Pressure

My acting class has recently ended. I’m making enough money babysitting that I can pay the rent and not starve. I have gone on a couple of auditions, including one where I got a call back, that have gone smoothly. So now there are no more excuses:

Bring on the pressure.



Oh shit. I hope the pressure I’m about to put myself under involves a lot less water, creepy black and white videos, and convulsing in chairs.

(See what I mean about Billy not teaching all that relevant of life lessons in his music?)

The pressure I’m looking to put myself under is jumping into the world of doing seminars and workshops with casting directors and industry professionals.

What it is, for people, out of the know, is this system where you pay a certain amount of money to do monologues, scenes, or some other acting stuff in front of professionals who carry marginal amount of weight with different shows, networks, agencies, ect. Some of the time they also give helpful advise and such, but mostly you just do it for the 1 in 50 chance that they might remember you or take a liking to you and call you in for an audition that you have a 1 in 100 chance of booking that may lead to a 1 in 1000 chance to you making it big.

I’m rethinking things; a trippy psychedelic music video sounds like a great life. Especially if at one point I get to win a fake game show.

Of course it doesn’t end with the seminar/workshop/class. If you really want them to remember you, you gotta’ lay on your charm and follow up with inundating them with your resume. They’ll probably convince me, while they’re at it, that I need to invest in new head shots and post cards. Oh joy.

Joel better propose to me fast so I can get in on some of that money.

Well, right now I'm still looking into which group I want to join, and even then I’ll still have to audition and such. Once in that group I can look through their options and start the whole process. I’ll keep ya’ll updated.

On a side note- in the part of the music video where Billy is a game show contest it says "William Joel, age 29". Which is a big fat lie, cause everybody knows that when Nylon Curtain (the album featuring “Pressure”) came out in 1982 he was 33 years old. And to think he was singing the praises of “Honesty” as early as 1978 in 52nd Street.

I forgive you Billy, after all you're only human.

All You Wanna Do is Dance

You don't want to deal with the future,
You don't want to make any plans
Oh, baby, all you wanna do is dance.

Sittercity is a website that allows parents to pay to find babysitters either by placing an advertisment, or, more frequently, to browse though a list of sitters living near by, read their profiles and references, and call them up and use them. This second option only happened to me once, and I have been nannying that young padawan ever since.

(Hughie can't write yet; but imagine the first sentence he can write will be this)

Well, that anomaly was true until three and half weeks ago when I moved to Soho. Since changing my zip code on sittercity, my profile has me down as being less than a mile away from Tribeca, Soho, Union Square and West Village (A.K.A wealthy families with babies galore). I couldn’t be in a better sitting location, unless, you know, I moved uptown.

In the four months that I was living in that L.E.S. rat hole I had had one job offer. Since moving to the 10012, I have become the favorite sitter for four different families. FOUR! I haven’t even been here that many weeks! I didn't even have to lift a finger; they all found me.

Of course, just because my zip code is baller, and has allowed me to become Sittercity’s MVP of Tribeca, doesn’t mean that I’ve gotten a second permanent real job...

I’ve taken to blitzing stores.

I print out the applications to work at those big chain stores on Broadway, staple a cover letter and resume, and I just drop them off with the managers. A clearly written “we’re hiring” or craigslist ad be damned! I will give you my resume whether you're hiring or not. I certainly have all the same qualifications any of those people working at the Old Navy, if not more.

Especially, if you consider the fact that my resume is “enhanced” half the time...

Moving on past my indiscretions, and right on to some good news:

When I started this blog I wanted it to be about my struggles as an actress in New York. I wanted this blog to be a place where I kept my memories of an actress so that I could use them for my subsequent memoirs, books, movies, and E! True Hollywood Story. As of late, is has mostly been a blog about the troubles of being a young girl without a college degree just trying to survive the big city during a recession. That, and occasionally it’s a poor man’s Uptown Girls (R.I.P. Britney) and Nanny Diaries. While those stories are fun in their own right; they aren’t the kind of stuff “True Hollywood Stories” are made of.

Therefore, I am glad to announce that this week marks my return to auditioning. I already have two lined up for the end of week/early next week, and plan to have many more to come. While I may want to dance, Joel, I am dealing with my future and making plans, so get off my back.

Zanzibar

I went to see a Psychic today. I’m going to live to be 87 and I’m moving across the ocean within the next year.

I guess I should start at the beginning of the story. Try to imagine this as the beginning of a pretty cheesy Chick Flick. After a bottle (or two) of wine last night a friend brought up the idea that she wanted to go see a psychic. I’m not sure why, but this sounded like a brilliant idea.

Cut to the two of us, plus one other friend, standing outside a building near Union Square trying to buzz the apartment number where a psychic supposedly worked. When the spiritual adviser didn’t answer we ended up calling the number on his sign. He wasn’t in but offered to do a phone reading; we politely declined. We don’t trust palm readers who can’t see our palms; “spiritual advisor” or not.

And this point we were pretty determined though. Our palms were just itching to be read. So off we went to Veronica on St. Mark’s Place.

Veronica’s shop is above a t-shirt place (or something I didn’t get a good look). We went to ring her doorbell only to see that there was a sign saying that the bell wasn’t working. We were about to knock when, low and behold, the door opened! That’s some serious ESP there.

Her husband let us in as he went back to watching TV with her kid in the other room.Did I mention that her store front was just a tiny room with a table and two chairs attached to her apartment? Well, it was.

She gave us a group discount for palm readings and I decided to go first. She told me right away that I was going to live a long life and die at 87; I thought this was pretty great at first, but then she told the other girls when it was their turns that they were going to live to be 89 and 90, so than I was mourning the loss of a couple of potential lost golden years.

I wont bore you with all of the details of my reading; some of it probably only I would find interesting, but I’ll give break it down, and give you some highlights.

Career:

I’m a creative person whose talents have great potential. I was disappointed with my last year, but opportunities are approaching. In the near future I will have the chance to choose among 3 different careers. Two that would keep me in New York and one that would take me over seas. She sees some negativity in my energy that may stop or deter the fruits of my talent (I’m thinking she could sense how distressed I am about this season of Lost; it is a very confusing area in my life right now).

Love:

I am in a cycle of choosing men where the relationship is doomed before it began (I’m really hoping that she’s just cynical of Billy because things didn’t work out with Christie and his last wife). I’m going to have a summer relationship, but it won’t bloom into anything (note to self: don’t start dating Joseph Gordan-Levitt this summer). In order to break this cycle I’ll need to get rid of that negativity she saw in my life and will need to find spiritual enlightenment.

So if in one year’s time I’ve had a summer fling, moved to Zanzibar, and have joined a cult religion, please don’t be alarmed. It’s my destiny.

Back to how this relates to my Chick Flick. My friends then got their palms read. One of them is going to be involved in a love triangle within the next 9 months and she needs to choose wisely. In her career she needs to find a way to mix her creativity with her business talents (business talents none of us knew she possessed). The other will have three serious relationships, one learning, one heartbreak, and one that’s forever, and she will be VERY successful. She’s also naïve but nobody’s fool.

With a beginning like that, the subsequent screenplay basically just wrote itself. If we get attractive enough guys to play all of our different romances we have something for every girl who actually shells out $12.50 to see that movie. I just hope my character over comes her spiritual crisis and find Joel in time to work it out with the guy who seemed wrong, but is just so right.

Also, I vote James Franco plays my summer fling that I over come my palm reading and negativity to get with.

Half a Mile Away

Half a mile away isn’t really all that far. According to Google maps it’s only a 15 minute walk. Usually you can go that far and be in the same neighborhood you started out in with this city.

In my case I’ve moved a half a mile away (alright, 7/10ths of a mile) and have moved from the border of Chinatown on the LES to the border of Chinatown in Nolita/Soho, and already things are changing in a big way.

Sure, there’s the obvious changes: Now I pay a higher rent, live closer to a lot more subway lines, and bathe in my kitchen (yes, I went for the apartment with the tub in the kitchen counter; for more details see previous post). I no longer wake up to an international house of pancakes going on outside my bedroom as people speaking Norwegian, Swedish, and Pretentiousartist eat breakfast together and loudly try to understand each other.

(Breakfast at my place)

But there’s another big change: This place has been blessed by Joel. Not only does Mulberry Street get it’s name in one of his cherished song titles (I live on the corner of a street intersecting with Mulberry), but in the 24 hours since I’ve moved in, Billy has sent a ton of great things my way. Since moving in yesterday I have gotten two phone calls asking me to come in for job interviews, a offer for single babysitting gig, eaten homemade cupcakes via my new roommate, had a great 24 hours with mom, and watched TV on an actual television. I have to say, cup cakes are a lot more welcoming than a dead mouse when moving into a new place.

(Picture of Mulberry Street circa 2010)

While Billy may be sending good “Surprises” my way, I did have to learn some things without the help of his music when it came to moving:

1. College Educated Movers, while having a lousy name, are excellent at moving things down six flights of stairs and up another 6 flights of stairs, despite their higher level of education.

2. In “Bed, Bath and Beyond” the “Beyond” stands for another dimension, because literarily you enter into another one while in that store. If I didn’t stop and ask 6 different people how to get to the rugs, and from there, how to get out of the store, I would still be wandering around that store lost. Honestly, from the outside it looks like it’s going to be a little bigger than Barnes and Noble size, but on the inside you might as well be at Hershey Park. That being said, they deliver SAME DAY to any place in Manhattan for only $15.

3. Salvation Army has baller furniture. I have nothing really to add to this, but I thought ya’ll should know.

4. Don’t ever ask me to hang a mirror or a picture on your wall. It will come off slightly crooked. Though, then again, maybe you do; I find that a crooked full body mirror has added character to my room.

(Story of my life)

Well, that’s it for today. Sorry for the delay in posts. I know I haven’t been completely living up to my New Year’s Resolutions, but with a new apartment and (knocking on wood) a new job, hopefully soon I'll be keeping up with some of those resolutions I let slide.

Stiletto

The other day I was in Starbucks, reading a book and drinking some tea (how original of me, I know). I had two packets of honey for my tea. I opened one of them no problem. The second packet, however, well let’s just say Joel was testing me. I got a text message right before I started trying to open it. By the time I had finally opened this packet, after trying fingers, teeth, Jedi mind tricks, and asking the Ascetic Jew sitting next to me (who may very well be one of God’s chosen people, but that doesn’t help him when it comes to opening honey), it was still unopened when I looked down at my phone again 10 minutes later. I’m pretty sure at some point everybody in that crowded Starbucks in Soho knew I should give up, but just watched in silence as I kept trying. Just as some Italian woman taking pity on me was about to hand me her unopened honey packet, my teeth finally prevailed.

(The Enemy)

I’m not sure why this story is important or what it says about me yet, but I do feel like Billy was trying to tell me something from the experience. Maybe I was supposed to taste the bliss of perseverance as that honey came gooping into my mo

uth. Maybe I needed to learn about patience. Maybe Billy was saving me from burning my tongue on tea that was too hot. Or maybe, just maybe, I was meant to remember that no matter how good that honey is, the guy behind the counter at Starbucks will just give you another packet if you can’t open your own and save you from becoming the center of attention, but that conclusion seems unlikely.

In news where I don’t reveal stupid embarrassing things that I do…

Since last week I have only found my way into three n

ew apartments.

The first belonged to a middle aged hippy, whose voice never rose past a stage whisper, and a French woman who did not speak any English. Upon entering this strangely decorated Zen sanctuary I couldn’t help but to notice that the long grey haired man’s incense burning could not cover up the stench on weed or the fact that he was trying to charge me $200 more a month than the place was worth.

The second place was in an even grimier and less attractive area of Chinatown than I live in now. I would be without a closet and four blocks further from the same F train. When I first met the two people looking to become my new roommates they mostly just spoke Chinese to each other. The one roommate was a white guy who was definitely American and therefore spoke perfect English, but I’m not sure that his girlfriend, the other roommate, could speak any. They were also asking for a hundred dollars more a month.

Meanwhile, the apartment I'm currently trying to get the Hell out of has taken a turn for the worse. My one roommate moved out because she got in a fight with her boyfriend (our other roommate) and took the tv. So now I'm currently living with the one roommate I don't want to be around, a guy named Thor from Norway and a girl from Sweden whose name I can't spell. I wish Billy would send some ghosts of my Scandinavian ancestors to come help a girl translate.

The most recent place I saw was in Soho. The apartment was an amazing location, great television, and a room with storage space. Problems? The bath tub is in the kitchen and the bedroom has tile floors. I’m thinking I could live with it though; after all nothing screams a scene from a movie about a poor artist living in New York that a young woman taking a bath in her small kitchen in Soho. And really when have I ever passed up a chance to make my life play out more like a movie?

As for the title of this post I have a job interview on Wednesday to work at a very trendy shoe store. I won’t tell you if I got the job or not; you’ll know because the next time you’ll see me I’ll be wearing one of the pairs of the following shoes:

Only Joel knows how much I want a discount of any of those completely impractical-I'm-blinded-by-their-brightness-glitz-and-beauty shoes. Cross your fingers and be thinking about me Wednesday night.

This Night

I’m back in New York after a long weekend in Baltimore. It was good to relax and see family and friends. I got to see the Ravens crush the Patriots on television on Sunday, making it the first full football game I got to see this season; the things I give up for the sake of my dreams are truly dreadful.

This night has been all about implementing all of those New Year’s resolutions that I spoke of last time. That means I’ve had a very serious a long date with Craigslist while scanning for both apartments and jobs (and of course “missed connections,” incase Billy is looking for me).

So far there’s a few leads on the Apartment front; nothing that’s really jumping out at me, but for the rent I’m looking to pay that’s too be expected. I’m mostly looking to stay around the same area, I figure I should completely conquer the Lower East Side before taking on another neighborhood, though I’m open to suggestions if you have a friend that’s dying to live with me (which I know you all do).

The job search is going just swimmingly. I had a few job interviews which went well, though nothing seems to be in the bag just yet. I’ve found that I usually do a lot better when there’s a guy who’s doing the interviewing. Don’t know what that says about yours truly, but I’m not gonna worry about it too much.

I’ve gone back to looking for auditions. It’s looking far more promising this time around than it did in November when I was last looking at casting calls. I’ll write more later this week as auditions and interviews come up.

As for some of my other, more serious resolutions, Netflix is starting to better predict what movies I actually want to see, which goes to show that my dedication to the site is growing. My sister gave me a cook book when I was home and tonight I made myself taco salad. I expect to have my own gourmet cooking show by the end of the year (I only hope that I can be half as successful as the Swedish Chef). I’m planning to go see a play on both Wednesday and Friday and I’m updating this blog as we speak. So far, I’m only failing on the meeting Billy Joel and other famous people front. I’m ashamed that its two weeks into January and I’m lagging, but there’s still time to fulfill my resolutions.

Anyway, let me know if you have an apartment in New York with a nice tv and a couch so I can invite myself over to watch the Ravens vs. the Colts game Saturday night. I will forever love you and be in your debt if you do.

Everybody has a dream

Well this year has been crazy.

I started off January of last year still at DePaul with some of the greatest people I’ve ever met, loving every second of Chicago. Well, that was a lie, I didn’t really love the cold, a couple of my acting classes, or the cut, but I generally loved life and don’t remember a single day I was there when I wasn’t laughing.

Then came summer, where things got flipped upside down and suddenly I was obsessed with finding a way that I could move to New York and try to jump start my dream. This obsession cost me 4 trips up to the city until I found the hole in the wall where I currently reside.

Then came the epic job search of fall 2009. This also included the time when I had my worst audition ever and getting fired for the first time in my life. Following the job search was the time of having two jobs and working 60 hour work weeks. It was hella tiring, but I've also had an incredibly fun time with new and old friends and getting to know the city since moving here.

Thank Joel, Billy was there to see me through it all; the good and the bad.

It has been a big year for Billy and I as I've been chasing my dream, and I couldn’t have done it without him. A little bit of credit going to the support of my family and friends. After all, they do let me listen to Billy’s music whenever I so desire.

So without any further ado I bring you my list of 10 New Years Resolutions to make my dreams for 2010 and beyond a reality:

1. Spend at least 20 minutes every day searching for auditions. Gotta get your big break somehow.

2. Get another job. Gotta pay those bills.

3. Meet Billy. Gotta get you big break somehow and pay those bills.

4. See more plays.

5. Buy a cookbook, man can’t live off bacon, mac&cheese, eggs, and potatoes alone.

6. Find a job that doesn’t include using nail polish remover all the time. Billy probs doesn’t like girls with gross hands.

7. Take advantage of Netflix like nobody’s business.

8. Have more run-ins with famous people. They might know Billy.

9. Find a new apartment.

10. Update this more often. No other way to get my family off my back.

So there you have it 10 resolutions for 2010. I had an excellently random and fun New Years Eve last night, and I hope all who read this did as well. I’ll leave you with something Hughie said to me yesterday that made my day:

Billy Joel on the Radio: I've been stranded in the combat zone, I walked through Bedford Stuy alone, Even rode my motorcycle in the rain

Hughie: He shouldn’t do that! That’s dangerous!

Tolly: You maybe right, he may be crazy.

Hughie: He IS crazy!

Happy New Years