Worse Than Bullets

A few days ago, while perusing the landscapes of textsfromlastnight.com, fmylife.com, and other various time-wasters of the interweb, I kept stumbling across references to a site called Chatroulette. Being the inquisitive little elf that I am, eventually I moseyed on over to chatroulette.com, and what I found there... is burned in my brain forever.

To try and describe this site, it's a mix between Skype, chat rooms, and Russian roulette. (fittingly, as it was created by a teenager in Russia. Motherland indeed.) Basically, you go on the site, and your webcam is activated. The site then links you up with another random person on the same site, and in an instant, you are video chatting with someone else from around the world. You have the option of deactivating sound, and can communicate through IM-style, but it is still face to face anonymity. You don't have to register, you have no user name, there is no way for the other person to find you ever again unless you give them information.

This may sound really strange, but once you start using the site it becomes addicting. You can say anything you want to anyone, and if you don't like them, simply click Next and you are connected to a new person.

Now I know what most of you are thinking. "Wow Rachel, this site is a great way to expand my mind and talk intelligently about different issues with people from around the world, what a great idea!"

Oh, you weren't thinking that? Well, if you are like a good 20% of people on the site, you were probably thinking "What a perfect opportunity to show the world what I look like masturbating!"

Wait, what??

Oh yes, friends. Just like in Russian roulette, if you go through enough blanks, eventually you get to a bullet. Only in this case, blanks are bored people staring at their computer, and bullets are close-up penises. Lots and lots of penises. In fact, this phenomenon has been turned into a successful drinking game, where every time a penis pops up, you take a shot.

Beware of playing for more than an hour, alcohol poisoning isn't fun for anyone.

Although about half of the site is penises or 15 year old boys asking girls to flash tits for Haiti, I've had some very interesting conversations. I went through about 10 people asking all of them what made them happy. A few didn't take me seriously, a few ended the session as soon as I asked, but some people shared their dreams, their family lives, and what keeps them going.

I also tried going on the site with a fake bruise and cut on my cheek, leftover from a film shoot earlier in the day. It may have been a messed up thing to do, but when anyone asked about it, I said that my boyfriend hit me. It was actually heartwarming to see the outrage and support as people advised me to leave, that I didn't deserve it, and even gave some websites that would help me get out.

I've talked to a man dressed as a cat, a film director in the west village, a bamboo growing out of a smiley face coffee mug, a boy lip-syncing "And I Am Telling You", french girls smoking 'cannabis', a Chilean man playing his tribal flute, and... wait for it.... the cast of Jersey Shore. Seriously. Pauly D and The Situation. Epic abs and hair gel.

Just like anything else, you have to wade through the crap to get to what the site was created for. And if you're patient and keep trying, like anything else, eventually you land on something good. So, try it! Have a conversation, ask the right questions, and see what you can learn.

Just beware of the penises. Unless you're into that sort of thing.

I Have Only One Burning Desire

Yes yes, I know I already blogged today, but the weather outside is just frightful, and there's something about falling snow that makes me contemplative and want to express ideas in my poorly-constructed blogs that no one reads. In any case...

I had an audition this afternoon for a student film. It sounded really cool, and both of the female roles sounded like people I could play, and it looked like it had the potential for good reel material. But to be honest, the weather today is wet wet snow and slush, and no one wants to go out in that crap without a really good reason.

You know, it's hard to be a good liberal and support the global warming theory when this has been the slushiest and snowiest winter I've seen in a while... but I digress.

As flaky as it is, I was thinking about calling and cancelling my time slot when I saw something that caught my attention, to put it mildly.

The director had us all sign up on a digital, online schedule. It was formatted in such a way that you could just write your name next to the time slot you wanted... and you could see the other names of everyone who was auditioning.

And whaddaya know, I found some very interesting names.

To protect the innocent, I will not be terribly specific, but there were two other girls on that list that I know. Now I don't know either of them very well, and they both seem to be very nice people, but all three of us have one thing in common. And I don't know whether it was just that I know them or if it was this common bond, but let me tell you: Seeing those names on the list LIT A HELLFIRE UNDER MY ASS.

Now, you would think I would be raring to go either way. This was a totally improv audition, which I always do the best at, and it wasn't paid so there was no pressure, just go and have fun. But all of a sudden I was infused with this pure energy of competitiveness.

I know that acting is in itself a very competitive business; that every audition I go to I am up against dozens to hundreds of other talented, beautiful girls. For some reason, my brain doesn't really click into the competition part of it. I mostly see it as a competition against my past self, doing better every time. But this time, something in me was dying to beat these specific girls out for either of the roles.

This sense of direct competition shocked, energized, and excited me. I was super confident because of my recent casting, and I had plenty of sleep last night, and inconvenient though it is, snow never fails to make me smile. So I threw on clothing, tossed my headshot folder in a plastic bag, and sped away.

The audition went great. I was loose, and I don't think I did my absolute best, but it felt good and natural, and I was right: it was a lot of fun. And no awkwardness, because I guess since I was the first one to sign up, the other two girls made sure their time slots were nowhere near mine. Smart move, ladies.

As you know, I am constantly looking for motivators and ways to keep me and my ADD self on task. Now that I know I can feel this Project Runway-era desire to stamp out the competition, I'll try and recreate it whenever I'm feeling a little listless.

Just remember who you're up against. See if it doesn't light YOUR fire.

Daddy Time Issues

Father Time and I have always had a bit of a rocky relationship, to put it mildly.

I don't know if it was my crazy family who always left at least an hour late for every vacation or family event, or if growing up in Miami just put me permanently on Cuban time (fun fact: you want Cubans to show up at 7:30, tell them the party is at 5. Don't say I didn't warn you), but I was just never one of those people who could leave the house on time with any regularity. Sure, once in a while I would have a fluke and have plenty of time to spare, but this occurs either when I

A: am already out of the house

B: gave myself 3 hours to get ready

or

C: didn't fool around on the computer because the power was out

Needless to say, this does not happen often.

So my life usually consist of me running desperately, curls flying askew, to make it just in the nick of time, or more normally, 5-10 minutes late for any given occasion.

When it comes to auditions, I have pretty much kicked the late habit by programming the appointment time into my phone 10-15 minutes early. Even with this little technique I still have had to sweat it out, but I haven't been late yet.

But something as simple as a few minutes in your day is not by any means the only way time affects our lives. Ever had a ridiculous coincidence that just made life seem like a real-time version of The Sims? Ever just miss an opportunity? Ever realize that what was happening could have worked, only it wasn't the right time?

Yeah, me too. Everyone has.

Not to get too personal, but last night, to quote Mark from RENT, "I was dumped". And it seemed to come from out of the blue, but it's very true that the only ones who understand artists are other artists, or at least people with a desire to learn about it. I was cursing Father Time once again because chances are, the way things were going, if it had gone on longer I probably would have been the one to end it.

Even my mother, the most positive person in the world, called this one "Mr. Right Now".

Time tricked me and brought things to an end too early, and so I look like the idiot. Damn you, Father Time!!

But wait...

No sooner do I get home and open my email, but I find out that I just booked my first ever non-school related NY play. A classical play. And I booked the strong female lead who cross dresses and fools everyone. NOT the ingenue which is what I originally went for.

Now, leaving aside for a moment how I'm THRILLED that I might get paid, that I get to do theatre again, and that for once someone saw in me something stronger than the pretty girl in love, even the world's biggest cynic cannot deny that the timing could not have been more perfect. With this play, I am not going to have, well, TIME to dilly dally around.

Basically, instead of making me worry about how to shift my focus and what to say, the Universe took care of it for me. Just for this once, Father Time seems to be on my side.

For however long you're here, sit down. Have some tea. Let's be friends. Thanks for having my back.

Bipolar Spotlight

Everyone has something about themselves that they don't like admitting to. Something that is a part of who they are that they try to fight at all costs, but in weak moments, it rears its ugly head. Something that you only ever hear deep in your own subconscious, or when the person closest to you is furious and knows just which button to press.

For me, and to some extent for all actresses I truly believe, that quality is... ugh I can't say this publicly.... damn it... ok... ok..... one, two..... two and a half...

I LOVE ATTENTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There. I said it out loud. Or, wrote it out loud.

I do, Lord help me. I have loved attention ever since I was a little girl and after singing Itsy Bitsy Spider I would applaud FOR MYSELF. In fact, I have only recently forgiven my little sister for being born and taking some of my parents attention away from me (God forbid).

The reason I don't necessarily like this quality about myself is, in my mind at least, there is an inescapable parallel between liking attention and being selfish. I know we can't all be Mother Teresa, and that acting is inherently a selfish art (who am I, what am I trying to do, how am I feeling, yada yada yada), but the people I have looked up to most in this world, at least the ones I know personally, have had a distinctly unselfish quality.

I have made mistakes in the past and have been incredibly selfish at times, but it is one of the many things I am actively trying to turn around.

I know none of us really want to be selfish. Who wants to be around someone who is constantly me me me? But, on the other hand, every person needs to know what is best for them, and when to draw the line and exhibit a little self-preservation and respect.

So where is that line when it comes to relationships?

In the last relationship I had, one of the big lessons I learned was to speak up and ask for what I want. I tiptoed around the other person too much and tried too hard to please him all the time, and it bit me in the ass, not to mention that I was miserable. So I promised myself in my next relationship I would attend to my needs as well as the other persons.

Today was a blizzard. And let me tell you, this was a doozy. A gazillion or so inches of snow, wind, slush, and general inconvenience. Not that I didn't love being outdoors in it, but that's besides the point.

I was supposed to have my man over for some keeping warm in the storm time, but because of weather and work, he had to go home. Not his fault, I'm aware, and maybe this is only because I'm slightly jealous that he has a real job, but when he broke the news I got pretty pissy.

You wouldn't think Queens and Brooklyn would feel so far away, but when you rely on the public transportation system, that's the Manhattan version of a long distance relationship.

As soon as I got pissy I felt selfish, childish, and like I was becoming the worst part of myself. I don't want to tie into the cliche of "Actresses are always high-maintenance to date, they need plenty of attention and compliments, you must cater to their needs, and for heavens sake watch out for those mood swings!"

I don't want to be that girl. And I think most of the time I am successful. But I'm having trouble finding that compromise. And this is not the issue to pick at.

Tonight I will curl up alone, read my lines, and simply look forward to the next time I see him.

I'm making the decision for it to NOT be about me.

Spotlight out.

The Secret? SHOW UP

This may be hard to believe, but when I was a tween and teenager, I was... wait for it.... a DORK. A huge, gangly, glasses-braces-frizzy hair having DORK. I loved musical theatre and reading, I actually liked spending time with my parents, and I was quiet and always felt incredibly awkward.

I also loved boys. Different boys from time to time, but it seemed that from 5th grade on, I always had a crush on somebody. Somebody that almost never liked me back.

When I got down about it, my dad would always try to cheer me up the same way. He would say "Rachel, what you don't realize, because you can't see yourself clearly, is that you are the whole package. You are smart, you are a good person, AND you're beautiful, and boys your age don't know how to handle a girl like that. They are way too intimidated to talk to you."

Needless to say, I was a tad skeptical of this explanation.

To this day, I don't know whether that was true, bullshit, or biased information. But as I get older, I need a different kind of encouragement. The boys I have under control. My life... needs a little work.

So whenever I get down at my ability to handle, well, life as an adult, my dad still tries to cheer me up the same way:

"Rachel, you are the whole package. So many good things will happen to you if you will just LET THEM."

I was always skeptical of this as well, until recently. I mean, you have to work hard to make things happen for yourself. You need to wade through crap and push yourself for years and years to make a glimmer of good come about. Right?

But, recently, I have been getting huge bouts of good news. And it didn't even seem that hard.

I have booked 6 jobs in the last week and a half. Nothing paid, of course, but I've booked student films, short films, play readings, you name it. All I had to do was get out of bed on time and go to an audition, and all these parts start rolling in.

I have also needed a way to get money. I went to what turned out to be a fake casting call at a bar in the East village, ended up talking to the owner and giving him my headshot, and they called me in to work as a cocktail waitress. The shift went great, I made a good amount of money, and the best part? NO PAPERWORK. So, once again, I simply showed up, and I got exactly what I needed.

I also, through family connections, am making plans to fly out to LA to meet with one of the top casting directors in Hollywood. We'll see what happens with the meeting, but I have a feeling that as long as I show up, good things will come of it.

I know this is a wave of good things, and that nothing lasts forever, but for now, I'm feeling pretty good about where this year is going. And it's all because I SHOWED UP.

Thanks dad. You're better than any guardian angel I could ever have on my shoulder.

I'm letting it happen. Damn it feels good to be busy.