Workin Hard for ?

Hello hello! I've been gone for a while, but per Emily's request (I have a fan! Yipes!) I'm determined to blog about something....

Hm.

Well, new years was pretty recent. Shall I write yet another blog about how I'm determined to change, how to form my life into what I want it to be, how I'm just the MOST positive person ever and how I CAN do it!!!!????

Or at least something like that.

Based off the phrase "You can have anything you want, but not everything you want." I was recently asked what I would wish for in my life RIGHT NOW if I could have anything. I definitely had to think it over, or rather think carefully how to word it.
Unsurprisingly, it had nothing to do with my personal life. That usually takes care of itself sooner or later; and anyway it never happens when you're looking for it. Waste of a wish, if you ask me.
Somewhat surprisingly, it had nothing to do with my state of mind either. I know my mind has gone a bit twisty and dark in the past, but I know my patterns well enough by now to catch it before it really starts going to the bad place where dead baby jokes make me cry instead of laugh.

Probably similar to most NY women, my wish was for my professional life. It is not an unreachable goal, and it doesn't even seem to be incredibly difficult when you just say it out loud:

I wish I could earn a living, modest or not, solely off of acting.

But saying and doing, my little darlings, are two very different things.

I know every profession has some sort of ladder you must pay your dues at and claw your way to the top of. Unless you have some amazing luck or connections, (in which case go fuck yourself, you know you don't deserve it) it is expected and necessary. You put up with crap, you learn a lot, you take a step up, you put up with more but slightly different crap, you learn more, you take another step, yada yada yada. That's how it works. I know that.
But man, sometimes it seems like that first crappy step goes on for a little too long.

If I count doing commercials as a kid, I have been acting for somewhere around 15 years.
I'll repeat that. 15 years. More than half my life.
Shouldn't that be worth something?

I know, we don't act because we want to be rich. We do it because we feel a need to; because something in our soul yearns for expression and cannot achieve it any other way; because we have serious mental issues, whatever. And all of that is true.
But we shouldn't be chastised for wanting to be paid for what we've been trained to do. There are few things in this world that are more satisfying than someone thinking you're so good at what you love most in the world that they will actually PAY you to do it.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind doing free theatre and film. I love it. I love getting to work with new scripts, to reinvent a well known character, to bring beautiful language and stories to tens and tens (not a typo) of people at a time. And I know I didn't study Shakespeare, movement, and stage combat to talk about how Vagisil makes me feel just SO comfortable.
But a few years ago, when I booked that commercial, I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so, well, validated.

I'd really really like to feel that again. Also, if my grandfather tells me he wants to see my name in lights before he dies one more time, I'm probably going to have a seizure and bite my own tongue off.

So I'm going to do what I have to. I'm not a pushy person, but I will be pushy and relentless if I have to be. I'm not a fearless person, but I will not let fear get in the way. I'm sometimes clueless, but I'll figure out a way.

Because even if my wish did somehow come true through magic... it would feel so much better if I did it myself.

Reality Trip

Not to sound like a jet-setter or anything, but yes, I did just get back from Hawaii and yes, I'm going to write about it. A quick overview on why I went: My dad is an Ironman triathlete. In case you've never heard of this (and trust me, I do not think any less of you if you haven't) the Ironman triathalon is the hardest tri race in the world. It is a 2.4 mile swim, 114 mile bike ride, and then, a MARATHON. You know, only 26.2 miles and miles and miles of running.
If you think you'd have to be insane to want to do this race... you would be absolutely correct. That is a minimum requirement, actually.
Now, the World Championship Ironman is in Kona, Hawaii. It is the same race, only through Hawaiian size waves, over blacktop surrounded by petrified lava, in the hot sun and fierce winds. To do this particular Ironman, you must qualify, which means you must be in the top 2 or 3 of your entire age group in another Ironman race. Kona is only for the toughest, most competitive, and craziest people who participate in this sport.

My dad is one of them. He set this goal for himself years ago and, this weekend, achieved it.

So, of course, my entire family goes to support him and (incidentally of course) get a trip to Hawaii out of the whole spectacle.
All caught up? You with me? Awesome. Moving on.

Many people say that they love NY because of how real it is. No one tries to sugarcoat anything, it's where you're forced to prove yourself in the 'real' world, and when you see a bum pooping in a box, you think life doesn't get any more real than that.
This is certainly what I thought when I first moved here 5 (holycraphaveIreallybeenhere5years) years ago, and up until recently, I kept that in my head. But through looking at myself and meeting a wonderful person on my trip, I now have a very different point of view.

In NYC, besides money, one of the top commodities a person can have is wit. Cleverness. The ability to quickly and intelligently make fun of anything, and make anyone laugh. Wit can, and totally is, used to cover insecurity, loneliness, any number of emotional ailments that NY hands out to its loyal members so abundantly, along with the flu and common cold.
Mostly everyone tries to use wit in public, and as a result, mostly everyone comes into a conversation, especially when meeting people for the first time, with a layer of skepticism and cynicism that is almost impenetrable. Constantly looking for double meanings and sarcasm, not trusting for a moment that this person is being at all genuine; because, really, who is?

Oh wait, that's right! Not everyone lives in NY! There are places outside these 5 buroughs, where people say what they mean and are allowed to be who they are without trying to be who they are in the most fashionable and ironic sense. Places like... Hawaii maybe?

My sister and I went on a spiritual (among other things) journey together in Hawaii before race day, and at the start of this journey we met two young men and they decided to come along with us. Me being the hard, toughened NYer that I am, and watching out for my little sister in addition to myself, I was instantly on my guard and my bullshit detector was cranked up to an 11 out of 10.
So when one of the young men started going on about saving butterflies and absorbing energy, and literally was stopping to smell flowers, I was certain this was a whole carefully constructed act to make the big city girl loosen up her morals and legs on her amazing Hawaii vacation to the mysterious, yoga-tastic boy with the sandy blonde wind-blown hair and deep blue-green eyes.
Hey, I never said positive energy was the only thing he had going for him.

It took a whole day for me to realize that this guy wasn't bullshitting, and after that, that he wasn't just plain crazy. He was simply saying what he thought and felt. Without giving a thought to what other people might think of it. And this attitude had a deep effect on me. I began to lose my 3rd eye. Not my true 3rd eye to wisdom and clarity, but my fake 3rd eye that is always watching everything I do from an outsiders point of view. I did things like jumping on a wall and climbing a tree, not because I thought it would look like I was a free spirit, but just because it was fun and felt good to use my muscles.

It's been a while since that happened. Longer than I'd care to admit.

I had to go all the way to Hawaii to find someone who was real; who allowed me to experience something real. And while people in NY may laugh their superior laugh, this man is braver than all of them, because he is who he is, and is not afraid to be beautiful.

It's a lesson we can all benefit from.

The H.A.L.T. Rule

Common sense. Oh, common sense. What has happened to you in this day and age? Do you feel forgotten, left behind, mocked even? Sometimes it seems that no one uses you any more except for adorable old couples from the South and people who drop out of law school to own and operate bakeries.
The days of "If it ain't your dog, don't walk it" and "Don't bet on a tater hill before grabblin time" seem to be faded, or maybe pushed, far into the past.

My personal favorite is the H.A.L.T. rule: Never make any decisions when you are Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired.

But even though we don't listen to our own common sense, it's still there, just waiting for us to use it when the opportunity arrives.

Case in point: Because I did not use common sense, the other night I thought I was hallucinating.
Nope. Not a joke. Fo realz.

I work as a cocktail waitress at a popular bar in downtown Manhattan, and as a result I put up with a lot of shit from ornery customers and people who like to pretend they never heard of a tip. I am usually pretty good-natured about this and over the years have learned how to handle it, but saturday..... oh saturday.
It was my Perfect Storm.

I arrived early per my bosses request because our bar was the last stop on the Greenwich Village Pub Crawl and it was going to be packed. And it was. And just as those people started to finally leave, the normal Saturday night crowd came in. And kept coming. And kept coming.
To the point where there were so many people it took me 5 minutes just to get from one side of the bar to the other.

Now, it may not seem like a hard job, but I run my ass off and try my best to sell drinks and make sure people have a good time. I know it's nothing to really be proud of, but dammit I'm a good waitress. And saturday night, even though sometimes I pictured myself graphically and mercilessly killing certain customers, I was keeping an eye on my tips and knew I was doing well.

At the bar, we keep all of our money folded together, and the computer keeps track of how many drinks we order, and then at the end of the night we give the bar the money for the drink sales and keep the rest. On a night like this, for me it should have been around $300.
Should. Have. Been.

I counted my money once.
"Must be a mistake"
I counted it twice.
"I must have put some somewhere else... wait, no I didn't"
I counted it thrice.
"WHAT THE F***"

I was left with a grand total of $11.

I know, I know, you are all thinking of a perfectly sane and easily explained reason for this, but please keep in mind that at this point it is 3:30 AM and I have been on my feet for no less than 11 hours. I start going over the night in my head, trying to see if maybe I undercharged people, if anything seemed out of order, if I dropped off some money at the bar? Not a chance.
The money, seemingly, had disappeared into thin air.

And this is the point when my brain goes haywire. I actually thought that I had hallucinated charging people the right prices and that all night my brain had been screwing with me. After 2 months away and coming back feeling like things were finally really and truly different for me, I though my brain was having a breakdown trying to drag me back down again. And so I did the sanest thing I could think of at that time.
I completely freaked out, started crying hysterically, and stormed out of the bar.

Of course, I talked to my version of personified common sense (mom) and she assured me that of course it was a pickpocket who was smart enough not to steal my entire roll of money to alert me, but only take a bunch of twenties that I would not notice for hours.
And if I had not made a decision when I was Tired, Angry, and Hungry I probably would have realized this too.

Morals of the story? More often than not, there is an explanation for anything, Don't carry so much money around at once, and of course, When in doubt, call Mom.

And before you decide, don't forget to H.A.L.T.

Spirit in the Wreck

I should mention 2 things before writing this blog, as a courtesy to readers:

1. I could have died today

2. This post will contain talk of the big G-O-D

In other words, if you are an athiest who takes yourself way too seriously, or you are not in the mood for 'heavy' subject matter, you probably are gonna want to move on and read the last 5 textsfromlastnight that have been added since the last time you looked at the site.

Note: this is not me judging, I do it too.

I originally did not want to blog while on my trip, but I want to get this out while it's still fresh in my head, plus I'm coming home in 3 days anyway, so same diff.

Ok, so about almost dying... sorry I ruined the punchline, but here goes.

I was traveling in a car (not in the drivers seat I would just like to point out) along one of Burkina-Faso's best maintained roads on my way to hopefully see some elephants. Now, when I say best-maintained road, I'm not lying... but here, that's not saying much. Potholes and rocks galore, and since it is rainy season, mud and puddles. The driver, there being essentially no other vehicular traffic, was going from side to side on the road to avoid said obstacles, when suddenly.... A high-speed turtle shell hit us from behind just as we slipped on a banan peel and-

Oh, wait, that's MarioKart. Sorry.

Seriously, suddenly three women came onto the side of the road we were driving along in a SUV at around 35 miles an hour. The driver swerved to avoid them, they dived out of the way, and our car went out of control, slid off of the road into a small ditch, then went AIRBORNE and flipped counter clockwise. I believe we would have turned all the way upside down if a large tree did not slam into our windshield and roof, effectively stopping the car balanced on the drivers side with the passenger window above our heads.

Kids, I can't make this shit up.

So those are the mechanics of what happened, but what struck me is so much more than that. In the maybe 1.5 seconds between the first swerve and slamming into that tree, I had the oddest emotional reaction imaginable.

I felt absolutely calm.

Now I know there are many ways to explain this. There wasn't enough time to process what was happening, my brain couldn't keep up with my eyes, I went into survival mode, whatever. And if I was emotionless I would maybe believe that.

But what I felt was this calm certainty that nothing serious would happen and that I would be ok. I mean, not just hope, but absolutely knew without a shadow of a doubt, just like I know my name is Rachel and Oscar Wilde was a homo.

My life did not flash before my eyes, because I knew I was not going to die.

I know it sounds cliche, but that accident did seem to go in slow motion. As we were heading off the road I knew we were going to crash, and as I saw the tree coming I knew the car would be damaged. But I was not at all surprised when the roof directly in front of and over my head crunched inwards, and stopped about an inch from my face.

And boys and girls, out of that horrible wreck, I emerged with not a scratch.

I don't talk about this side of me that much, but I take my Jewish spiritualism pretty seriously. I believe in God, if not the traditional image of God (please note lack of pronoun use) but my own interpretation based on Torah and personal morals and logic. I don't think you're going to hell if you don't believe in God, I'm just saying I do, and I've known that for a while.

Usually the time I talk to God most is on the subway; I'm either thanking him for making the train come right on time or cussing him out for it just pulling out as I step on the platform, late yet again.

This trip has made me feel closer to God than I have in a while. I think it's because when I'm thankful for something, I feel at peace, and I've had so much to be thankful for on this journey.

But this was the cherry on top of the African dark chocolate fudge sundae.

Call me crazy, but in those 1.5 seconds, I knew without a doubt that God was, in some small way, in the car with me and letting me know that I was going to be fine.

When I got out and saw how the car was wrapped around the tree like a stepford wife christmas present, it hit me how low the probability of me not getting hurt at all was in a crash like that. Even the driver had only a small cut on his thumb. In all honesty, we could have, and maybe even should have, been serously injured or died.

Plus, neither my iPod nor my camera were damaged. If that isn't God's hand, I don't know what is.

So call it what you want. Call it luck, call it karma, call it a guardian angel, or call it a fluke. There have been times in my life (and long-time friends have agreed with me on this) when it has seemed like I have more luck than the average person (knock on wood). But maybe, just maybe, it's not always luck.

Maybe someone is actually watching out for me on a universal level.

I couldn't be more grateful.

Eat, Help, (Hopefully) Love

So I have spent the last 9 days wandering, mostly by myself, around Paris, France.

I'll give you a moment to seethe in jealousy..... done? Good. Let's continue.

This is the first part of a 6 week trip I am embarking on for multiple reasons, and I think I've just about covered the section where I purely enjoy myself. I literally have had nothing on my agenda but wander, eat, drink, and try not to spend too much money in one day. I have seen the end of the Tour de France, the top of the Eiffel Tower, heard the bells of Notre Dame, and seen waaaaaay too many naked European men in one room. It has been wonderful.

And I am scared shitless for the next leg of my journey.

I am traveling to Burkina-Faso, one of the poorest African countries, to volunteer for 5 weeks. I'm not going with an organization. I'm not staying with a bunch of people my age. I am going pretty much on a whim with little to no idea of what awaits me.

What am I scared of you ask? Well, yeah, I am REALLY freaked out at the idea of a bug laying eggs in my leg or something, but that's not what I think about as I look out at the twinkling lights of the city of love.

I wanted to do this to find out who I really am. What sort of person I have become. How I react when I leave behind friends, technology, safety, family, basically everything that is familiar, and put myself in an alien world.

In other words, what happens when I go 5 weeks without facebook and hair gel.

I have this memory as a kid of me coming out of the circus with my parents in downtown Miami. There was this homeless guy Sylvester, and whenever we saw a show in that area my parents would always see him and talk to him and give him money. I remember seeing him and putting my hand in my pocket and fingering the $1 bill and the $10 bill I had in there.

Now, the question I was asking myself was not whether or not to give him anything. That was a given. I was caught between giving him the $1 or the $10.

Walking the 20 feet over to him was one of the longest I can remember. I was a mess trying to decide, knowing he needed it more than I did, but knowing that it was 2 weeks of allowance money. My heart was pounding; every step I took was slower than the last.

I finally grabbed a bill and handed it over with a smile. It was the $1.

These days, I do not look twice at a homeless person. It is a part of my daily routine, I am almost immune to it. And I know it is a stupid thing to worry about, but I wonder about the change that has to have taken place in me, to go from mentally agonizing over how much to give to not even thinking about giving anything.

And this is only one example. It's the tip of the iceberg of how much I've changed as a person, and the fact is, I don't know how much of it has been for the better.

So it's time to confront all of that. I'm going to help and relate to people I don't know as much as I possibly can, and maybe while trying to learn about and concentrate solely on others, I'll learn about myself. And once I learn who I really am, maybe I can respect and love myself enough to push all of my potential out of the hypothetical universe and into the real one.

And maybe, just maybe.... I can learn reasonably fluent French.

It can be a little lonely sometimes being by yourself in the city of love, but all of the love I've seen in this city has only strengthened my belief in it. I think my favorite example was something scribbled on Oscar Wilde's tomb:

"She was sitting in a cupcake shop, reading you. - J and B"

So here I go to see the world

With my eyes and with my soul,

And so much love, so little hate,

The Devil inside won't control my fate.

Love yourselves. I'll see you in September.

The Curious Case of Feminine Mystique

Remember all those sci-fi movies you loved watching as a kid?

Anyone?

Ok fine, remember ANY movie that was set in the future you loved watching as a kid?

Back to the Future counts, yes. Ok, we're on the same page now.

The two big predictions that always seemed to be the forefront of technology in 'the future' were A: flying cars and B: video calling. Uniform fashion comes in at a close 3rd, but since the popularization of Lady Gaga I feel that pretty soon the only possible way to get crazier is simplicity.

Anyway, although we have not yet solved the flying car dilemma (which is good because we should really focus on going green rather than going up up and away) with the new iPhone 4 coming out, it seems that we have started the personal video calling revolution.

Now, I'm aware a similar technology has existed via the internet for a while. Video chatting through Skype or iChat has become very popular, conference calls are now face-to-face meetings for companies that can afford it, and whether it's true or not, we all assumed that millionaires have been able to do this since the early 90's. If you know any, please find out if this is true; I always thought something was off about Richie Rich.

But this is bringing all that technology to your mobile phone. No need for a clunky computer, no setup required, all you need is a wifi signal and you're off. In other words, almost everywhere you go, you can now be seen and heard.

Now gentlemen, go ahead and cheer, but ladies, please stop and think for a moment. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning? 30 minutes? An hour? 2 even? Unless you are just naturally radiant when you first wake up (in which case, yes, we all hate you and want your secrets) you do not want ANYONE except the people you live with to see you until you are damn well ready.
Or what about at night? Maybe you have a certain someone you've been dying to talk to all day, but if you're not going to see him or her, who is really going to keep their makeup and push-up bra on for a phone conversation? No one.... unless you know you will be video chatting.

Phone calls allow women to create that mystery and slight illusion we have been practicing for centuries while still being accessible. Even if you get a 1 am bootycall, you still will have a good 10 minutes to perk yourself up.

Now again, this does not apply to the women who do not give in to the pressure of wearing bras and makeup and hair products, but for the 95% of us that do, we need a little warning before we are expected to look presentable. With video calling, that luxury will disappear. Sure, you can reject the video request, but who wants to be rude?
Ever answer a phone call leaving the gym? Getting out of the shower? SLEEPING? Did you really want the person you were talking to to see you?

As Chris Rock says, men lie big, but women lie a lot about the little things. Our hair color, height, skin tone, boob perkiness level, we all try to upgrade a little for the sake of some feminine mystique. The truly sexy women of the world know you ALWAYS leave a little to the imagination.

Feminine mystique was dealt a good blow with high-def. I'm pretty sure not even Megan Fox wanted her pores in high-def on the 30-foot screen. Instead of just having their fashion picked apart on the red carpet, stars now have to worry about the camera catching a slightly puffy eye, a frizzy out-of-place hair, a bead of sweat from the harsh lights. The camera sees it all.

And now, thanks to video phones, everyone who has your number will too.

I know this will only be available to iPhone4 owners, but look at all the phones that came from other companies in the wake of Apple. Now almost every phone has a touch screen, email, and facebook applications. In 3 years, who's to say just how many people will own a phone with video capabilities?

Just like ladies are wondering now where all the gentlemen of the world went, men are going to start to wonder where all the mysterious women of the world went. And if Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, and the Scooby-Doo Gang were to investigate, they would all land on the same answer:

Blame Steve Jobs.

Acting is my Stalker

Hello, my little monkeys. Miss me? No? Pssssh, whatever. Not like I care...

The reason I have been away from this blog for so long is because, honestly, (can't believe I'm going to admit this) I.... I.... I have been questioning my desire to be an actor.
Now, don't get me wrong. In the past, I have been frustrated, I have been angry, I have questioned my talent, but I have never, NEVER, questioned my want of this profession and this life.

This, quite simply, scared me. I could elaborate, but please do not underestimate just how much this frightened me.

You know what every acting teacher says. If you can see yourself doing something else for a living, DO IT. If you don't have a burning need to be an actor, DON'T. Make room for the people who do want it, and save yourself a lifetime of rejection.

So, after a lot of thought (and a little therapy) I decided to take a break and go to Africa and volunteer. Get away from NY, figure things out while doing something good for the world.

What's that? Running away? No, of course I'm not, um, running away. I'm.... uh....
Ok, running may be a part of it, but I also would truly like to do a big volunteer project before I die... and make one last effort at getting tan. If I don't get tan in Ghana, it's hopeless.

Anyway, so I have just been focusing on work at the bar, moving into my very OWN apartment, and planning this trip, when two amazing things happened in very close succession.

At the bar where I work, there is karaoke 3 nights a week. I love working these nights because it's not crazy busy, and I LOVE doing karaoke. (don't tell me you didn't see that coming)
One of the bartenders can't sing, so I go up there with him to provide backup and snarky comments to the song lyrics and we have a great time.
I'm telling you this because about a week ago, I was working in the bar and this woman came up to me, and I will now try to recreate the conversation for you, including my thoughts at the time:

Woman: Excuse me, (noise of the bar) Mustang Sally?
Me: Um, what?
Woman: Did you sing Mustang Sally?
Me: Oh, haha, at karaoke? Yeah, that was me. (seriously? is this woman crazy?)
Woman: Oh, good. I just wanted to tell you I thought you had amazing stage presence and very good comedic timing.
Me: Aw, thank you, I was just trying to back up Smitty. You should get up there and sing! (wow, those are very specific compliments. at karaoke? she must be drunk)
Woman: You are sooo pretty! You looked so pretty up there.
Me: Thank you, that's so sweet. (oh she's nice. i know.)
Woman: Listen, I work at a talent management company. When you get a minute, come find me, I'd like to talk to you.
Me: Oh!.... Ok, you got it. (WSKJFBujbiulhsuiIUBGIGBISFBILF!!!!!?????)

So, obviously, I went and talked to her, and she wants me to come in and audition for her to represent me.
Now, I know what you're thinking, but I did my research. She's legit. And I'm going in to audition in a week.
Now, this may seem like a normal step in an actor's life, but let me remind you, I decided to take a break. This happened out of the blue at frickin KARAOKE.

On a completely different track, my best friend has formed an alliance with a movie producer (small-time but that's good because he'll actually listen to us and incorporate our opinion) and is putting together a series of short films about... well.... some really messed-up people. I did makeup for one of the short films and it actually looked pretty damn good. So now they're using me to do all the makeup for all the films which is awesome.

As you may or may not know, I have a bit of an obsession with serial killers. I love reading about them, watching movies, finding out about their sick, twisted minds, etc. I guess you could say it's a hobby. So, I've been the team's twisted adviser in addition to makeup artist.

Now, the producer came over the other day to discuss the possibility of turning the series into an actual TV show. My immediate response was that there must be a 'hook'. There must be something different. Ex: Dexter. Serial killer.... of serial killers. So he's a good guy. That's interesting.
A while ago we had discussed me playing a victim in the one of the films. Somehow over about 30 minutes of brainstorming, we had combined two classic thousand-year-old stories into an idea. Now, I would love to tell you, but someone might steal it (tiny chance, I know, but hey-ho people are crazy). Suffice to say, I somehow talked out an idea where the show would star.... ME. As the victim.
Nothing is set in stone yet, but just as a possibility... wow.

Now, let me remind you AGAIN, I chose to leave this life behind for a while. I had no intentions of taking another shot at this for at least a few months, but somehow, it followed me.

Now, I'm a big believer in everything happening for a reason. If these things had not happened so close together, I might have written it off as a fluke. But they both happened right when I needed it most, when I was at my shakiest as an artist. There is no way this did NOT happen for a very specific reason.

I think the Universe is telling me that I was on the right path. That this is the life for me. To not give up, to keep trying and fight through the dark because this is the existence I was supposed to have. That I am an artist.

I think the Universe is telling me not to run.