Blahgavad Gita

and away we go.

2011-01-19T23:49:00.001-08:00

i made this.

2010-07-05T23:57:00.000-07:00

An Outrageously Ambitious List of Goals (Part I)

2010-07-04T16:01:00.000-07:00

as i sat here on the couch (which has also served as my bed for the past week) this afternoon, i half listened to my boyfriend kevin, as he talked on the phone with a friend of ours.

"how's liz? she's...you know how when people get really old and you keep all the stuff they need really close to them so they're surrounded by all their shit? that's what she looks like. no, it's...cute."

i slapped down my US Weekly, suddenly no longer interested in What Bachelorette Ali Is Hiding and embarrassed at having chosen to read that when i am flanked by Meditation As Medicine, I Am Nujood: Age 10 And Divorced, and the Michel Thomas Method on Speaking French. upon breaking my foot, i was determined to see it as an opportunity to get it all done - to reinspire my curiosity in the world and to roll around in learning like a pig in shit.

so today, after reading about 30 online lists such as Photoshop Disasters, What White Celebrities Would Look Like As African Americans, and the 35 Coolest Toilets In The World, i got the feeling that i might just be spinning my wheels. so maybe it's time to utilize this recovery time. so, i have decided to make an (drumroll)

OUTRAGEOUSLY AMBITIOUS LIST OF GOALS!

1. learn French
2. read 1 book a week
3. memorize all my lines for To Kill A Mockingbird
4. make a ten-year plan
5. figure out what to do with my life after September 27
6. learn to sew/make my own clothes
7. meditate
8. yoga every day again (once my body will let me)
9. write a play

now that i write it out, that doesn't seem like OUTRAGEOUS. in fact, it doesn't even seem unreasonable. if i treat myself like i'm being home-schooled, it actually appears as though i could get all this done pretty easily by the time i'm healed. i mean the learning French thing, that we'll just have to try hard at and see how it goes, but still. and the play...well, it doesn't have to be a LONG play, and i could actually work on an adaptation i've had in my head for a couple years. one to two hours for everything else and i should be good. right?

Father and Daughter

2010-07-03T12:37:00.000-07:00

AND NOW YOU KNOW THE MOVIE! : Magicke Edition

2010-07-02T08:48:00.000-07:00

it can be difficult identifying the plotlines for hollywood films, even as you are watching them. with a few simple tricks, you can learn just what movie you're being sold, and the intricate twists and turns it may take! a quick study, and you too can KNOW THE MOVIE!

#1 - the serif font suggests a playful, Harry Potter-type lead character who "just wants to be a normal kid" in the san fernando valley, but realizes through coming-of-age that his destiny is to be a lightning-wielding hero of the ages. and he has to protect those mountains over there. he'll go through doubts in himself, personal ridicule from misunderstanding peers and parents, and probably have to make a choice between what he wants and what is important (i.e. cute blonde from popular film of last year).

#2 - this sans-serif, all caps title suggests destiny is not fucking around. also, the title is at the bottom, which suggests you should think that M. Night Shyamalan's involvement should somehow trump whatever the film's content will be. photo suggests this hero is asian, which means he will also have to overcome the fact hat he is smarter, faster, and better at martial arts thank the rest of the world, and will then realize it about his mentor, who might not be asian. but because his heritage is more exotic, he has a castle to protect, and not mountains, and because the stakes are higher there, we can whittle out the girl factor, since America isn't ready to see a romance about someone who is asian. the struggle with destiny will be with himself, and with the voiceover of his master mentor, who will die two-thirds through the movie. in 3D.

#3 - this font wants to appeal to the Mortal Kombat lover inside you to get you in the theatre, and then give you a super wedgie when you realize in the credits it's a disney movie. but to disney's credit, this poster works hardest of all. nicholas cage's hair extensions tell a story all their own. LOOK! he's a SORCERER. he's a little unkempt, ok? yes, that's his duster he used to wear in FFA in high school it STILL FITS. it means he has a PAST he clings to even though he guards it with cold, unfeeling disciplinary magic action towards his apprentice, who "just wants to be a normal kid" in new york city but realizes through coming-of-age that his destiny is to be a magic-light-ball-wielding hero of the ages. and he has to protect those skyscrapers over there. he'll go through doubts in himself, personal ridicule from misunderstanding peers and parents, and probably have to make a choice between what he wants and what is important (i.e. cute blonde from popular film of last year). and the dragon font means that at some point there will be an actual dragon at some point, probably in act III. it will be alluded to for a long time and show up UNEXPECTEDLY! probably released by a villian who was awakened by the apprentice's 18th birthday. but it'll go ok and nic cage will unlock the secrets of the apprentice's mysterious past and turn out to be his uncle who was actually secretly in love with the boy's mother, because being his father would be too obvious, and a brooding, unrequited love builds trust in our minds and nicely sets up the sequel.

and now you know the movie! in our next edition: what the "REDBOLDblackthin" title font does to your subconscious on the posters for slightly risque romantic comedies.

* triptych and ridicule courtesy of suzanne goldish.

things i don't understand (a working list)

2010-06-27T23:12:00.000-07:00

-The Pina Colada Song
-people who flash peace signs with pursed lips in every photo.
-people who like cats.
-people who growl at their dogs as if they are speaking the same language.
-my boyfriend.*
-farmville.
-my emotional spectrum in any given half-hour.*
-twitter.
-Don't You Want Me
-baby powder.
-reggae music.
-how humans did this.

*i'm working on understanding these. they are not, i think, unrelated.

from the bottom of my broken foot

2010-06-27T11:09:00.000-07:00

we area half an hour into learning the second half of the ladies' entrance dance for Love's Labors Lost. i have been on cloud nine for weeks, having gone through a Shakespeare intensive and been cast in this production by Shakespeare Santa Monica, whose company members produced Pericles Redux at the Kirk Douglas earlier this year, quite possibly the greatest theatrical endeavor i have seen in the last 7 years. i am thrilled to be able to cross Rosaline off my "Shakespearean Dream Roles" list and am pretty psyched at how quickly i'm picking up all the movement pieces. we pair off to come up with a couple of new 8 counts, and i immediately run to Anna, who is a former ballerina, convinced we can come up with something stupid awesome and show everyone up. i was half right.

anna executed a beautiful chanee turn into a stag leap. when anna does it (and when i do it in my mind), a stag leap looks like this:

looks pretty advanced, right? yeah.

i made an offhanded joke about my lack of skill, but attempted it anyway from a standing position, and while it was more like a fawn-walking-for-the-first-time-jump as opposed to a stag leap, it was ok enough for us agree to add it in and put it in the combination. so we chianeed accross the floor into the leap, and upon my landing, there was a roll onto the outside of my right foot. and then...i heard a pop.

i have never broken a bone before, and i am sure as i sit on he rehearsal studio floor this is still the case. i'm not in a lot of pain, but i certainly can't put any weight on it. so i sit for awhile, thinking that maybe it will go away, right? a few cast members come up to me, and the dancers, i notice, all have the same expression on their faces. a kind of, "i don't want to worry you, but..." kind of thing. so i start calling my boyfriend, getting a little panicked. unfortunately for me, it's 10:30am and he won't be awake for another 2 hours. so after an hour of phone calls, i'm able to secure a ride home. by this point, my foot looks like this:

now i'm a little freaked out. even more so when the free clinic i've hobbled into is no longer taking walk-ins that day. so i have little choice but to go home and wait until the next day to try to get an appointment somewhere. after a trip to rite-aid, the boyfriend begins me on the ice bath treatment. having a lot of experience in sports related injuries, he brings me a tub of ice water and tells me to stick my foot in it. FOR 10 MINUTES. if this is something you haven't done, just try sticking your finger in a glass of ice water and leave it in as long as you can. now multiply that awful fucking pain by the number of minutes you THOUGHT you were going o be able to handle. it's awful. but what is worse, is that we must do it 3 or 4 times before wrapping my foot in an ace bandage and keeping it elevated to drain the blood and reduce the swelling. i sleep on the couch with my foot up on a stack of pillows. fuck this.

next day, after another failed clinic adventure, the boyfriend makes an appointment for an x-ray. and to spare you the hobbling details, this is what they give me:

broken. very, very broken. a complex fracture of the 5th metatarsal to be exact. complex because the bone is so displaced, that it has likely torn soft tissue in the foot. what does this mean? it means, friends, that i will likely have to undergo surgery to reset the bone, and will be in a cast for upwards of two months. i will be unable to work (i was waiting tables and in a theatrical performance on weekends that requires stairs and a heavy bag). so it looks like i'll be getting to those regular blog posts after all!

and hey, i did want a change of pace. i didn't anticipate the pace would slow to immobile, but hey. maybe i should have been more specific.

and who knows? i may have the greatest two months of my life. i've decided that my movie watching will have a crippled theme: Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, Rear Window, An Affair to Remember, Misery, My Left Foot...i will draw inspiration from my hobbled people.

so stay tuned, as who the hell knows what will come out of this. and here's the view from here.

no excuses

2010-04-20T13:41:00.000-07:00

so yesterday i explored the internet for possible bomb shelters of inspiration to dive into in the very likely event that i would insist i had no idea what to write about and would then fulfill that statement and quit before i started. so i came across dictionary.com's Word of the Day. i didn't anticipate using my lifeline so early in the game, but nonetheless, todays word:

agrestic \uh-GRES-tik\ , adjective. 1. Pertaining to fields or the country; rural; rustic.nice word, right?  i liked it, too.  unfortunately, it is also the name of the subdivision that houses Nancy Botwin on Weeds, a show that employs some friends of mine.  in the writer's room.  which, if you read yesterday's post, reminded me of unglamorous reason #1 of why i have been putting off writing at all.

so in the interest of inflation of mojo, i will finally commit to writing the story of what may be the greatest day of my life, and continues to be something people stay curious in over and over and over again, which blows away all 5 reasons of why i'd put it off.

so, i wrote for three hours and didn't even finish the entry.  this is hard, and i am in love with it. 

more to come.

a writer writes. right?

2010-04-19T15:29:00.000-07:00

oh. hello.

it has recently been suggested to me (by a couple different people) that i take up writing. it's not something i'm in a great habit of doing, for a number of unglamorous reasons.

1. i really have a strong distaste for the phrase, "i think i'm going to get into ______." it suggests to me a disrespect to people who are actually trained and practiced in whatever it is you seem to want to "get into". the sloppy word choice suggests that somehow anyone can do whatever it is (which is never true) and most times turns out to be something many personalities should just stay away from all together. you can probably agree that you wouldn't come out and say, "i think i'm going to get into cardiology". of course, physicians are likely to hear this from their peers, but it probably isn't a thought that should be pondered out loud by, say, an interior decorator with medical training failing to extend past the correct execution of the heimlich maneuver. so, knowing many writers i would never say i'm going to "get into writing", and because i don't say i'm going to do it i don't. so i'll just say "i'm writing" and release myself from self-judgment.

2. there's always the concern that no one is curious about what it is i may write about. this is not a good excuse, and is certainly one worth conquering.

3. there's always the concern that i may not be curious about what it is i may write about. this excuse is pretty good.

4. there's always a concern that there may be nothing to write ABOUT. this is never true, however, and i am perfectly capable of going on for days about nothing at all.

5. there isn't a fifth reason, i just like odd numbers.

so, with the only good reason to not write being that i am entertaining the possibility that i will not be curious about my own opinions, i think we can move on from here. shouldn't be difficult to find things to become curious about, as i have no answers to anything.

so, great! and now we see what happens.

300 love letters

2009-03-16T10:31:00.000-07:00

http://www.sleeptrip.com/300loveletters/2.html

Lost & Found & Found

2008-11-16T11:39:00.000-08:00

This morning I was packing old journals into storage in the closet of my new studio apartment. On the top shelf of the closet, I found this. Addressed to no one, and dated on my 30th birthday.

10.1.08
Dear.

i need help - not financial hep, but help that changes lives. I am lost. I am a horrible decision maker. I am pathetic and self loathed & an idiot.

I can't get ahead financially. Always in the negative & borrowing money from my parents that goes to waste.

I have nothing to show for my negative bank account.

I am 3 months behind on car payments, no rent money. 6,000 in medical bills and 3 months behind on all my bills.

Work is slow so I have no consistent cash flow coming in and if it does, it is eaten by overdraft fees.

I am dating a loser wo "needs me" or maybe cause he thinks I have money. I don't know why he dates me.

I feel pathetic and a loser myself. Bad things are happening to me - because I think bad things? because I left my good husband and I must pay for it?

What is going to happen to me?

In my mind, I want to be making enough money to catch up on all my bills, pay rent & car. Pay back my parents and Robert, and buy nice clothes so I don't have to keep wearing the same thing over & over.

I would like to have a nice savings account, a lap top, a TV, a couch, and a nice bed with two sets of sheets. I would like to trade my car in for an Audii.

I want to be 100% healthy. I will have an amazing guy a guy who respects me, loves me, cares & supports me, includes me in his life & who is motivated, strong, handsome, great in bed, drives, & who has his own independent life and gives me my space. A guy who wants me to know his friends because he is proud of his "beautiful woman".

I want to listen to great music, take fun exciting trips, vacations that each time (I) we go, I come back thinking "that was the best time I've ever had". Drink the best wine Dance like I've never danced (with grace, beauty, sultry & confidence).

I will also be happy to be alone.

Walk the neighborhood with peace inmy head & love in my heart, & bags of goodies for me & my loved ones.

I will continue to keep my fit figure. Small waist nice hips & butt, juicy thighs, I will get my arms slim and maybe even get a breast augmentation to a full B.

I will thank every day for my beautiful hair.

I will know I am a hard worker. I will overcome this absent minded attitude & be a huge asset to the amazing company I am with. I will be smart. I'll have small, fun business ventures on the side.

I will have a savings account fund for my nephew Matthew. Whom I love more than anything I've ever known. I will always take care of him.

I will make my parents proud & see that they are taken care of till their last days.

I will not focus on negative things. I will never again be the girl with the "woe is me" persona.

I am going to visit my grandparents a lot more. watch Dancing with the Stars w/ my grandma, go to church w/ my other grandparents.

I will play the piano & sew. I will be creative - I am creative.

I am not afraid of today or tomorrow.

I have been blessed with everything I need - I am loved, I have a family, support, a great job, a good car & nice figure, a few great girlfriends whom I will cherish & do anything for

I am healthy. I know how to eat healthy. I have a great sister who I can call anytime I need to talk & vice versa.

I am not afraid anymore. Cause I have just received the help I needed. The help is within me and all around me. I just had to ask & see. I just had to believe. I will take care of Lucy - always. I will still cry & be lonely at times, but know that I am not alone. I have me - who really is the strongest person I know. Things won't be as amazing as I know they will be overnight, but today, I am not afraid or sad, or miserable.

I feel a light within me. A light that I turned on. A light that I will keep on, always. I turned the switch. It's always been there. I will do my best everyday to love & love myself, to be smart work hard and be healthy & positive. I will do my best to help myself. Because I love myself & I will not let me drown.

Lucy Rodriguez*

*all names have been changed.

People Hate Lines, Reality

2008-08-20T10:35:00.000-07:00

I had the *extreme* pleasure of going to the airport a couple weeks ago. I actually don't dislike airports or the seemingly pointless pages of steps one must go through in order to board a plane. The reason I don't mind is because I arrive unbelievably early when I travel, usually by 3 hours. Many people think I'm nuts for it, and I am in a way. I get really touchy about time and keeping a schedule. Perhaps that's because my years of getting lost have taught me to leave twice as much time for transit in order to actually show up anywhere on time, but regardless being early is a part of my personality that I really like. If I'm NOT in a hurry - I don't mind lines, I don't mind pushy people with absolutely no awareness of their own personal space or that of others, I don't even mind removing nearly every piece of clothing and disposing of anything that was once in or at one time may return to liquid form. The greatest thing about it, though, is to observe the human being in its literal state of "fight or flight".

There was an incredibly long line at the ticketing counter to check bags for domestic flights. It got into one of those windy-topsy-turvy-neither-here-nor-there-type situations where it was a little confusing as to where the end of the line was. There was (and I feel like this rarely happens), an incredibly cheerful, helpful young lady with red hair directing this herd of idiots. Since I was (as always) obscenely early, I could maintain my own chipper attitude while other people arrived late and panicked, huffed around, and made all kinds of strange faces. While well informed, I opted not to tell anyone what the deal was, not only because I was consistently ignored (fine with me; I'm early), but also because I was extraordinarily entertained by the fact that everyone who approached this line thought there there was some way that they could be exempt from standing in it. The rules set up by the cute redhead in the blue vest were clear, yet somehow, the time spent before deciding to stand in the line became a strategy session for approximately 6 familes within a 20 minute period. Each conversation went like this:

Family leader: "Where do we...?"

Cute redhead: "This is the line to stand in if you are checking bags for a domestic flight."

Family leader: "What if we...?"

Cute redhead: "Where are you flying?"

Family leader: "We...Miami...does that m-"

Cute redhead: "Do you have bags to check?"

Family leader: "Yes, but we..."

Cute redhead: "The end is just down that way."

Family leader: "Where is the line if we checked in online?"

Cute redhead: "This is the line."

Family leader: (sharing a sigh and a look with Family second in command, who is wrangling the children and their Hannah Montana suitcases) "No, we checked in onli-"

Cute redhead: "If you're checking bags, this is the line you stand in. This is the line everyone is standing in."

But people continued to believe that there was some other line, some HIDDEN line that they were going to have to give a password to find. Maybe slip the redhead a 20 and she'd send them through the plastic window of the baggage claim carousel where George Clooney would be waiting to take their bags and read to their kids while they sipped bloody marys in the Executive Lounge.

It was amazing how hard they were trying to avoid it. While I am certainly not innocent of complaining about waiting for something, I started to think, what's so bad about standing in a line? I mean, you're just standing there. And if you're not standing in this line, you're standing in the security line, and if you're not in that one you're wrestling elbows with everyone trying to get ONE person ahead as they board rows 15 and higher and once on the place you're still waiting for some jackass who's trying to sandwich a foot locker into the overhead bin - and he didn't check it why? Because he was trying to get out of standing in line! So what is the point of putting off the inevitable? If you have to stand in lines all fucking day, why not look at them as something more productive than an inconvenience?

And I think I should take this observation to all areas of my life. Patience has never been a huge virtue of mine, which is way I allot 5 hours to get anything done. But if I could just stop complaining and take a look around, stop feeling so entitled and put-upon, maybe next time the people around me wouldn't mind the wait either. And wouldn't that be nice?

What have you done with Liz?

2008-04-04T10:14:00.000-07:00

The body is shaped, disciplined, honored, and in time, trusted.
-Martha Graham

Without discipline, there's no life at all.
-Katherine Hepburn

You lack discipline.
-Detective John Kimball, Kindergarten Cop

The strict schedule I've been following (details below) is fantastically exciting and a lot more fun than I anticipated. The evenings invite the most challenges, whether it's staying up past 11 or choosing study over board games with friends; it's been kind of a solitary existence. That, I think, is probably necessary at this stage. The tension it's relieving is off the charts, though.

I was on my mat at 6:30 am waiting for yoga to start when a along came a spider and sat down beside her. Her being me. Now, anyone who has ever even heard me talk about spiders or watched me writhe as the mere thought of them crawls beneath my skull and tickles my brain...KNOWS that I hate them. But sitting thereon the mat, I saw the thing and noticed for the first time what a delicate frame it had. My heart didn't react in the least, but my mind began running laps around the studio. I should get rid of it well I can't kill it on my mat and maybe I can just well I can get a piece of paper and scoop but there's no paper maybe I'll... And as these thoughts were forming into sentences in my rational mind, my hands had already descended to the mat and were gently inviting the spider into my hand. I cupped it IN MY PALMS (for Chrissakes) and carried it to the lobby where I released it onto the patio, my brain STILL trying to decide the best way to handle the situation. It wasn't until I had already let it go that I realized what had happened. I had kind and loving thoughts toward something that, on any other day previous, would have sent me screaming to the other side of the room.

Subtler but just-as-significant changes:

drinking green tea at work instead of tea (I hate green tea)
tons of energy all day and in a fantastic mood
more quick-witted
remembering my dreams
consciousness of breath
"standing outside" my emotional reactions with a greater control of their effect on my heartbeat and my words
better food choices in appropriate portions
new-found respect for the body's ability to execute physical activity (providing that my treatment of the body is respectful)
better posture
conscious awareness of the body in space and physical touch
increased sensory awareness
more compassion
patience
give better hugs (and more often)

The schedule:

Um...what?

2008-03-31T15:48:00.000-07:00

Looking for a Spiritual Advisor or Witch to help me book an audition

Reply to: xxxxxxxxx@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-03-28, 11:02PM

Hello, I have been out here for a few years and have not really booked anything, so I am hoping to try some alternative methods. One of my friends suggested I get into white magic, but I think I should find a expert or someone who knows what they are doing. My audition is on Wednesday, so if you could write me with whatever idea/spell you have to help me that would be great, because like I said I have never done this before. I can pay 100 bucks, maybe 130, but that is all I have right now. Thanks

Location: Los Angeles
Compensation: 100
Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster.
Please, no phone calls about this job!
Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaah...

2008-03-26T21:04:00.000-07:00

Having gotten that awful rant out of my system feels like I took a really great poop.

In training we're learning that the mind is most absorbent to new information while in a relaxed and easeful state. As was obviously not the case with me, I was panicked about every aspect of my new schedule: juggling auditions with my new job, leaving early for class, going to yoga at 6am to fulfill requirements, personal practice...even alone time freaked me out.

Of course, the state of mind I am in when I enter a casting office is hardly ever so angry I can barely function. Sometimes it's a lot of fun. Obviously, were I booking all these jobs I pooh-pooh, my opinion of their role in my life would be far less dramatic and looked upon with much more humor. This is, perhaps if not certainly, the REASON I am not booking any jobs. So there, self.

After a rough time back in old New York, I told myself that I wasn't going to do anything from then on unless it was fun & easy. For two years after I made that promise, everything WAS. I invited it in, and recently I think I accidentally asked it to leave. People throw a lot of speculation as to why it sometimes seems in our nature to sabotage our own success. I happen to share the opinion of those who believe we are far more afraid of being happy than we are unwilling to be miserable. With happiness and clarity comes a feeling of great responsibility, and add the pressure of feeling you might actually have something to do with the way events transpire and that you can choose how you feel - and damn. That's heady shit. No wonder we don't want to deal with it, right? It's a lot easier to just deal what you've told yourself you got than to get your hopes up for something better.

OK, I don't know how I got off on this tangent, but the point is that I find myself incredibly boring when I'm unhappy and I also don't love being bored. Since I'm with myself all day every day, this poses a pretty big problem. There's value in finding humor in a bad situation, but creating a bad situation just for a joke is hardly healthy. But if I have to take myself incredibly seriously one day just to be able to say I don't want to be that way the next, then that's all a part of the process. Plus, getting pissed feels really good.

The other point is...I'm happy and I know it.

(clap, clap.)

Commercially Desireable

2008-03-26T12:24:00.000-07:00

Nice work if you can get it, but the truth about commercials is the audition process is one of the most infuriating of all theatrical endeavors.

First, I have to deal with breakdown. Once over the joy of actually GETTING an appointment, I have to face the grim and often humiliating description of the character for which I will read. Many times, it is a single word, “wife”. I can look past the fact that I am single and unmarried (and happily so) without a furrowed brow to read the sides, but it is the more detailed descriptions that give me pause.

“Mother of twins”. I sigh heavily upon reading this one, as I am 28 and childless and have no concept of the strength and patience it requires to be the mother of twins, even in TV land. The twins are always 10 in these commercials, and it makes me think I either look like I’m 38 or like I gave birth at 13.

“Slightly character”. I actually like this one, because it gives you free reign to be funny or “OFF BEAT” as another breakdown would note. What it really means, though, is “Slightly bad-looking”, which I also don’t mind because it takes the pressure off being “Slightly emaciated”. This way, I can eat a bagel and not wonder if I’m going to starve either because I’m not supposed to eat a bagel or because I can’t get a commercial job.

“TONS of diologue”. One line.

“Must be GREAT at Improv”. No improv allowed.

“Caucasian”. Oh wait, that’s ALL of them.

“Slightly less-than-average looks. Slightly overweight.” Still not over this one, obviously.

Then there’s the actual audition, which usually involves a 45 minute-1 ½ hour drive to Santa Monica. After arriving in the neighborhood and navigating through the “NO ACTOR PARKING” signs that pepper the windows, I park 8 blocks away and with headshot in hand, proceed to the sign-in. There are actors everywhere, muttering and powdering their noses, checking out everyone in the room. Inevitably, there are 6 people in line waiting for one actor to enter pages of information into a computer that will then spit out a barcode, which is to be used by the actor to identify themselves in the audition. Yes, a barcode. While I kind of love this barcode idea, as it certainly does expedite the process, in the line of 6 actors, one of them will be cross-armed and making a pouty remark about a retinal scan and another will agree on how impersonal it is. I ignore them, when what I really want to do is remind them that their one line is about all-in-one turf builder, and does that really require soul-searching to deliver effectively?

I sit down and wait for the moderator to come out and bring us all in for a group explanation, which is basically a lot of common sense and would not be necessary if the clients or casting office would simply SUPPLY the material before we arrive, which they don’t. Instead they ask us to “come early” so we can spend time with the material, which is really easy because we all live in Santa Monica. A young lady rushes in, her heels clicking on the tile floor. The moderator of her session tries “slightly-less-than" hard to conceal a rolling of the eyes, as the young woman harriedly and politely asks to be moved up in the line, due to time. Now it is her fellow actresses who roll their eyes, because, while having no day jobs to return to, will now be late to have their roots done, which, by the way, they desperately need.

I read the material. The mother of twins is speaking from her driveway about the magic of Christmas and the even more globally powerful magic of Wal-Mart, which, by the way, refuses to pay health benefits to employees and suggests they go on welfare. Not Twins Mom, though! She cheerfully explains to the camera that because she has twins, there will be a merry Christmas only if the twin boys each get identical presents, all of which are available at Wal-Mart. Two of everything. Simply put, a passive-aggressive attempt at calming the twins into submission by separating them from their need to share ONE toy and thus be a fully-functioning member of society. One of my lines is actually, “Hey, world peace sounds great and everything, but it’s not happening in MY house unless I get two of everything!”

I suddenly hate myself.

We are all called in to the group explanation, which I’ve always felt is the casting director’s one attempt to show everyone either how insightful they are or what a fantastic personality they have, neither or which are true or brief. The fact that the ad is massively offensive, materialistic, and insulting to all mankind seems to bother no one. The word “like” is dropped approximately 33 times in as many seconds, while actors laugh at the lame jokes and like, and beam smiles that demand “NOTICE ME!" When the explanation has finally reached its scintillating climax, everyone exits but me, and I wait on my mark to slate my name.

And then I get nervous.

With all the bitterness and sarcasm, it turns out I actually do care what people think. I care what this casting director thinks of my ability, I care what my agency will hear from them, I care how I will feel about myself on the 45-minute drive home. I would really like to say it doesn’t matter; that commercials are pointless and degrading marketing tools to fool satisfied people into thinking they are otherwise; that it makes no difference how I prepare because the clients don’t know what they want anyway – and I’d be right about all those things. But somewhere in that little moment between breaths I say my own name, and everything changes.

This, I think, is the most infuriating thing of all.

Being Here

2008-03-21T23:54:00.000-07:00

a great many changes have been swirling around in my life of late, but none more important than my beginning yoga teacher training. the first class was tonight, and how fortuitous that it should be today, which must be one of the most hectic, stressful, and retardedly harried days i can remember having in over a year. of course, it was never my day's intention, though it did seem to be mine.

oh, aren't i so INteresting?

the point, without fluff, is that i made my day what it was. even as it happened i could easily tell myself i was overreacting to situations and making things far more important and negative than they actually were. and as tired as i am, i know this experience will be more rewarding to me if i write it all down.

this training - i learned today - is not going to be easy. it is going to require more discipline that i would ever flatter myself with thinking i possessed. forget doing the poses - can anyone remember how long ago they made flashcards or an outline? well, good for you. i CAN'T. i don't think i did even when i knew how. ugh. ok, i'm getting off the...well, what the hell is the point?

ok, i think i remember. there were a lot of things discussed this evening, but more than anything in the reading or in the stories of our instructor's discovery of herself with the practice (and they were many and beautiful), i think i found the greatest lesson in something a student shared.

getting somewhere else is a direct result of being where you are now.

how simple and amazing! and not "now" like "this week", but NOW. THIS moment. and our teacher added inspirational bliss to pleasure by telling us that she as a teacher had never told a student something they didn't already know inherently. that you treat a student as you would yourself, because we are all the same; i am you, you are me. and that we DO know the answer to any question we seek to ask. and all of this training, all of the yogic practice, is to service the deepening of our relationship to those answers, to our own intuitive voices.

you already know what to do.

it was lost on me for a moment until i realized that that statement was why i was in that room in the first place.

then i tried not to fart and think about how hungry i was. but then, it was day 1.

namaste.

I'd rather be unemployed.

2008-02-08T12:55:00.000-08:00

Resaptionist

Reply to: mher7777@yahoo.com
Date: 2008-02-08, 12:46PM PST

Front desk resaptionist, which she can do data intery answering phone reply to e-mails. For more info call (818)822-8252

Unenjoyment

2008-02-06T08:23:00.000-08:00

Amidst a job search, I find myself slipping into a mild, molasses-like state of depression. I look at my college education and my two and a half page resume and then find myself fighting dozens to help a 7th grade teacher grade papers for 5 hours on Thursday night. Just THIS Thursday, by the way. Craigslist is a strange beast, and while I wish there were a better way (suggstions are welcome), there is a bizarre satisfaction it delivers in the posts I know I won't be responding to. Especially since I'm particularly fond of grammatical errors (which are in boldface). Here we are:

Actress/Models needed
Reply to: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Date: 2008-01-31, 12:30PM PST

Feature film requires two girls (1 Blonde and 1 Brunette) MUST HAVE GREAT BODIES in that you will be doubling for the two lead actress's. They are star names, so your face will never be shown. PICK-UP shots include a light sex scene and then laying dead, along with a couple of walking shots. Upon our meeting you will be able to review stoyboards to know exactly what will be shot.

This shoots : Feb. 10th

Please attach photo and contact info with response.

* Compensation: $250.00 -$500.00 per day.

Wow. Getting naked, having simulated sex, your face is never shown, AND you get 250 bones? SIGN ME UP! I'm sure whatever the filmmakers lack in grade-school education they make up for in douche-baggery. Who are these "name" actresses? If they're so appealing, why keep their names a mystery? Also, I can recognize the argument that actress's [sic] calls back to the subject of BODIES, but come on. The correct grammar is still actresses'. Spell-check (and grammar check, I might add) is not only very accessible, but I think you'd be hard-pressed to find a computer that WON'T give you suggestions for words like "stoyboards" automatically. Also, learn to use an apostrophe, for GOD'S SAKE.

Here's a quick lesson:

You use an apostrophe if the subject is possessive.

EXAMPLE:

The CD's cover looked great!

You can also use an apostrophe if it is being used as a conjunction between "it" and "is".

EXAMPLE:

You can also use an apostrophe if it's being used as a conjunction between "it" and "is".

You do NOT use an apostrophe to make a singular word plural.*

EXAMPLE OF MISUSE (see if you can also spot the spelling error. it's tricky.):

EXAMPLE OF MISUSE:

Don't even get me fucking started on the misuse of "quotes". Uuuuugh.

*YES, I even have footnotes. An apostrophe is sometimes used in the case of plurals, but only to make a plural or singular subject ending in S possessive.

EXAMPLE of correct use of singular subject possessive apostrophe (when the singular subject ends in s):

Mr. Jones' epidermis was showing at the polo match.

EXAMPLE of correct use of a singular possessive apostrophe (when the subject does not end in s) and a non-conjunctive possessive without an apostrophe (its):

The monkey's banana was up its own ass.

EXAMPLE of correct use of plural possessive apostrophe:

The monkeys' bananas were up their own asses.

Google it.