of people had watched that episode. Granted, no one was looking at me in the background, but it was still cool.

I have a confession to make, though. There was an additional scene that involved all the BLA members sans me. That was, um, hard to watch. It was cool to see all the people I'd hung out with for two days, but I couldn't help wondering I had done something wrong in that I wasn't invited back for another day of work. Had I not behaved myself? Did I totally suck? Was I pulling focus? What did I do?

And in the end, I'll never know. There's no reason for me to beat myself up over it. No actor mind taffy!

Speaking of acting, things may, um, be changing for me. I may or may not have a full-time job come, oh, tomorrow. Which means that acting would be relegated to evenings and weekends. That's how I started in Minnesota. Not a bad way to start over here. But, once again, nothing is set in stone. I'll keep ya posted.

UPDATE: Yeah, no full-time job. I had it, and then I let it go. I kind of convulse into a laughing fit whenever I think about it. Mostly because turning it down makes no sense. But then again, chasing a dream never makes sense looking forward. Looking backward, though:

As we look back and survey the terrain to determine where we've been and where we are in relationship to where we're going, we clearly see that we could not have gotten where we are without coming the way we came. There aren't any other roads; there aren't any shortcuts. There's no way to parachute into this terrain.

-The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

Clearing

I just murdered a whole bunch of credits on my acting resume. Bonnie Gillespie, L.A. casting director, told me that I need to get rid of them, and therefore, away they go. I'm sad, but it's confirmation of what I've been struggling with for the past 11 months: I really have started over, and everything I did before doesn't count here.

I don't mean that my experience on set or on a stage, or the classes I've taken, or the people I met before New York don't matter. They do, immensely. They've shaped me and encouraged me and challenged me and prepared me to be resilient in the face of New York elitism.

However, no one cares what I did in Minneapolis. They want to know if I've done anything in New York that matters (i.e. NOT background work, as exciting and affirming as it was), and until I have, they'll let me know, in no uncertain terms, that I don't matter.

I don't believe them, but I'm willing to play by their rules - for a while - to get what I came here to get: a viable acting career. And until I make the decision to stop, nothing can make me.

Silkworm Cocoons

Silkworm Cocoons
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Catering a lot. That's good!
It makes me lazy in my off time. That's bad.
Doing more background (extra) work today. That's good!
No work tomorrow. That's bad.
Anxious to get my demo reel cut together. That's good!
Can't get the video ripping software to work. That's bad.
Generally a whole lot more cheerful these days. That's good!
The weather's supposed to be in the upper 70s today. That's...not so bad, actually.

NaNoWriMo starts in, like, three weeks. I have no idea what I'm writing about, but I'm DOING IT. I keep trying to coerce people to do it with me. "Come on, don't you want to go nuts for a month? No, there are no official prizes. Isn't self-satisfaction after abject suffering enough for you?"

Heh.

Mykonos

Mykonos
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Goodness. What a weekend.

So, to recap:

- 12-hour catering shift in Westchester, broken down bus, home at 4:30am
- keys lost, locked out until Monday afternoon, wandered around Manhattan from 4:30 until 9:00 am on Sunday, called a locksmith, couldn't cough up $240, checked into a hotel
- 5 am call for catering on Monday morning
- interview this morning with a really great company, torn about what to do next if offered the job

Catering again tonight. Fortunately for me, it's in Brooklyn, about three stops away on the subway.

I have some decisions to make, and many tasks to do, but all I want to do is sleep. The chaos of the weekend really messed up my routine, and I feel like I need a day to get back on track. I'm not going to get one, though.

Stolen

Stolen
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

They're never giving these puppies back.

Waiting for the building maintenance man to come so that he can light the oven's pilot light. It's been out for a few months, and I didn't think anything of it. My father took a different tack. He mentioned the "constant trickle of gas" and "places blowing up", and that got me moving. These are things I knew, but didn't think too deeply about until I realized that I'll soon be closing my windows. A + B = C. So I talked to the management office yesterday. Hopefully this dude actually comes. They don't have the best record when it comes to that stuff.

Audition this evening for a one-act. It'd be nice to get it. I'm not being facetious to hide my excitement or anything. It takes a lot of energy to exist here, and it takes a lot of energy to get excited about things, especially things that 90% of the time do not go the way you'd like them to go, so I'm choosing my battles. It'd be nice, but I'm not counting on anything.

I stumbled on The Simple Woman's blog and magazine and I think I'm in love. Despite my dry humor, I'm a romantic. A cynical romantic, if you will, if I may. I used my fountain pen and leather journal to complete a "Daybook" entry, and I could feel all the churny bits inside settling into a nice, lazy pattern of movement. I smiled and danced to my iTunes playlist. I used my fountain pen for the first time in months! When I leave this city, I'm finding myself a farmhouse.

Biceps are sore from catering last night. The event was at one of the catering co's exclusive spots: Jazz at Lincoln Center. Sanit, the area where we drop dirty things, was on the 6th floor. The place where the people got rid of their dirty things was on the 5th floor. We aren't allowed to use the elevators. Stairs ahoy! My butt hurts.

Perfection

Perfection
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I have a gorgeous friend.

She's also kind and generous. She came with me to the premiere last night and, as promised, held my hand as it started so I could calm down.

So, the premiere. I chose not to think about it all day. It was obvious, though, as I rushed around getting ready, snapping at my mother, that I was most definitely thinking about it. I was so nervous and I didn't want to be nervous and I was trying not to let it show but I'm sure my mother could tell and being the patient saint that she is just quietly went about her preparations and let me be messy without yelling back and then we got to the theatre and I had some wine. Whew. I needed that.

A few trailers and short films rolled before FADE, and then it started. Cori reached across my lap and gave my hand a squeeze. My heart was thudding in my chest, shaking my rib cage.

And it was good. It was really good. I relaxed. I watched myself without self-conscious judgment. I was able to enjoy the film and marvel at what Chris had created. I remembered rolling around in the weeds and getting bitten on the butt by horseflies and waiting for the sun and Scott just about dying having to wear the gas mask and how cold the water in the river was and how glorious the whole experience had been.

And then it was over, and Chris got lots of applause, and I could breathe again. I chatted with other cast members and casual viewers. Everyone was so generous and kind with their praise. I was humbled.

So thanks, Chris, for letting me be a part of your film. It's a lovely piece, and I'm proud of you.

Unfinished

Cahier sketch
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

But how much is anything ever truly "finished"? One just decides to stop and move on to the next project. I decided to stop sketching and move on to the next project.

Which happens to be freaking out; the next project, that is. For FADE, the film I did two years ago, is having a premiere, two years later.

What: FADE
When: Friday, June 20th, 7:00pm
Where: Suburban World Theater, Uptown, Minneapolis


I'll admit it: I'm terrified. I haven't seen the film yet, so I have no idea what my performance is like. And that terrifies me.

I'm a control freak. I really am. I'm a Type A Control Freak. I like to have my hands on the reins/dials/levers/steering wheel and I don't want anyone else touching them. I won't throw open the shutters or pull all the stops or leave the cylinders wide open unless I know it's perfectly safe to do so. (This tendency sometimes makes me a bad actor.) This is absurd, of course, because I have absolutely no control over what other people are thinking or doing and my rational mind knows this, but I still prefer to live in the illusion that I AM IN CONTROL.

This premiere? Totally outside my control. I have to sit there, in the dark, with other people watching my performance and judging it, silently or vocally. I will have to sit there and take it and be ok with it and this is terrifying.

But it's a good lesson. It's an opportunity to practice doing something that scares me. I just might need someone to hold my hand while I do it.

Care, but don't care.

Wanting something too much seems to seal the fact that you will not get it.

I had an audition on Thursday for a show I really wanted to be a part of. Cool staging, small cast, recommendation from a friend, based on real people...all good things. And I had two weeks from the time the audition was scheduled to the actual audition. I think this was a death sentence for me. Too much time to think about it, to obsess over it, to look forward to it.

The Big Day (or so I'd labeled it in my mind) came, and I choked. It wasn't a terrible audition, but it wasn't my best. I flubbed the lines, and my song was shaky, and I screwed up the choreography. Now, who knows whether any of that had anything to do with my not getting a callback, but I didn't present my best self - the me that is calm, collected, confident, and doesn't care too much - in the room, so the factors that I can control were not operating at peak efficiency. Friday came and went with no phone call inviting me to callbacks on Saturday. Needless to say, it bummed me out.

I've had dozens of auditions in the last few weeks, but because this one mattered so much more, the rejection knocked me on my butt. The column I read on Actors Access talked about this very thing just this past Monday, and here I am as a living illustration of what NOT to do. It almost seems like a catch-22: you audition for the things you're interested in, but you can't show your desire to be a part of the project or it'll sabotage you. But like anything else in this career, it's a skill to be learned and honed. And like so many other things in this career, totally illogical. Care, but don't care.

So, the moral is: get back on the horse; the stupid, wild, unpredictable, ornery horse. I fell off, my butt is bruised, but I'm getting back on. And if sheer obstinacy is all that keeps me going, so be it.

Happy New Year.

I am (mostly) settled in my new place, and for the first time since I got here, I feel like I can exhale. I'd been living out of my suitcases for the past month, and never feeling like I could settle in. I think I can here. I get along really well with the lease-holder of the apartment: she's pretty cool. The apartment itself is huge, as is my room. I vacuumed today and had visions of the apartment, remodeled. I could see the floors torn up and then leveled - especially the linoleum in the kitchen. Sanding the molding around the doors and windows to get the gobs of paint off, slate tile in the bathroom and kitchen, and sanded, painted walls. It'd be a real showplace at the end. But because the building is rent stabilized, the owner's never going to put that much work into it.

So. It's a new year, and I'm not ready to give up on New York yet. I'm giving myself a year.


(I still feel - every day - so homesick it hurts, but that just means that I'll have to visit home often.

Steve Perry tells me to be good to myself. I shall listen.

This entry is brought to you by the band Journey, who gave me the strength to actually approach my blog and type something.

I've been avoiding you. Yes, I have. I'm sure you can tell. I haven't written since a week into my New York sojourn. I've been avoiding you because I've felt like there isn't much to say. Or rather, what there is to say is negative, so I didn't want to say it.

New York is hard. It's really hard, and at the same time it doesn't feel any different than Minnesota. New York is hard because I work all the time. Like, seriously. All the time. Some days that makes me really angry, some days I think, "Well, it's money." New York is hard because you're constantly confronted with people who have money to burn, bury, or bathe in (especially in the area of town in which I work), and you're barely scraping by. New York is just like Minnesota in that I go to work, I come home, and I watch television and snack for four hours before I go to sleep - that is, if I actually have four hours before I go to sleep as opposed to falling into bed at 2 in the morning after work. New York is just like Minnesota in that I'm not really auditioning at all.

Which brings me to the next bit of information that I'm not sure what to do with. It's sitting there, like a lump of unknown foodstuffs. I keep poking it experimentally, but I don't want to pick it up because then I'd actually have to do something with it. Or drop it again. I'm not sure I want to leave it alone, but I definitely don't want to pick it up. And what I mean by that incredibly long metaphor is that I'm tired of the hustle that is being an actor. I know, I know, I've said I've contemplated quitting it all before. But please don't discount this time or those as mere threats: my feelings are real, whatever they are at the moment I'm expressing them.

So, yeah. Acting. Not sure how I feel about it. See, there are these Actor's Equity audition calls called "Equity Prinicpal Auditions," or EPAs. Producers who have contracts with Equity must hold EPAs. For the most part, the casting directors and director know who they want for the roles, or have a fairly good idea of the pool they wish to pull from. So EPAs are like bobbing for apples. Maybe you'll get lucky and make contact with the right apple at the right time and your teeth will be sharp enough and quick enough to grab it, but most of the time you'll just come up sopping wet, unhappy, and empty-handed.

EPAs are exciting to some people: they love sitting in a crowded room for hours (if they're not union and can't get an audition slot) waiting for the possibility of a chance to audition. This scenario is not for me. I honestly think I'm too old. For example, I went to a non-singing EPA on Tuesday. I woke up late and knew that I wouldn't get my first choice as far as audition slots, but I was ok with that. I figured, "Oh well. So I'll have to sit there for a while. Or come back between shifts at work. No big deal." I walked down the hallway lined with young hopefuls, and around another corner lined with young hopefuls and into the holding room to hear the girl in front of me being told by the audition monitor that they're already on alternates. All the slots are full all day. My turn came. I considered placing myself on the alternates list, but then I thought, "You know, I'm not going to come back up here just to see if maybe I'll get to be seen. So not worth it." So I said, "Thanks, but no, thanks," and I left.

As I walked out of the building, I laughed to myself. I had the thought, "I don't think this is for me." Which could mean that hustling for acting jobs, period, is not for me. Or it could mean that I need to find another way to be around the performance world. And I think it's the latter. EPAs are well and good, but I'm beyond expending that much effort for such slim odds (and pickings). The funny thing is that I had to come to New York to realize that.

New York is hard, but I'm not ready to give up yet. I have an apartment share starting in January and a new direction (even though I'm not sure what that direction is).

In other news, how much do I love Journey? Go watch the "Separate Ways" video. It'll make you laugh, and yet you will be intrigued by the ease and grace with which Steve Perry hits those high notes. Then go watch the concert version of "Don't Stop Believing". Journey rocks.

My folks gave me an iPod Shuffle. They rock.

In 36 hours I leave for New York City. Hopefully the move is permanent, and barring catastrophe, it will be.

Of course, when I say "permanent," I mean at least two years. I'm not the youngin' I once was, so I'm not sure how long I'll be able to stand the pace of NYC life. Nonetheless, I want to give living there a real shot. Who knows: I may fall in love with the city and die in my tiny apartment with cats crawling all over and nibbling on my dead body.

So...how do I feel? People have been asking me that a lot lately. That and "You must be so excited!!!" I am excited, but I really don't know how I feel. It doesn't seem real that I'll be living so far from my folks, that I won't be able to see my beautiful friends whenever our schedules collide. It doesn't seem real that when I come back to visit, the Twin Cities will have moved on without me and there will be buildings and bridges that I don't recognize. It doesn't seem real that I have to look for a job yet again (and that's not a good sign: finding a job is priority number one).

I can't wrap my head around the permanence of this move. Which might mean that I'm living in the moment - which is good - and at the moment I'm in Minnesota. It might mean that I have no sense of the massive amount of hard work that lies in front of me. I really don't know anything.

That's what scares me. That I really don't know anything. I'm excited, and somewhere deep inside, in a place that I'm not letting show to the world at large, I'm terrified. Sure it's exciting to jump without a net. You certainly hope that the net will appear or that the ground is made of marshmallows. Nonetheless there's still a chance that you'll land on rock hard ground like Wile E. Coyote and flatten out like a pancake. Who really knows what's down there?

In spite of my fear, I'm still going. And for that I give myself a little pat on the back. Adventures build character, right? Right?

Good Auditions

Good Auditions make you feel special.
Good Auditions make you feel like the best actor in the world.
Good Auditions make you feel like the best person in the world.
Good Auditions make you want to skip and dance while pumping gas at the Holiday.
Good Auditions give you hope.
Good Auditions give you energy.
Good Auditions inspire you.
Good Auditions remind you why you do this stupid career in the first place.
Good Auditions enable you to keep going.
Good Auditions remind you how talented Minneapolis is.
Good Auditions validate you (sadly).
Good Auditions make you feel sexy.
Good Auditions make you feel smart.
Good Auditions make you love everyone you see.
Good Auditions brighten the world.
Good Auditions are like really good drugs.
Good Auditions make the surliness of the Dunn Bros employees seem trivial.
Good Auditions help you get back to your novel, even if you only write 200 words.
Good Auditions are...good.

Who cares if I got the job if I had a good audition?! I do.