They Look Like Such Strong Hands, Don't They?

They Look Like Such Strong Hands, Don't They?
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I think this photo is going to become one of my favorites. I love it. And don't ask my how I got it. It'll ruin the magic for you.

I had written some blather about feeling such and such a way and introspection and happiness and blah blah blah and then I deleted it because I was doing exactly what I said I shouldn't be doing. At least not here.

So...uh...go look at some funny cat pictures. Yeah. Go do that. No funny here today.

My week, stream-of-consciousness style

"So that's Bryant Park. What's up, Fashion Week? Why do so many people spit here? That's nasty, dude. I really don't want to hear you horking up the contents of your throat and sinuses. This looks like an expensive part of town. Oh, hey, I've called that hotel and they've called us, too. Nifty. I should go in and say hi. NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY OMG. Who cares about Jack Kerouac: look at the design on that ceiling! No, I do not want to give money to the homeless. Yes, I'm a cold, cold woman who doesn't have any money, either. I like this song. Man, I do NOT want to go back to work. Hey, it's not so bad here at work. I think they missed me. Heh. Was that Bob Costas? That was Bob Costas. Man, he is tiny! Like, REALLY tiny. So Ebony will be here, eh? Which one, I wonder? Please be kind to me, temp agency. I need a job. AUDITIONING EVERY DAY THIS WEEK OMG. I feel like a real actor! This new apartment is sweet. Hopefully I'll get to stay. Man, he's cute. I doubt he'll ask me out, though. I despise working on the floor. Singing audition = HATE. Those Equity monitors are great folks. I should bring them cookies. Strict diet rules have definitely flown out the window at a rapid velocity: mmmmmm...fish and chips! Oh, hello there white bread! You are crusty and soft and tasty! What's that, cranberry oatmeal scone with melted sugar on top? You'd like me to eat you like it's my job? I believe I am qualified for that task. Midtown = HATE. Free Broadway tix? Is that where my $454 worth of dues went? Sweet! I'll take it. Hey! Hire me! I am sooooo smart and talented and you won't regret it I promise! How is it that you can, in good conscience, pay an adult person a wage that does not allow them to actually live? Winter must die. Thank you for lunch and presents, Father-of-mine! I love my red tights. These dancer chicks are seriously skinny. She's wearing those hotpants-style dance shorts and NOTHING is jiggling. She sucks. And she's 12. Aisha's coming! All I want to do is eat. What's that, 100% cacao Ghirardelli chocolate bar dipped in honey? You were made for my consumption and mine alone? Why, thank you! That building is GORGEOUS. I wish I could live there. No more 1 trains? UGH. FINE. I'll walk to 72nd. But I'm just letting you know now that you SUCK, MTA. Just kidding. You're really awesome, actually. You keep this city from falling apart at the seams. These shoes were a mistake. Saturday already? Rockin'. Today I do nothing productive. Zzzzzzz..."

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.