Food for thought #2

"I hated every minute of training, but I said, 'Don't quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.'" - Muhammad Ali

Allergic to the world

A couple weeks ago, when I woke up with my eyes swollen shut, it began a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, acupuncture, and allergist visits. It has now been determined that I am allergic to....(drumroll please)....the environment. The allergist actually laughed and said, "Hey, you could do the sequel and be "The Girl in the Bubble." Thanks Doc.

It's so dramatic, it's laughable. Trees, pollen, grass...may as well throw air and water in there while you're at it. It's just ridiculous. So after talking it over with my allergist, we decided I would start a series of vaccinations in a couple weeks as a preventative measure so i don't wake up one morning to shoot something and look like a little mongrel. I have to admit, I didn't take it that seriously (since it had only been one flare up in 20 something years).

That is, until today.

After reading for producers this morning, and seeing the likes of Bijou Phillips, Minka Kelly, and (the enviably funny, talented, awesome) Leslie Bibb, while there, I felt my eyes tearing. Not tears of sadness over Leslie Bibb's 99 percent chance of getting this role (because hey...you never know! and they're still making her audition). But rather because the allergist is right; I am allergic to the whole freakin world. Or maybe just to auditions.

I was an itchy, scratchy, watery mess of an actress. I improv'd my way through the audition, made some fans ("how have we never met you?" "terrific!" "great timing!" etc), came out to a $50 parking ticket (meter expired 4 minutes before I got to it), watched a car accident happen, and sped to Rite Aid to buy some instantaneous histamine blocking drugs.

This was all by noon.

I sat in my car, waiting for the zyrtec to kick in, and had to laugh. Which is probably the point of life -- to find the absurdity and humor in it. To find that in your auditions, your sides, your relationships, your ____________. To find the laughter in all of it.

My mom once said to me, "Have a funny day." It's something her yoga teacher's little boy said one morning, and it's always resonated with me. So while I am having a mildly itchy day, and an up and coming actress-y day, I am grateful that I'm having a funny day.

(Meanwhile I am eating these leaves that my acupuncturist gave me from his garden. He says they'll help. I feel like a miserable rabbit).

I got the magic in me

OK....so, this song is cheesy.

BUT It makes me happy. And while it has nothing to do with acting, I somehow find a way to apply most songs to my life, or certainly to my career.

For me, this song just makes me smile, and before auditions it reminds me that I've got something special in me. So even if there are seven other girls in the requisite jeans and black tank, I know that I "got the magic in me." I bring something new and interesting...magical, even.

What can I say? I got some roller rink in me.
Enjoy!

The buzzkillers

So at my final audition of the week (which was also my seventh audition of the week), I was waiting for my producer session. Casting thought they were ready for me, but realized the producers needed an extra second, so they asked me to wait right by the door.

Through the mighty thin walls this is what I hear before I go in: "Acting is over-rated. We just need someone hot. Like ridiculously hot. Seriously. That's it."

Which was, (ahem), not exactly what I wanted to hear after prepping these sides, making choices, and working my ass off to memorize and be 100% on my game for this series regular role. If that's the case, why don't they just cast someone off of their headshot? Buzzkill? Yes. Audition killer? No. You can't let it be.

Because here's the thing -- it just further illustrates that so much of this industry is out of our control. Do your best, but take it with a grain of salt. You could be too hot, not hot enough, too good, not good enough, or simply remind the producer of his ex-wife's sister that he always hated. Totally out of your control.

If you have 10 auditions and don't book, it ok. It's out of your control. If you have 50 auditions and don't book, it's ok. It's out of your control. As long as you are doing your part (prepared, punctual, good read, looking your best), it's just par for the course.

And it will make it that much sweeter when it hits.

WWLMD

What Would Leslie Mann Do?

I always ask myself this before comedy auditions. A) because I f-ing love her work & B) because her timing is real and fantastic.

I think I should make a little rubber band bracelet with this acronym.

I went to an audition for a big studio comedy this morning, and thought that after yesterday, perhaps I should revert to carrying the requisite headshot in my bag (just in case). I had had a couple rumpled ones in there for close to a year -- rumpled because no one ever wanted or needed one, for a year because that's how long it's been since anyone has asked me for a headshot in the room.

About two weeks ago, I pulled them out of my purse. They were in dire need of updating, and they were starting to look pretty haggard. And as luck would have it, yesterday, The Casting Director of Doom & Entitlement gave me shit for not having one. Fine, I thought -- just toss some new ones in your purse with all the recent bookings added, and the manager taken off. Chances are they won't want it, but who knows.

So I go to my audition today and the CD doesn't ask me for a headshot. I decide to offer it up. "Do you need my pic & resume?" She literally laughs. "No sweetie, don't be silly. We have all your stuff here." Mind you, this is a CD I've met once. And producers I've never met. But this is how I'm used to it working. They're prepped for who is coming in to the room, just as I am prepped with my material, choices, and Leslie Mann inspiration.

It was a great read. They laughed, we chatted for a bit, and I left....newly rumpled headshot and resume still in tow.

Self taping

About a year ago I had to put myself on tape for a series reg on an episodic (which was casting out of NY). I had never done it before, and scrambled to figure out what to do in the 24hrs I had to put it together. How hard could it be, I thought? So I tried to be off book, had my boyfriend's assistant help me, and we shot the scene in an empty office.

My agency sent a messenger to pick up the DVD, and a few hours later, I receive a call from my agent....saying this:

"I don't know what to say. This is not the work we know you to do -- you weren't off book, we could barely see you. I would just rather the casting director not see your work at all, than to see you like this."

Gulp. Tell me what you really think. But that's why I love him afterall...he does.

It was harsh, but it was true. The lighting was bad, it was thrown together, I wasn't off book....and it was mortifying. I knew it wasn't my best but I didn't know it was THAT bad. The next time I had to put myself on tape, he called some casting directors and asked if they'd put me on tape in between their other sessions. I brought them some cupcakes, we shot the scene, and everyone was happy.

Today, I have to self tape again. I won't be in NY for a while, and they want to see me for this role. My actress friend is coming over to help me, and fingers crossed that we do it justice...or God knows, I'll hear about it. She's good at this stuff, so it should be a home run.

The things that make my blood boil

I have a pretty high tolerance for asshole behavior -- you have to in this town, because there are a lot of assholes. But every once in a while, I am blown away by the assholery of a special few. (Yes, assholery - go with it).

I have five auditions this week (some for series regs, some for major features, and features in 3D, and one for an indie), the latter being a world that I have asked to have more access to. So when I received this indie script and saw who was attached, I said yes -- I would love to meet these producers. It's deep and interesting and different....it's quintessential indie.

I go in to the read today and the sign in sheet has "Union/Non-union?" next to the place that we sign our name. This should have been my first sign that this would not be like my normal reads, because for me, this is something I've never seen. I go in, and the lone casting director asks me for my headshot. I don't have one.

"Sorry, I don't have one with me."
-"Why not?"
"Because I wasn't told I needed one today and we're in the process of updating my resume."
-"Let me tell you something dear. As an actress, for your future, you always need to carry with you a headshot...and a resume."

....at this point she's talking to me with a tone like I'm a fucking three year old....

"Well, if it's important, I can have my agency fax one over, but I was told they sent you a hard copy." (which, by the way, they did.)
-"You don't seem to understand. As a professional actress, you should have this with you. All the time. Do you understand me?"

....OK. Simmer down now crazy lady. Is she trying to school me in the world of auditioning? Something I do every single day of my life? I find myself in this moment losing every ounce of patience. Not just because she's being ridiculously condescending (not to mention she has zero casting credits and evidently doesn't know how to run a session), but because she gets away with talking to actresses that way. It blows my mind. Perhaps she assumes that I'm a non-union actress and this is my 4th audition ever...who cares? Where does she get off being so obnoxious? To anyone?It drives me crazy......

I roll my eyes (because I succumbed to her level of obnoxiousness, and shamefully could not control my eyes from doing a backflip into their sockets), turn around to set up the space, and center the chair. She walks over and says, "You're going to be standing. You're not going to use the chair." I look up at her -- "well actually, there are five scenes, and I'm going to use the chair for a couple of them." "No you're not," she says, "we're not using the chair today."

WTF? I'm sorry, I thought I was an actress. You know, the kind that makes choices and works on her material...I can't even sit now? And in that moment, time froze and a voice in my head kept saying to me, "just leave, just leave, just leave." I can safely say, I have never had the impulse to leave an audition, but today I battled the urge.

I ended up staying, doing the scenes (standing up, mind you), and leaving without saying thank you, shaking her hand, or giving a shit. I felt sick -- sick that the producers weren't there, sick that this D level casting agent felt entitled to speak down to any actress/any person/ anybody, and sick that I stayed. I called my agent when I left. "We told you you could have passed if you wanted to,. This is purely because you asked for more indie stuff. Not the kind of project we seek out for you." he said. "I know, I know, but I liked the script...who knew she was gonna suck so much?"

We brushed it off, my blood stopped boiling, and I came home to learn material for "Men in Black 3," where as with every project in this town, there are sure to be a few assholes, but at least these ones know what they're doing and how to run a casting session.

Only as an actress...

...do you go to an audition at FOX, and have to do a double take because everyone around you looks like they're from the 1940s, a caged lion is being driven by you with transpo, and elephants are walking around the lot.

Turns out they're filming "Water for Elephants" at the moment -- so thankfully I'm not seeing things. They were on lunch break so all the extras were walking around the lot in their old school wardrobe....and on their blackberries. Classic.

Looong day

Woke up this morning at 7am to find an email from my agent (sent at 11pm the night before) for an audition for a recurring on an episodic...today. Problem was, I was set to film from 1pm til the cows came home on a different project. So, after some early morning scrambling, we decided I would go in to the CDs and they would put me on tape for the producers, who I wouldn't be able to see later in the day.

I get there, the clock is ticking, and no one is putting me on tape. They're shooting the shit, chatting about fav shows on the Food Network, and the entire time I'm thinking, "I have to go!!!" So finally I just said it...I became that girl who is so uninterested in her appointment that her laissez faire translates to a booking.

They wanted to find their girl today, but they think I'm great for the role and stalled a bit so that I can meet the producers tomorrow.

Kind of amazing. And a far stretch from the days at the beginning of my career when I would ask the chick at the front desk, "Um, hi....do you, um, know how much longer it'll be? I put change in the meter twice, and I thought I was next...," only to watch the eyes roll on this (let's be honest) summer intern, power tripping over the fact that they're running the front desk of a high brow casting agency. These were the same days when I didn't know things like that, and I also sprinted to my car if they asked if I brought a headshot and I happened to forget it -- now I just say, "Sorry, I don't." And if they mildly freak, I have my agent's assistant fax one over. Because none of it is as big a deal as you think it is at the beginning....if only someone had told me that.

Night and day, I tell you...

Keep you posted on tomorrow -- as for now, it's time for a nightcap, a snuggle, and some carrots and hummus.

I don't get it

Why spend a fortune to get these two stars in this movie, and then not use their pictures in the ad? Makes zero sense to me. Any ideas?

Not being afraid

I like this guy -- who dances every single day in front of this storefront on Robertson -- rain or shine, in his little black spandex workout gear, he grooves to his boombox with unbridled joy. Granted, he might be a little crazy, but he's certainly not afraid (of what people think, of how he looks, of any of it).

I envy this guy for that -- and lately I've checked my fear at the door a bit. My fearless week at a glance:

-I was with a group of girls a couple days ago, and one of the ladies felt she had carte blanche to be catty....for what reason, I don't know. Either way, as some girl passed by, this is what she said: "You should see her without makeup, she's hideous; she has these bug eyes, and she's so ugly." Awful, right? Who is that mean...besides Perez Hilton? I can firmly (and shamefully) say that in the past if someone would say something like that I would clam up. I would know it was wrong, but I would say nothing, because it was more important for me to be liked than to stand up for what was right. Not on this day -- I looked at her and said "That's just mean. I don't know that girl, and I don't want to be part of talking about her like that. It's unkind." It shut her up. And if felt great.

-The manager (of the manager-gone-awry- situation) called me. First on Friday, then again on Monday. This is what he said when we finally connected, "Please don't hate me, we're friends now. We're friends, and I wish things could have worked out but it's my partner, and please don't hate me. Call me when you need anything at all -- my door is always open to you -- for questions or if you need help getting in on a project. We're friends now. Seriously babe." OK -- now on the surface, maybe this sounds like an awesome guy, but it was way more layered than that. None of it made sense to me. And again, instead of sitting quietly and just being charmed that he even thought to call me, I spoke up: "No, I'm not 10. I don't hate you. But I do feel it was mishandled, because none of this makes sense. You said yes, your partner said yes, and then you guys waffled. I found your honesty so refreshing, and now it all feels really Hollywood and disingenuous." He piped in very quickly on that one, and it went back and forth until I just said I appreciated him calling. To which he replied, "Right? It's an awkward call but I made it. I made it for you babe. Aren't you proud of me?" I mean, do I even need to comment on this?

My point in all of this is that at a certain point - in our careers, in our lives - we must speak up. Do it with class, and do it when it's right, but do it. One of my first auditions ever for a big Universal film, I auditioned for a character that said one word: "Hi." I went into the producer session, and the director said, "Can you say hi?" I laughed and said, "I can, but I read the script and I really respond to the role of Kelly, and would love to read for that." I was fearless, and the director loved it. The role I asked about was cast to a name, but they wrote in two scenes for me. You simply cannot be afraid.

Sunday...not so funday

I woke up this morning with my eyes swollen shut. I looked like the monster from "The Goonies"...it was scary (and certainly scary looking), but in that working actress fashion, all that ran through my head was "Thank God I'm not shooting today."

How crazy is that? Yes, my wellness and recovery was a concern. The question of what triggered this allergic reaction was on the forefront, but at the core my biggest sigh of relief was that I didn't have a 6am calltime with my eyes looking like some other worldly monstrosity. And it wasn't just vanity -- for practicality's sake, there was no way i could have even driven...when I say swollen shut, I mean, 20% visibility.

So while the rest of you were watching the World Cup, I was passed out on Benadryl. Only to be awoken by my boyfriend bearing food from the Canter's Deli foodtruck.

Turkey on rye with deli mustard, a boyfriend who still thinks I look pretty when (clearly) I look frightening, and 24 hrs to knock this reaction before a wardrobe fitting. Somebody is in my corner, this much I know.

Thank God it's Friday

After a full week of shooting the super covert film, it only got better when I found out today that I booked a national commercial.

I got the news over a sushi lunch with one of my actress friends (she's a booker, she books all the time) -- we were at Itzaka-ya by Katsuya....a super affordable, super delicious restaurant where the only drawback is that you have to lean in very close and whisper if you wanna talk about anyone in the industry (because everyone there knows someone or is someone). Obnoxious, yes. But the sushi is amazing, and the value even better.

So over our sake and crispy rice with spicy tuna lunch (my favorite!!), I am lamenting about what a tool that manager was who said he wanted to sign me and then changed his mind. I literally hadn't mentioned him since that whole thing happened last week, when I see I have a missed call. Who's the voicemail from? Him.

The silly bastard's ears were ringing.

I called my agent, and have decided that I won't call said manager back until Monday, because quite frankly....who cares? If he's groveling, doesn't matter, if he realized he made a mistake, doesn't matter -- if he just wants to apologize, it still really doesn't matter.

And perhaps that's my point -- and it's only something that has happened as I've become more seasoned --I know who I am. I am confident in what I can bring to the table, and I am the same actress now that I was a week ago when he got all wishy washy. That is the same belief I wish I had in myself at the very beginning (when, if we're being honest, I would have gone running back to his fair-weather arms).

So sayonara Mr. Hollywood....save all your bullshit for other potential clients.

And as for me -- Kampai! to an amazing weekend, and continued success...with or without d-bag managers.

Confidential

Working on a film this week that's super fancy. So fancy, in fact, that I had to sign a confidentiality agreement about all content pertaining to it.

Wish I could say more, but I signed on the dotted line.

God bless America

In the hustle bustle of the holiday weekend, I completely forgot to check the mail on Saturday. So yesterday I go outside and find a stack of envelopes in the mailbox. Nine to be exact. Nine envelopes from SAG.

A deluge of residual checks -- from ones that could buy me a pizza, and others that could finance a weekend away (or if we're being responsible, car payments and water bills).

Either way, it made me wanna jump up and sing Yankee Doodle Dandy, because despite the fact that Uncle Sam ate a large piece of each check, the surprise of seeing them in that mailbox made me the happiest little American.

Divorced

Sorry for the delay in posts this week -- it's been a full one.

The largest turn of events is that my quintessential Hollywood marriage went sour faster than you can say prenup.

I mentioned in the last post that wedding bells were ringing with the new managers. Well...here's how it all played out:

Friday: met with one of the partners, who called my agent immediately after I left and said he was dying to sign me.

Monday: met with the other partner, who in the room told me he loved me and wanted to sign me.

Monday PM: get a call from my agent saying that they each called him individually (and blamed it on the other person), but said they were wavering about if they wanted to represent me. My agent said he didn't need to convince anyone to take me as a client (especially given that everyone else I met with was eager to sign me). But these guys said they were on the fence...feeling very unexcited about me being a client.

Ah hem. Then why tell me in the room that you want me? Why give me a whole song and dance about how important it is to mean what you say and not treat anyone in a manner that you wouldn't want your daughter to be treated ("because we have an extra sensitivity for women and how rough this industry can be," says the lying shmuck).

Here's what kills me most -- I bought it. I thought my gut had a propensity for telling me when someone was disingenuous -- but evidently not. Because I left those meetings saying "I love them. They are so honest, and it's so refreshing, and I feel energized."

So as quickly as my love affair began, it ended. Welcome to Hollywood.