Just got home from a spontaneous frozen yogurt run to the phenomenal Yogurtland (only thirty cents an ounce! Booyakashah!). Life is momentarily fantastic, even if I had a long day of hard work and hormonal imbalances. I paired my fro-yo with some homemade, flourless and sugarfree (yet still delectable!) apple crisp, and I even have leftovers for tomorrow. Thank you, frozen yogurt goddess. And this time, I didn't get a ticket, so hurray for that as well.
This morning during yoga, I had an epiphany. Well, considering Forest Gump sort of reached the same conclusion, I'll use his words to sum my thought process up: "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." Well spoken, Forest.
What occurred to me in yoga, as I was sweating and contorting for ninety minutes, came to me because I have been irritated due to the feelings of instability I face in my life right now. These same feelings are even imitated on my mat, where my usually solid half moon and warrior three have been shakey and unsteady. On some days, I simply wish I had a road map, and could tell myself, "at this time next year, you will be at point B, earning x amount, and happy." Of course, I will find a way to be happy no matter what, but sometimes those unknowns weigh down on me. Then it occurred to me that life, as it turns out, is like a really great, extraordinarily well-conceived surprise party. Yes, life is like a box of chocolates, due to the assortment of nuts and random fillings from day to day. But life is also like a box of chocolates because it is a phenomenal gift! I love, love, love surprises, from romantic evenings to snail mail and packages to visitors to phone calls from old friends. And I believe that, if I can have patience, I will come to find that the surprises the coming day, week, month, and years have in store for me will amount to even more than I can dream of or hope for right now.
That was my happy shavasana revelation this morning. :) Win. Another surprise win? The album "Grace Potter & The Nocturnals." I heard one song at work ("Low Road") over and over, fell in love with it, and splurged on the $5.99 iTunes album tonight. The album is excellent, and I recommend you check it out for yourself.
Another win??? DONNER WON HOUSE WARS YESTERDAY!!!!!!!!!! Now, while I realize that this most likely means little to those of you who did not attend CMU with me, this was a huge victory that made my little girly heart swell with pride, admiration, and love for everyone in the Big Blue this year and in the past. I was lucky enough to speak with about seven members of the "blue crew" this past Monday, and I sure as heck miss the incredible leaders Donner attracts each year. I am so proud of everyone who is carrying on the legacy of blue, and I have been living vicariously through your house pictures online (sorry to be creepy lol). Win, win, win (and the Carnegie Cup! Take THAT, you big mean Hill!)!
This past week continued to keep me running around frantically, and the next few days seem to have much of the same in store. As usual, I have overextended myself and have zero free time. However, the good news is that my bank account may soon start climbing back out of oblivion and into the green zone, which means I can actually contribute to my extremely neglected savings fund (or start a 401k!) sometime this year. Keep your fingers crossed. Work this week consisted of subbing and teaching yoga (and a boot camp/ yoga blend, which was a blast!), practicing yoga, finishing the menu board and A-frame for "Soda Pop's" restaurant in Hollywood, a modeling shoot for 365 Hangers, working at Zeke's (which is still a hazy future, as far as I know?), keeping an ear to the ground for other work opportunities, running errands, a negative general meeting with Mark Saks (casting director for "Medium" and "The Good Wife", among other great projects) - which is still a positive, in that I at least had the meeting, mailing out headshots and resumes as always, and other small assorted daily life tasks which seem minute but which quickly become overwhelming.
Some random thoughts...
Someone who lives near me - specifically, a young Asian, punky guy with long hair and a black bowler hat - drives a white hearse around as his car. It still unnerves me every time I drive home and spot this unconventional automobile parked under a shady tree or near a sleeping homeless person. I wonder if the owner has little air fresheners and hula dancers in the car? I would also be willing to bet most people avoid having an accident with his car like the plague. I know I would.
I really, really want a puppy, and I really, really want to go see my boy in St Louis. Cash flow, please increase to make my dreams come true! Thank you for being considerate of me in these matters.
There is a tall (6'3"?) black tranny who occasionally stands at the corner of Santa Monica and La Brea, near where I live, and talks to himself with total commitment and animation. The other day, a Hispanic guy passed by on his way somewhere, happened to quickly glance at this absurd sight, and the next thing you know, Miss Thang kicked an empty coke bottle at the passing stranger. While this was absolutely entertaining, it would seem that etiquette school passed our dear friend by.
My little sister bought her first car today... I feel old. I feel like we're turning into aunts, and having visions of us going on lunch dates or shopping runs. My little brother also begins his senior year of high school this week. Since when did life start flying by so quickly?
I made two new friends at work yesterday! One is a personal trainer and boot camp instructor, and the other does special effects and production. I met both guys at Zeke's, and am planning upcoming hikes, movie outings, and lunches now. Let's hope explicitly stating I have a boyfriend from the get-go gets the message across loud and clear, because it sure would be nice to have some friends in this city. My friend from Switzerland also made it back a few days ago, and I'm hoping to reconnect with him soon also. Now where are my ladies at? No offense guys, but I can't exactly have cookie dough and watch "Twenty-Seven Dresses" with you, at least not all the time. ;)
Even though having your debit card compromised is a pain, and the inconsiderate persons responsible for said pain should be forced to do hard labor, I got a much prettier replacement card in the mail today than my original card. Sometimes, big wins come in small packages, like envelopes from Wells Fargo. Who knew?
I am working my first shift as a server at the restaurant tomorrow (as a sub, but this is still exciting for aforementioned cash flow), and should probably get some sleep. Toodles, world. :) Keep on giving that gift. Keep the surprises coming, please!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Casting Directors
I am beginning to realize that casting directors, much like actors, yoga instructors, and people in general, come in many different shapes, sizes, and colors. Some are cheery and hopeful for young prospectives such as myself; some are realists, admitting the climb is treacherous; and some, like the one I met today, seem downright negative. I suppose that, in the end, they all balance each other out in some form or fashion.
On Saturday, I attended my first casting director workshop with the 'House of Actors', starring casting director Scott David, a head CD with April Webster Casting. The session was bizarre, to say the least. Once I parked my car and headed to the second story of the little apartment building, guided by colorful, handmade posters resembling a yard sale or children's birthday party advertisement, I was accosted by no less than five different people, all exclaiming loudly, "It's SO nice to meet you!" and enveloping me in giant bear hugs. At this point, my brain began to nervously question the professionalism of this establishment.
The little room we sat in was filled with pictures of famous actors and actresses, ranging from a collage of Marilyn Monroe to snapshots of James Dean and advertisements with Marlon Brando. There was a small refreshments (or "crafty", aka craft services) table set up in the corner, with slices of homemade cake, a tin pf Planter's peanuts, a jar of candy, and several banana halves, as well as tea, coffee, and hot chocolate packets. There was also a little station with actor-friendly work goodies, like a three-ring hole punch, highlighters, and a stapler. I highlighted the copy of the sides I had brought in for my reader, passed it off to a very cheerful man in his fifties, and found a seat in the middle of the conglomerate of blue plastic chairs.
After Scott arrived, he came in, sat down, and asked us if we had any questions or things we wished to talk about. It was at this point in time that it became clear to me I was surrounded by 'actors' from all backgrounds. A cute girl around age eleven started talking about her pet goldfish, which earned a slight chuckle from the crowd. The adolescent's tale of her carnival fish (which had perished) prompted an adult in the room, wearing a bright red dress and a very enthusiastic demeanor, to profess her unyielding love of her four pet rats, and to then explain rat birthing processes and how lovable rats truly are. Finding this bizarre, I was stunned to hear a woman behind me jump into the conversation with a remark about her anxiety-ridden, prescription-popping cat, who had to be medicated in order to stop peeing in the owner's bed, which the vet had attributed to "separation anxiety." A few actors laughed, a few tried to chime in with their own, "Listen to ME!" stories, and a couple of us - I'm being optimistic that I wasn't the only one in this predicament - began to question our sanity and the validity of this casting workshop.
I then waited for an hour, as people cycled in to meet with Scott, one by one. When it was my turn, I went in, momentarily handed him my headshot and resume (which he couldn't even keep due to some new law), and did my rape victim scene (recommended to me as, "one of Scott's favorites, because it really let's him know if an actress can act or not). Scott liked my interpretation, asked me to do it again with less presence and more haziness, I did so, we smiled, and that was it. I said goodbye to him forty-five minutes later, getting the impression by his Blackberry scanning as he was hustled by a room of twelve actors, that he was ready to get on with his Saturday. Well, here's hoping that $50 at least made a dent somewhere in his mental library about me.
Today I had a general meeting with Mark Saks, the CD whom I had an audition and callback with for "MEDIUM." More to come on this in a bit.....
On Saturday, I attended my first casting director workshop with the 'House of Actors', starring casting director Scott David, a head CD with April Webster Casting. The session was bizarre, to say the least. Once I parked my car and headed to the second story of the little apartment building, guided by colorful, handmade posters resembling a yard sale or children's birthday party advertisement, I was accosted by no less than five different people, all exclaiming loudly, "It's SO nice to meet you!" and enveloping me in giant bear hugs. At this point, my brain began to nervously question the professionalism of this establishment.
The little room we sat in was filled with pictures of famous actors and actresses, ranging from a collage of Marilyn Monroe to snapshots of James Dean and advertisements with Marlon Brando. There was a small refreshments (or "crafty", aka craft services) table set up in the corner, with slices of homemade cake, a tin pf Planter's peanuts, a jar of candy, and several banana halves, as well as tea, coffee, and hot chocolate packets. There was also a little station with actor-friendly work goodies, like a three-ring hole punch, highlighters, and a stapler. I highlighted the copy of the sides I had brought in for my reader, passed it off to a very cheerful man in his fifties, and found a seat in the middle of the conglomerate of blue plastic chairs.
After Scott arrived, he came in, sat down, and asked us if we had any questions or things we wished to talk about. It was at this point in time that it became clear to me I was surrounded by 'actors' from all backgrounds. A cute girl around age eleven started talking about her pet goldfish, which earned a slight chuckle from the crowd. The adolescent's tale of her carnival fish (which had perished) prompted an adult in the room, wearing a bright red dress and a very enthusiastic demeanor, to profess her unyielding love of her four pet rats, and to then explain rat birthing processes and how lovable rats truly are. Finding this bizarre, I was stunned to hear a woman behind me jump into the conversation with a remark about her anxiety-ridden, prescription-popping cat, who had to be medicated in order to stop peeing in the owner's bed, which the vet had attributed to "separation anxiety." A few actors laughed, a few tried to chime in with their own, "Listen to ME!" stories, and a couple of us - I'm being optimistic that I wasn't the only one in this predicament - began to question our sanity and the validity of this casting workshop.
I then waited for an hour, as people cycled in to meet with Scott, one by one. When it was my turn, I went in, momentarily handed him my headshot and resume (which he couldn't even keep due to some new law), and did my rape victim scene (recommended to me as, "one of Scott's favorites, because it really let's him know if an actress can act or not). Scott liked my interpretation, asked me to do it again with less presence and more haziness, I did so, we smiled, and that was it. I said goodbye to him forty-five minutes later, getting the impression by his Blackberry scanning as he was hustled by a room of twelve actors, that he was ready to get on with his Saturday. Well, here's hoping that $50 at least made a dent somewhere in his mental library about me.
Today I had a general meeting with Mark Saks, the CD whom I had an audition and callback with for "MEDIUM." More to come on this in a bit.....
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
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Friday, August 13, 2010
Work Begets Work
While I haven't heard anything (which most likely means I did not book the role), I was called in for my first "big" audition on Sunday - a non-speaking co-star role on "MEDIUM". I also had a callback on Monday afternoon with Mark Saks, the Casting Director, and several other people. Both auditions went well, and I felt solid when I left the callback, having bravely "cried, pleaded, and choked to death", which was what the part called for. And when I walked into the room for my callback, Mark Saks took my headshot and resume, then turned to his colleague and said, "Chelsea's another one from Carnegie Mellon. We like to get 'em first, before their rates go up." That made me smile.
This audition was also a breath of fresh air, because I was lucky enough to run into two of my classmates. As I got into the elevator, I bumped into Hunter, and I saw Frank once I got up to the second floor. Seeing two people who went through the same rigorous, exhausting program as me for four years all dressed up and out auditioning, trying to scrape by a living, and just going back to it day after day made me realize that we have all been going through the same thing since we graduated in May. I was so grateful to see familiar smiles from my talented, hardworking colleagues. I hope to see those same smiles gracing the Oscars in ten years. One can dream!
On Tuesday, I worked my first job as an AFTRA extra. I drove out to Valencia for a 10am call for the new NBC show "OUTLAW", and I waited until around 9:15pm to shoot my scene as a featured extra! If you watch (I believe) the third episode in September, you will see me as the girl in the hotel nightclub scene who Eddie (Jesse Bradford, Cliff from "Bring It On") points out as "the type of girl he would like to date." The set of "OUTLAW" was a lot of fun. The hair and makeup women were lovely, especially Honor, who styled my hair and reminded me to, "play the game, but be yourself." I chatted with a couple of really nice guys, including a personal trainer, an aspiring actor from Dublin, and a funny guy who made me laugh on set (which was needed for my take, so a good thing). I met three wonderful girls - Deanna, Meghan, and Amber - whom I hung out with and giggled with for a good part of the day. It felt great to laugh, be silly, and munch with other girls, and I'm hoping to plan some sort of girly sleepover, if that's at all possible without being overly creepy or invasive. I was also impressed by how friendly Jesse, Jimmy Smits, and Carly Pope seemed. They all smiled and said thank-you to the extras after we wrapped, and Carly was just straight-up funny (as in, I would love to hang out and go bar-hopping with her). Maybe someday when I am actually a credible actress, meaning I have good credits under my name, we will do just that.
I am also now teaching three weekly yoga classes, which is a refreshing return for me. I thoroughly enjoy sharing yoga with others, and if I can get a paycheck doing something I love, even better. On Mondays and Fridays, I teach yoga at a company about forty minutes away. On Mondays, I teach the two CEOs from 7-8am, and on Fridays, I teach the two CEOs again from 6:30-7:30am, and then some of the employees from 7:30-8:30am. While it is still hard to drag myself out of bed before six in the morning, when I get back home to West Hollywood at 9am, I feel more grounded and optimistic for the day than when I left. The company is going to also consider having me come in to teach a weekly cardio class (I'm thinking a kickboxing/ boot camp blend), so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Someday, should I ever find myself in a situation where I have the luxury of surplus money, I would love to get officially certified to teach kickboxing, spinning, boot camp, and maybe personal training, even nutrition and raw cooking. I love helping people find happiness through health.
These were my wins for the week. :)
My losses? A rumor that the restaurant I work in may not be open for September, and the fact that I had to get a new card after there were several fraudulent charges on my card yesterday. While the charges were minor, I am still confused as to how someone got hold of my information, and irritated as well. I find it hard to fathom that people have no guilt about stealing everything from someone who works hard to save, penny by penny. Yet at the same time, whomever got my information must have been thoroughly let down when they realized there really isn't much to steal. As far as the job situation goes, we'll see where we're at come the first of September.
Tomorrow morning, I have my first casting director workshop, so I need to get some shut-eye. :)
And also, I would like to send a thank-you to whomever anonymously mailed me a copy of the book Mama's Bank Account. I came home from work tonight to find the mysterious package, mailed all the way from Missouri, yet I have a sneaking suspicion that the book was actually sent from a very stealthy, very kind woman in Houston. You know who you are. And I love you very much. :) I'm proud of you.
This audition was also a breath of fresh air, because I was lucky enough to run into two of my classmates. As I got into the elevator, I bumped into Hunter, and I saw Frank once I got up to the second floor. Seeing two people who went through the same rigorous, exhausting program as me for four years all dressed up and out auditioning, trying to scrape by a living, and just going back to it day after day made me realize that we have all been going through the same thing since we graduated in May. I was so grateful to see familiar smiles from my talented, hardworking colleagues. I hope to see those same smiles gracing the Oscars in ten years. One can dream!
On Tuesday, I worked my first job as an AFTRA extra. I drove out to Valencia for a 10am call for the new NBC show "OUTLAW", and I waited until around 9:15pm to shoot my scene as a featured extra! If you watch (I believe) the third episode in September, you will see me as the girl in the hotel nightclub scene who Eddie (Jesse Bradford, Cliff from "Bring It On") points out as "the type of girl he would like to date." The set of "OUTLAW" was a lot of fun. The hair and makeup women were lovely, especially Honor, who styled my hair and reminded me to, "play the game, but be yourself." I chatted with a couple of really nice guys, including a personal trainer, an aspiring actor from Dublin, and a funny guy who made me laugh on set (which was needed for my take, so a good thing). I met three wonderful girls - Deanna, Meghan, and Amber - whom I hung out with and giggled with for a good part of the day. It felt great to laugh, be silly, and munch with other girls, and I'm hoping to plan some sort of girly sleepover, if that's at all possible without being overly creepy or invasive. I was also impressed by how friendly Jesse, Jimmy Smits, and Carly Pope seemed. They all smiled and said thank-you to the extras after we wrapped, and Carly was just straight-up funny (as in, I would love to hang out and go bar-hopping with her). Maybe someday when I am actually a credible actress, meaning I have good credits under my name, we will do just that.
I am also now teaching three weekly yoga classes, which is a refreshing return for me. I thoroughly enjoy sharing yoga with others, and if I can get a paycheck doing something I love, even better. On Mondays and Fridays, I teach yoga at a company about forty minutes away. On Mondays, I teach the two CEOs from 7-8am, and on Fridays, I teach the two CEOs again from 6:30-7:30am, and then some of the employees from 7:30-8:30am. While it is still hard to drag myself out of bed before six in the morning, when I get back home to West Hollywood at 9am, I feel more grounded and optimistic for the day than when I left. The company is going to also consider having me come in to teach a weekly cardio class (I'm thinking a kickboxing/ boot camp blend), so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Someday, should I ever find myself in a situation where I have the luxury of surplus money, I would love to get officially certified to teach kickboxing, spinning, boot camp, and maybe personal training, even nutrition and raw cooking. I love helping people find happiness through health.
These were my wins for the week. :)
My losses? A rumor that the restaurant I work in may not be open for September, and the fact that I had to get a new card after there were several fraudulent charges on my card yesterday. While the charges were minor, I am still confused as to how someone got hold of my information, and irritated as well. I find it hard to fathom that people have no guilt about stealing everything from someone who works hard to save, penny by penny. Yet at the same time, whomever got my information must have been thoroughly let down when they realized there really isn't much to steal. As far as the job situation goes, we'll see where we're at come the first of September.
Tomorrow morning, I have my first casting director workshop, so I need to get some shut-eye. :)
And also, I would like to send a thank-you to whomever anonymously mailed me a copy of the book Mama's Bank Account. I came home from work tonight to find the mysterious package, mailed all the way from Missouri, yet I have a sneaking suspicion that the book was actually sent from a very stealthy, very kind woman in Houston. You know who you are. And I love you very much. :) I'm proud of you.
Having Raw Knuckles
I have raw knuckles right now. No, this is not a result of me taking a few swings at a Los Angeles local, although I must admit, as much as I believe in nonviolence, I have been tempted a few times.
This morning, while waiting upstairs in the gym where I teach private yoga, I noticed a speed bag on the wall. A speed bag is used in boxing to focus and to become more accurate with punches, as you may have seen in the very touching film, "Million Dollar Baby." During my senior year of high school, while in England, I would often go to the gym and swing at the speed bag for forty-five minutes without blinking an eye; there is something so very therapeutic about the natural cadence your body falls into as you watch the ball and release your stresses with each successive swing. You must focus on hitting the target, and all of your other worries and concerns fall by the wayside as your focus sharpens on the red lacing of the leather, floating eternally, like a pendulum, between you and the blankness of the white wall on the other side.
After hitting the speedbag this morning for about five minutes, growing calmer and more acute with each jab, I decided to stop in order to get ready for yoga. Although I had felt light tinging in my knuckles while puching, it wasn't until I stopped and looked down that I realized eight of my ten knuckles were raw, with a hint of crimson peeking through. I had been so focused that I didn't even notice.
I think that having bruised knuckles this morning was a good metaphor for where I find myself in life. In all honesty, if I slow down, I realize that I am tired and could use a bit more sleep. I realize that I am sore from working out more and more. I realize that I have very little food and very little money. Yet I don't notice these obstacles through the smile that keeps bursting through as a result of being focused on my dream. The pursuit of the dream and the small yet steady steps toward achieving it keep me moving forward, rather than backward.
Sometimes, I am grateful for raw knuckles.
This morning, while waiting upstairs in the gym where I teach private yoga, I noticed a speed bag on the wall. A speed bag is used in boxing to focus and to become more accurate with punches, as you may have seen in the very touching film, "Million Dollar Baby." During my senior year of high school, while in England, I would often go to the gym and swing at the speed bag for forty-five minutes without blinking an eye; there is something so very therapeutic about the natural cadence your body falls into as you watch the ball and release your stresses with each successive swing. You must focus on hitting the target, and all of your other worries and concerns fall by the wayside as your focus sharpens on the red lacing of the leather, floating eternally, like a pendulum, between you and the blankness of the white wall on the other side.
After hitting the speedbag this morning for about five minutes, growing calmer and more acute with each jab, I decided to stop in order to get ready for yoga. Although I had felt light tinging in my knuckles while puching, it wasn't until I stopped and looked down that I realized eight of my ten knuckles were raw, with a hint of crimson peeking through. I had been so focused that I didn't even notice.
I think that having bruised knuckles this morning was a good metaphor for where I find myself in life. In all honesty, if I slow down, I realize that I am tired and could use a bit more sleep. I realize that I am sore from working out more and more. I realize that I have very little food and very little money. Yet I don't notice these obstacles through the smile that keeps bursting through as a result of being focused on my dream. The pursuit of the dream and the small yet steady steps toward achieving it keep me moving forward, rather than backward.
Sometimes, I am grateful for raw knuckles.
Food I Love
As far as I'm concerned, every single person on earth should have at least one, healthy, delicious food item that they can rely on to lift their spirits once consumed. We all have cheat-food favorites, mine being chocolate chip cookie dough, which I, a raging health nut, will honestly admit is my favorite food. However, chocolate chip cookie dough is something I have to eat in moderation, and I generally feel guilty about eating it (does my body really want all of that refined sugar, raw egg, and white flour? I think nay). This is why I insist we should each have a delicious healthy favorite. I had two of my all-time favorite healthy foods within the last hour as my lunch, and I feel compelled to share them. Should you find yourself seeking a favorite good-for-you treat, try one of these!
Goat Cheese Sandwich on Sprouted Bread
2 slices Sprouted Bread (mine uses dates and berries instead of flour), or normal-people bread if you have that
Spicy Brown Mustard
Several dashes of Cholula Hot Sauce (or your favorite zesty condiment; not ketchup! Too much sugar!)
Smoked Turkey Breast
Goat Cheese (I like the kind with herbs in it)
3 slices Tomato
1/2 avocado, cut into slices or spread directly on bread (avocados are an excellent source of healthy fats)
*Add sprouts if you have them (haven't tried this yet, but I bet it's out of this world!)
:)
Raw Chocolate Pudding
In a blender, combine:
1.5c almond milk (unsweetened)
2c pitted dates (start by blending these alone with almond milk to puree them)
1/3c cocoa powder
1 overripe banana
2-3 ripe avocados
:) (I could eat this delicious dessert for three meals a day and still feel good about eating it. Hurray!)
Goat Cheese Sandwich on Sprouted Bread
2 slices Sprouted Bread (mine uses dates and berries instead of flour), or normal-people bread if you have that
Spicy Brown Mustard
Several dashes of Cholula Hot Sauce (or your favorite zesty condiment; not ketchup! Too much sugar!)
Smoked Turkey Breast
Goat Cheese (I like the kind with herbs in it)
3 slices Tomato
1/2 avocado, cut into slices or spread directly on bread (avocados are an excellent source of healthy fats)
*Add sprouts if you have them (haven't tried this yet, but I bet it's out of this world!)
:)
Raw Chocolate Pudding
In a blender, combine:
1.5c almond milk (unsweetened)
2c pitted dates (start by blending these alone with almond milk to puree them)
1/3c cocoa powder
1 overripe banana
2-3 ripe avocados
:) (I could eat this delicious dessert for three meals a day and still feel good about eating it. Hurray!)
Monday, August 9, 2010
An Exhausting Day
Today was the no good very bad day. Not really. Yet it was long, fraught with errand-running and driving (I used up half a tank in the last twenty-four hours, which is just pathetic). I suppose it was mostly a "wins" day. Yet here I find myself, at 10:09pm, sitting upright in bed with my back propped up against three pillows. I am physically exhausted and emotionally depleted, and my brain has the nerve to keep on running that endless marathon of thoughts. Ah, me.
Last night, I agreed to go out to a dance club with one of the cooks from work, as friends. That simple caveat never quite gets across to the other party, I'm afraid. While the club, a Hispanic club named Leonardo's, was truly enjoyable, due largely to the dancing (read: not grinding), wine, and kind strangers, I became hesitant when said chef - who frequently calls me things like "mami" and "corazon" and "amor" - wouldn't let me cover my entrance fee or wine. Yet it wasn't until one am - when I flat-out insisted that I had to go home in order to get up and teach yoga a mere five hours later - that my "friend" walked me to my car and tried to kiss me. Now, I understand this might seem flattering to some, but I was just upset. I find that it is hard to become friends with women here because they are often in competition with you, and it is difficult to befriend males because they want to hook up with you. I abhor all of the cat-calls, the ogling, the flirting out here. I came home and teared up, sorely missing my close guy friends, like Veeren, and Samarth, and Clint, and Miles, and Matt, and my other dear men who know a thing or two about respect AND about goofiness. What I wouldn't give to go back to those sweet summers of sixteen and seventeen, when I could stay up talking to both guy and girl friends until the wee hours of the morning, completely stress-free and relatively innocent. Those were indeed the days.
To sum up my day in a nutshell, I woke up at 6am, drove out to teach yoga to two Co-Presidents at a company out in Industry, CA, from 7-8am, drove back and got home by 9am, watched "MEDIUM" and cycled for thirty minutes, hopped in the shower, blow-dried my hair and attempted to magically erase the eye bags from my lack of sleep and mild wine hangover, hastily made a sandwich and grabbed an apple for the road, drove out to Manhattan Beach (a 45-minute drive one-way) for a 12:15pm callback, did my audition - which consisted of sitting in a chair, sobbing, and pretending to be strangled to death - in under five minutes, saw two CMU classmates (to great relief and warm fuzzies), stopped at a grocery store for some fruit, made a phone call to the yoga studio, drove to my bank to get a cashier's check, headed over to AFTRA around 2pm (I am now an official member of the - ahem, better - union for aspiring professional "starvationists"), ingested my delicious sandwich from stoplight to stoplight in Hollywood, stopped off at the post office to mail ten headshots and resumes out to projects currently casting, did laundry at the local laundromat from 2:30-4:15pm, rushed home to hang-dry my damp clothes at 4:25pm, drove over to Sunset-Gower studios for a 5pm fitting for a call tomorrow (where the costume woman commented, when she thought I was out of ear range, that I was "a lot bigger than Moretta (the character I'm working as a lookalike for tomorrow), but a pretty blond" - OUCH..), checked out Shoe Warehouse and Ross from 6-7:30pm (in search of some black and tan strappy sandals for tomorrow's call - no luck on the tan), made it home and scarfed down another sandwich around 8pm, talked to the boyfriend for a brief twenty minutes, looked up fitness classes at the YMCA (which I can't actually afford) and tried to schedule personal workouts so I can be less of a gargantuan out here in Hollywood (ugh), dashed over to Target at 9:15pm to check there for tan strappy heels (no luck), and was home at 10pm, absolutely exhausted and needing to go to bed.
As I have a 10am call in Valencia tomorrow for "Outlaw", I shall now endeavor to get some shut-eye, so that I can get up and work out at 5am.
Oh lord, please send me a vacation. Or a weapon.
Last night, I agreed to go out to a dance club with one of the cooks from work, as friends. That simple caveat never quite gets across to the other party, I'm afraid. While the club, a Hispanic club named Leonardo's, was truly enjoyable, due largely to the dancing (read: not grinding), wine, and kind strangers, I became hesitant when said chef - who frequently calls me things like "mami" and "corazon" and "amor" - wouldn't let me cover my entrance fee or wine. Yet it wasn't until one am - when I flat-out insisted that I had to go home in order to get up and teach yoga a mere five hours later - that my "friend" walked me to my car and tried to kiss me. Now, I understand this might seem flattering to some, but I was just upset. I find that it is hard to become friends with women here because they are often in competition with you, and it is difficult to befriend males because they want to hook up with you. I abhor all of the cat-calls, the ogling, the flirting out here. I came home and teared up, sorely missing my close guy friends, like Veeren, and Samarth, and Clint, and Miles, and Matt, and my other dear men who know a thing or two about respect AND about goofiness. What I wouldn't give to go back to those sweet summers of sixteen and seventeen, when I could stay up talking to both guy and girl friends until the wee hours of the morning, completely stress-free and relatively innocent. Those were indeed the days.
To sum up my day in a nutshell, I woke up at 6am, drove out to teach yoga to two Co-Presidents at a company out in Industry, CA, from 7-8am, drove back and got home by 9am, watched "MEDIUM" and cycled for thirty minutes, hopped in the shower, blow-dried my hair and attempted to magically erase the eye bags from my lack of sleep and mild wine hangover, hastily made a sandwich and grabbed an apple for the road, drove out to Manhattan Beach (a 45-minute drive one-way) for a 12:15pm callback, did my audition - which consisted of sitting in a chair, sobbing, and pretending to be strangled to death - in under five minutes, saw two CMU classmates (to great relief and warm fuzzies), stopped at a grocery store for some fruit, made a phone call to the yoga studio, drove to my bank to get a cashier's check, headed over to AFTRA around 2pm (I am now an official member of the - ahem, better - union for aspiring professional "starvationists"), ingested my delicious sandwich from stoplight to stoplight in Hollywood, stopped off at the post office to mail ten headshots and resumes out to projects currently casting, did laundry at the local laundromat from 2:30-4:15pm, rushed home to hang-dry my damp clothes at 4:25pm, drove over to Sunset-Gower studios for a 5pm fitting for a call tomorrow (where the costume woman commented, when she thought I was out of ear range, that I was "a lot bigger than Moretta (the character I'm working as a lookalike for tomorrow), but a pretty blond" - OUCH..), checked out Shoe Warehouse and Ross from 6-7:30pm (in search of some black and tan strappy sandals for tomorrow's call - no luck on the tan), made it home and scarfed down another sandwich around 8pm, talked to the boyfriend for a brief twenty minutes, looked up fitness classes at the YMCA (which I can't actually afford) and tried to schedule personal workouts so I can be less of a gargantuan out here in Hollywood (ugh), dashed over to Target at 9:15pm to check there for tan strappy heels (no luck), and was home at 10pm, absolutely exhausted and needing to go to bed.
As I have a 10am call in Valencia tomorrow for "Outlaw", I shall now endeavor to get some shut-eye, so that I can get up and work out at 5am.
Oh lord, please send me a vacation. Or a weapon.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Spending Time with Stevo-Man
Yes, it's true, I'll admit it; my family refers to my little brother - who, at the ripe old age of seventeen is not so very little these days - as Stevo-Man. It is a term of endearment, perhaps tracing back to "Enchilada Man", his nickname when he would roll himself up in his blankets over and over, while asleep as a child. This past Saturday through Wednesday morning, I was lucky enough to get to spend some quality time with Stevo.
Stevo was out in Los Angeles for debate camp at UCLA, with a highly prestigious group known as "Victory Briefs" (aka, triumphant tighty-whities; forgive the chuckling). When I picked Stevo up on Saturday morning at 7:30am to abduct him for Saturday morning beach yoga, he was exhausted. Listening to him describe his schedule over the previous three weeks, during which time he had slept very little and written very much, not to mention the fact that he has been running around all summer, it was no surprise he was this "whooped". "Welcome to college, kiddo," I remarked. "What you experienced over the last three weeks is what you have in store for four years of college after next May. Enjoy your senior year of high school!"
We drove out to Malibu, where the weather was overcast, found a parking space by some miracle, and set up our yoga gear out on the pier. Then we proceeded to do an hour and a half of Vinyasa Yoga, Stevo's first-ever yoga class. Even though he had only gotten three hours of sleep the night before, and even though his body was not used to many of the asanas, or postures, Stevo kept on breathing and did the entire class. :) After we practically sprinted to the free breakfast line after class (per my instructions), Stevo even admitted that he enjoyed the class, and said that it was harder than he had expected, but very relaxing. (My next goal is to get my mom and dad to come try some yoga with me!) As we enjoyed our fruit salad, exceptionally tasty orange juice, mini blueberry muffins, ad bagels, I grinned at being able to relax and catch up with my little brother at a pier on the beach in California.
After we stopped off to buy some groceries for the next few days, we made it home, where Stevo proceeded to sleep from 1:30-10:30pm, when I arrived home from work. Panicking when I saw my apartment lights still off, I was convinced I was going to find a dead body inside of my apartment. I knocked on the screen door, and called out, "Steve?!" A grumble followed by someone stumbling onto the floor relieved my fear and made it obvious that no murder victim would be found here (only a narcoleptic teenager).
Sunday morning, Stevo and I visited the Hollywood farmer's market, where I get my produce each Sunday. We explored all of the booths, as I handed Stevo sample after sample of white peaches, sweet, juicy pluots, delicious melons, bright red grapes, and other assorted heavenly produce. Our favorite find by far was one of the hot food booths. A little Thai booth sold sweet sticky rice with banana for $1 apiece. We bought one to share, and it came wrapped in a large palm leaf that was secured with toothpicks. After devouring our shared treasure, we had to go back for two more before we headed back to the car. Even though I never cook rice for myself at home, I may have to treat myself to these little delicacies on my Sunday shopping runs from now on.
Sunday afternoon was spent preparing for the monthly potluck - this time, themed "Hawaiin Luau" - set for Sunday evening. Stevo helped me clean the apartment, as I made Apple Walnut Rice and Citrus Chicken for the evening. The Potluck itself was, as always, a nice chance to sit down with friends, share wonderful food, listen to relaxing music, and chat. Once the potluck wrapped up around 11pm, I was overjoyed to discover that Yogurtland is open until midnight. Frozen Yogurt in California is sort of like a rite of passage, and Yogurtland is the best of the best, so Stevo simply had to try it before he headed back home to Houston. So saying, we set off for Yogurtland, only a mile away.
Of course, as luck would have it, a fun, lighthearted, late-night froyo run was where I was first pulled over in my entire life. As I prepared to turn left into the Yogurtland lot, following another car in front of me doing the same thing, a van in the parking lot began backing up (painfully slow). As we waited to turn in, the oncoming traffic got closer and closer, at which point I began backing up to get out of the way of traffic. Just as I started backing up, red and blue lights flashed directly in front of me, and a very angry cop shouted "PULL OVER!" out of his window. With Stevo in the car, I pulled over, fighting back tears and very much confused. It turns out that I had been trying to turn left over a double yellow line (just before the actual turning lane). I explained to the trooper what had happened, still trying not to cry. I think he felt bad about how upset I was, and I felt stupid for being so upset, but c'est la vie. He ended up letting me off with a warning, and I also have to go in to prove my car is registered, as I had taken my registration out of my car to fax a copy to my bank earlier in the week. As I started the car to drive away, I started sobbing, at which point Stevo remarked, "don't freak out, you didn't even get a ticket! It's okay. But if it had been a dude, he totally would have given him the ticket. You're lucky you're a girl and can just cry." Needless to say, crying was an involuntary action, but I suppose it proved worthwhile. Note to all of my actors out there. Well, at least the ladies. Our frozen yogurt was delicious regardless, and Stevo is now a Yogurtland convert. Thank you, cookies and cream frozen yogurt and cookie dough.
Monday we took it easy and slept in, which both of us needed. We went to Zeke's that evening for my "complimentary meal", which I had saved from my training week until my brother arrived to split it with me. We barely finished half of our sweet potato fries, ribs, brisket, chicken, sausage, beans, and potato salad - quite a feast, I'll admit, but not over-the-top for two people, as far as portions are concerned. We ended up taking the rest of the meal home with us and finishing it up on Tuesday, as a scrumptious BBQ chicken salad.
Tuesday we went to see "Toy Story 3", which I found to be a very heartwarming and clever movie. After sneaking into "Dinner for Schmucks" afterward, which is an entirely random (albeit goofy) movie, I have to just say how much I admire and respect movies today which are clever in both writing and nuance. Although I recognize the shift toward "random humor" reflects my own generation's parallel shift, I, for one, would rather see a movie which took creativity and genuine wit to manifest. Thank you, Pixar, for continuing to impress. Tuesday evening, we went back to Yogurtland for round two (and that night's dinner), which was not in the least healthy (maybe the lychee was?), but absolutely delicious and amazing. We ended the night eating froyo on my bed and watching "Gladiator", which Stevo lasted through for approximately ten minutes.
Although I was very sad to leave Stevo at LAX early on Wednesday morning, as I feel lonely out here on the golden coast, I was and will always be so grateful to be blessed with such incredible siblings. My brother and sister are my world; I would do anything for either of them at the drop of a pin. (My parents aren't so bad themselves and, as a favorite teacher once said, "they may be crazy, but they did something right, because they have three great kids." Aw shucks.) I am counting down the days until October, when I can be with my family again.
OH. And I suppose that brings up the announcement that I will be home in October for my grandparents' fiftieth wedding anniversary, which I am so happy for and proud of. So mark your calendars, all you Texans - I'm a comin'!
And with that, I'm off to sleep. Important audition tomorrow (updates to follow, pending successful audition!). Ciao!
Stevo was out in Los Angeles for debate camp at UCLA, with a highly prestigious group known as "Victory Briefs" (aka, triumphant tighty-whities; forgive the chuckling). When I picked Stevo up on Saturday morning at 7:30am to abduct him for Saturday morning beach yoga, he was exhausted. Listening to him describe his schedule over the previous three weeks, during which time he had slept very little and written very much, not to mention the fact that he has been running around all summer, it was no surprise he was this "whooped". "Welcome to college, kiddo," I remarked. "What you experienced over the last three weeks is what you have in store for four years of college after next May. Enjoy your senior year of high school!"
We drove out to Malibu, where the weather was overcast, found a parking space by some miracle, and set up our yoga gear out on the pier. Then we proceeded to do an hour and a half of Vinyasa Yoga, Stevo's first-ever yoga class. Even though he had only gotten three hours of sleep the night before, and even though his body was not used to many of the asanas, or postures, Stevo kept on breathing and did the entire class. :) After we practically sprinted to the free breakfast line after class (per my instructions), Stevo even admitted that he enjoyed the class, and said that it was harder than he had expected, but very relaxing. (My next goal is to get my mom and dad to come try some yoga with me!) As we enjoyed our fruit salad, exceptionally tasty orange juice, mini blueberry muffins, ad bagels, I grinned at being able to relax and catch up with my little brother at a pier on the beach in California.
After we stopped off to buy some groceries for the next few days, we made it home, where Stevo proceeded to sleep from 1:30-10:30pm, when I arrived home from work. Panicking when I saw my apartment lights still off, I was convinced I was going to find a dead body inside of my apartment. I knocked on the screen door, and called out, "Steve?!" A grumble followed by someone stumbling onto the floor relieved my fear and made it obvious that no murder victim would be found here (only a narcoleptic teenager).
Sunday morning, Stevo and I visited the Hollywood farmer's market, where I get my produce each Sunday. We explored all of the booths, as I handed Stevo sample after sample of white peaches, sweet, juicy pluots, delicious melons, bright red grapes, and other assorted heavenly produce. Our favorite find by far was one of the hot food booths. A little Thai booth sold sweet sticky rice with banana for $1 apiece. We bought one to share, and it came wrapped in a large palm leaf that was secured with toothpicks. After devouring our shared treasure, we had to go back for two more before we headed back to the car. Even though I never cook rice for myself at home, I may have to treat myself to these little delicacies on my Sunday shopping runs from now on.
Sunday afternoon was spent preparing for the monthly potluck - this time, themed "Hawaiin Luau" - set for Sunday evening. Stevo helped me clean the apartment, as I made Apple Walnut Rice and Citrus Chicken for the evening. The Potluck itself was, as always, a nice chance to sit down with friends, share wonderful food, listen to relaxing music, and chat. Once the potluck wrapped up around 11pm, I was overjoyed to discover that Yogurtland is open until midnight. Frozen Yogurt in California is sort of like a rite of passage, and Yogurtland is the best of the best, so Stevo simply had to try it before he headed back home to Houston. So saying, we set off for Yogurtland, only a mile away.
Of course, as luck would have it, a fun, lighthearted, late-night froyo run was where I was first pulled over in my entire life. As I prepared to turn left into the Yogurtland lot, following another car in front of me doing the same thing, a van in the parking lot began backing up (painfully slow). As we waited to turn in, the oncoming traffic got closer and closer, at which point I began backing up to get out of the way of traffic. Just as I started backing up, red and blue lights flashed directly in front of me, and a very angry cop shouted "PULL OVER!" out of his window. With Stevo in the car, I pulled over, fighting back tears and very much confused. It turns out that I had been trying to turn left over a double yellow line (just before the actual turning lane). I explained to the trooper what had happened, still trying not to cry. I think he felt bad about how upset I was, and I felt stupid for being so upset, but c'est la vie. He ended up letting me off with a warning, and I also have to go in to prove my car is registered, as I had taken my registration out of my car to fax a copy to my bank earlier in the week. As I started the car to drive away, I started sobbing, at which point Stevo remarked, "don't freak out, you didn't even get a ticket! It's okay. But if it had been a dude, he totally would have given him the ticket. You're lucky you're a girl and can just cry." Needless to say, crying was an involuntary action, but I suppose it proved worthwhile. Note to all of my actors out there. Well, at least the ladies. Our frozen yogurt was delicious regardless, and Stevo is now a Yogurtland convert. Thank you, cookies and cream frozen yogurt and cookie dough.
Monday we took it easy and slept in, which both of us needed. We went to Zeke's that evening for my "complimentary meal", which I had saved from my training week until my brother arrived to split it with me. We barely finished half of our sweet potato fries, ribs, brisket, chicken, sausage, beans, and potato salad - quite a feast, I'll admit, but not over-the-top for two people, as far as portions are concerned. We ended up taking the rest of the meal home with us and finishing it up on Tuesday, as a scrumptious BBQ chicken salad.
Tuesday we went to see "Toy Story 3", which I found to be a very heartwarming and clever movie. After sneaking into "Dinner for Schmucks" afterward, which is an entirely random (albeit goofy) movie, I have to just say how much I admire and respect movies today which are clever in both writing and nuance. Although I recognize the shift toward "random humor" reflects my own generation's parallel shift, I, for one, would rather see a movie which took creativity and genuine wit to manifest. Thank you, Pixar, for continuing to impress. Tuesday evening, we went back to Yogurtland for round two (and that night's dinner), which was not in the least healthy (maybe the lychee was?), but absolutely delicious and amazing. We ended the night eating froyo on my bed and watching "Gladiator", which Stevo lasted through for approximately ten minutes.
Although I was very sad to leave Stevo at LAX early on Wednesday morning, as I feel lonely out here on the golden coast, I was and will always be so grateful to be blessed with such incredible siblings. My brother and sister are my world; I would do anything for either of them at the drop of a pin. (My parents aren't so bad themselves and, as a favorite teacher once said, "they may be crazy, but they did something right, because they have three great kids." Aw shucks.) I am counting down the days until October, when I can be with my family again.
OH. And I suppose that brings up the announcement that I will be home in October for my grandparents' fiftieth wedding anniversary, which I am so happy for and proud of. So mark your calendars, all you Texans - I'm a comin'!
And with that, I'm off to sleep. Important audition tomorrow (updates to follow, pending successful audition!). Ciao!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
On the Set of "CHUCK"
Last Wednesday, I was on the set of "CHUCK" from 8:30am until 8:30pm, and it was a wonderful day! Even if my paycheck from Entertainment Partners totaled a measly $88, it was a day well worth my minimum-wage pay stub.
I showed up to the Warner Brothers lot at 8:15am, after parking at gate eight, and had to go through security. When the guard handed me the map with "Stage 10" circled, I almost had a heart attack when I saw how far I had to walk. I set off at a brisk walk-run, oversized bag of costume options and purse in tow, for Stage 10, the set for "CHUCK". I made it just before eight thirty, the call time for myself and the other "Russian Bus Riders", was sent over to the wardrobe trailer to have an outfit selected, changed into heavy winter wear (despite the ninety-degree Burbank weather), was shuttled away in a van to the area with the "Russian bus", and waited in a plastic chair under a shady, flowering tree to be called to the bus.
Within an hour or so, the group of around fifteen of us boarded the dusty, smelly Russian bus, they started filming, and five or six of us walked off of the bus, pretending to be chilled to the bone. We did about three takes, and then they sent our group back to the holding area, while the "LA bus" filmed their bit.
I checked out the craft services table (aka, the area where the free food is placed for the starving extras! Oh, and the cast and crew, they also use craft services). I was amazed at the large selection of healthy foods available; there was almond milk, trail mix, dried fruit, almond butter, fresh fruit, a vegetable tray, water with mint, Babybel cheese - it was divine! Of course, there were also Egg McMuffins and sugary cereals, but I was ecstatic to also find such a large variety of good foods. Hurray!
Following the filming of the LA bus scene, the casting liason sent most of the people home (about thirty-five), and hung on to six of us for later on in the day. This was more than fine by me. Some extras like to work only an hour and then go home, since you are guaranteed the first eight hours of pay regardless. I, on the other hand, think it makes more sense to spend as much time as possible on set, watching and listening and learning, and meeting people the right way, by being professional. Plus, even if I'm getting paid to sit around all day, I'm still getting to eat for free, right? So I was glad to stick around. I saw Yvonne Strahovski ride her bicycle up to set and walk around for a bit, gorgeous with her styled long hair and black business skirt and jacket. For those of you who were curious, she is quite the tall damsel (nearly 5'10"), and a very pretty Aussie.
After a couple of hours, the van brought us back over to Stage 4, where we were sent to an upstairs holding room on our official "walk-away" lunch break, meaning the point at which SAG is required to give us extras an hour-long break for lunch (and a walk-away means you have to find one yourself). Two of the other guys and myself peeked around the set downstairs, and asked one of the crew hands, "can we look around?" The guy shrugged his shoulders, "yeah, sure." So saying, we walked through the world of Chuck, including the kitchen, the living room, the bedrooms, the balcony.. even the little veranda with the waterfall in the courtyard, which I recognized as the location where, I believe, Chuck and Sarah first kissed. It was so neat to see how much attention to detail there was. And when a Warner Brothers' tour walked by and saw the three of us peeking around and guessed that we were actors, there was a silent sense of awe at their being in the presence of real, live actors from "CHUCK." (I didn't feel it was necessary to mention we were working as extras. Woops.)
After that, I wandered over to John Levey's office. John, who is the head of casting at Warner Brothers, met with me privately back in May, following a large "mock audition" (which any intelligent actor should read as REAL audition) with the CMU senior class. I figured it wouldn't hurt to peek in and say hello, but neither himself nor his assistant Melanie were to be found that afternoon. Oh well.
I took a bit of a nap in our holding area, as twenty new extras showed up, apparently to portray "airline passengers". I figured I would be sent home soon, but I was then sent to wardrobe and given a sleek, sexy, brown business travel suit, which looked awesome with my brown boots I had brought to set. Around 5pm, we all headed down to the indoor set for the evening, which featured a large greenscreen wall and a small airplane sections of maybe four rows of two seats apiece. I got picked to be a flight passenger, and they sat me down, with about six other actors, in this teeny-tiny plane recreation. And then, Zach Levi and Josh Gomez swapped places with the stand-ins in the row in front of me. We then filmed the take a few times, and then the extras were sent outside of the loading doors to wait for a bit, since the set itself was pretty cramped.
Now, to be honest, Zach Levi is a very handsome guy. The fact that he is as down-to-earth and downright funny in real life as he is on the show was heart-warming. While outside, he made small-talk with a small group of tourists walking by, and as I nearly tripped over a piece of wood sticking out from under a trailer as I walked past him, he jokingly commented, "hey, you might wanna watch out, there's a big piece of wood there." I smiled a huge grin to myself and kept walking (I was very aware of said board for the rest of the evening).
After a few minutes of waiting, the second assistant director - read: a big deal - came outside to where we were all standing, after having been told to pick a few of us to stick around. He looked around, his eyes fixed on me, and he quietly motioned me over. "Do you want to stay?" he asked in a whisper. Trying not to seem overly eager, I smiled and answered, "I would love to stay." So he kept me on and proceeded to quickly point out four other people to stick around. "Alright everybody else, you are done for the day, thank you."
Woohoo! The group of us were then used to film some shots of passports being stamped (they only filmed our hands stamping the passports). Now, I don't mean to be cruel, and I am an extra myself. But there are some dumb extras out there. It isn't that hard to slide a passport open, stamp the page, and slide the passport out of frame. Yet for some reason, this task proved to be exceptionally difficult for most of the people there. When I did this perfectly four or five time, the crew and director were elated, much to my happiness (as well as befuddlement). As the group of us cycled in and out for passport stamping, I got to watch Zach and Josh filming several takes with the greenscreen, all to the tune of James Bond music, and all hysterical. Everyone on set would hold their breath while the cameras were rolling, and then let out loud hoots and hollers once the red light went off, signaling to Zach and Josh both our admiration and appreciation of their comedic skills. When it came time an hour later to keep only two extras around for a few more scenes, the second ad once again picked me to stay, as well as a middle-aged Indian man. Even though he must have known at this point that I was in overtime (and thus earning a few dollars extra pay), the second ad let me stick around - I was thrilled! I got to speak for quite a bit with Zach Levi's stand-in, who had some excellent, non-condescending advice for me as someone trying to make it out here, starting off as an extra. His words of wisdom were:
*"Never sleep on set, even in holding as an extra. Keep your energy up and realize you are at work."
*"Ignore the people who want to give you tons of advice and talk your ear off. Read and listen to music."
*"Find out who the second AD is, and ask him or her what you need to do that day to get a SAG voucher. That's why you're an extra, to get your vouchers. Don't show up on set if you aren't willing to ask for them."
*"Join both unions a.s.a.p. Again, that's why you're doing this work, isn't it?"
*"All you need is three costume options, and leave your valuables in your car."
*"Always have headshots and resumes ready, as well as business cards."
While I already knew most of these things, I figured it couldn't hurt to write them down. In any event, it was refreshing to speak with someone who was so good-natured and who genuinely just wanted to give me some helpful advice as a newbie.
They then used myself and the Indian man to film four restaurant takes, where our hands were used to slide food into different place settings, two of which were fancy and two of which were dumpy. We worked on these takes for about an hour, during which time the Indian guy I was with kept trying to instruct the production crew in how the dishes and food should be set, and then physically moving the items around, even though they had already been set up the way the crew wanted them. I cringed and tried to send silent brainwaves to this man, a self-professed filmmaker who had randomly decided to try being an extra that day for fun, to be quiet and to stop making an ass of himself. My brainwaves didn't really work, but heck, I tried!
Around eight ten, we wrapped with filming for the night, I dashed over to the dinner area and packed up some salmon, roast, and grilled vegetables in a to-go box, and I caught sight of the second ad, whom I quickly stopped. "Here you go," I said, as I handed him my business card. "I really enjoyed working on your set today, and I'm working toward joining SAG, so please let me know if you need me again in the future." He nodded, looked over my card, and said, "thanks" with a smile. I was exhausted, but I was thrilled.
Tune in on September 20th to see me as an extra on "CHUCK" (Season 4, Episode I). You can see me as the Russian bus rider with the black coat and hat (the only blond), the woman on the airplane behind Chuck and Morgan, and as the set of hands with the passports, the credit cards, and the restaurant items. :) WIN.
I showed up to the Warner Brothers lot at 8:15am, after parking at gate eight, and had to go through security. When the guard handed me the map with "Stage 10" circled, I almost had a heart attack when I saw how far I had to walk. I set off at a brisk walk-run, oversized bag of costume options and purse in tow, for Stage 10, the set for "CHUCK". I made it just before eight thirty, the call time for myself and the other "Russian Bus Riders", was sent over to the wardrobe trailer to have an outfit selected, changed into heavy winter wear (despite the ninety-degree Burbank weather), was shuttled away in a van to the area with the "Russian bus", and waited in a plastic chair under a shady, flowering tree to be called to the bus.
Within an hour or so, the group of around fifteen of us boarded the dusty, smelly Russian bus, they started filming, and five or six of us walked off of the bus, pretending to be chilled to the bone. We did about three takes, and then they sent our group back to the holding area, while the "LA bus" filmed their bit.
I checked out the craft services table (aka, the area where the free food is placed for the starving extras! Oh, and the cast and crew, they also use craft services). I was amazed at the large selection of healthy foods available; there was almond milk, trail mix, dried fruit, almond butter, fresh fruit, a vegetable tray, water with mint, Babybel cheese - it was divine! Of course, there were also Egg McMuffins and sugary cereals, but I was ecstatic to also find such a large variety of good foods. Hurray!
Following the filming of the LA bus scene, the casting liason sent most of the people home (about thirty-five), and hung on to six of us for later on in the day. This was more than fine by me. Some extras like to work only an hour and then go home, since you are guaranteed the first eight hours of pay regardless. I, on the other hand, think it makes more sense to spend as much time as possible on set, watching and listening and learning, and meeting people the right way, by being professional. Plus, even if I'm getting paid to sit around all day, I'm still getting to eat for free, right? So I was glad to stick around. I saw Yvonne Strahovski ride her bicycle up to set and walk around for a bit, gorgeous with her styled long hair and black business skirt and jacket. For those of you who were curious, she is quite the tall damsel (nearly 5'10"), and a very pretty Aussie.
After a couple of hours, the van brought us back over to Stage 4, where we were sent to an upstairs holding room on our official "walk-away" lunch break, meaning the point at which SAG is required to give us extras an hour-long break for lunch (and a walk-away means you have to find one yourself). Two of the other guys and myself peeked around the set downstairs, and asked one of the crew hands, "can we look around?" The guy shrugged his shoulders, "yeah, sure." So saying, we walked through the world of Chuck, including the kitchen, the living room, the bedrooms, the balcony.. even the little veranda with the waterfall in the courtyard, which I recognized as the location where, I believe, Chuck and Sarah first kissed. It was so neat to see how much attention to detail there was. And when a Warner Brothers' tour walked by and saw the three of us peeking around and guessed that we were actors, there was a silent sense of awe at their being in the presence of real, live actors from "CHUCK." (I didn't feel it was necessary to mention we were working as extras. Woops.)
After that, I wandered over to John Levey's office. John, who is the head of casting at Warner Brothers, met with me privately back in May, following a large "mock audition" (which any intelligent actor should read as REAL audition) with the CMU senior class. I figured it wouldn't hurt to peek in and say hello, but neither himself nor his assistant Melanie were to be found that afternoon. Oh well.
I took a bit of a nap in our holding area, as twenty new extras showed up, apparently to portray "airline passengers". I figured I would be sent home soon, but I was then sent to wardrobe and given a sleek, sexy, brown business travel suit, which looked awesome with my brown boots I had brought to set. Around 5pm, we all headed down to the indoor set for the evening, which featured a large greenscreen wall and a small airplane sections of maybe four rows of two seats apiece. I got picked to be a flight passenger, and they sat me down, with about six other actors, in this teeny-tiny plane recreation. And then, Zach Levi and Josh Gomez swapped places with the stand-ins in the row in front of me. We then filmed the take a few times, and then the extras were sent outside of the loading doors to wait for a bit, since the set itself was pretty cramped.
Now, to be honest, Zach Levi is a very handsome guy. The fact that he is as down-to-earth and downright funny in real life as he is on the show was heart-warming. While outside, he made small-talk with a small group of tourists walking by, and as I nearly tripped over a piece of wood sticking out from under a trailer as I walked past him, he jokingly commented, "hey, you might wanna watch out, there's a big piece of wood there." I smiled a huge grin to myself and kept walking (I was very aware of said board for the rest of the evening).
After a few minutes of waiting, the second assistant director - read: a big deal - came outside to where we were all standing, after having been told to pick a few of us to stick around. He looked around, his eyes fixed on me, and he quietly motioned me over. "Do you want to stay?" he asked in a whisper. Trying not to seem overly eager, I smiled and answered, "I would love to stay." So he kept me on and proceeded to quickly point out four other people to stick around. "Alright everybody else, you are done for the day, thank you."
Woohoo! The group of us were then used to film some shots of passports being stamped (they only filmed our hands stamping the passports). Now, I don't mean to be cruel, and I am an extra myself. But there are some dumb extras out there. It isn't that hard to slide a passport open, stamp the page, and slide the passport out of frame. Yet for some reason, this task proved to be exceptionally difficult for most of the people there. When I did this perfectly four or five time, the crew and director were elated, much to my happiness (as well as befuddlement). As the group of us cycled in and out for passport stamping, I got to watch Zach and Josh filming several takes with the greenscreen, all to the tune of James Bond music, and all hysterical. Everyone on set would hold their breath while the cameras were rolling, and then let out loud hoots and hollers once the red light went off, signaling to Zach and Josh both our admiration and appreciation of their comedic skills. When it came time an hour later to keep only two extras around for a few more scenes, the second ad once again picked me to stay, as well as a middle-aged Indian man. Even though he must have known at this point that I was in overtime (and thus earning a few dollars extra pay), the second ad let me stick around - I was thrilled! I got to speak for quite a bit with Zach Levi's stand-in, who had some excellent, non-condescending advice for me as someone trying to make it out here, starting off as an extra. His words of wisdom were:
*"Never sleep on set, even in holding as an extra. Keep your energy up and realize you are at work."
*"Ignore the people who want to give you tons of advice and talk your ear off. Read and listen to music."
*"Find out who the second AD is, and ask him or her what you need to do that day to get a SAG voucher. That's why you're an extra, to get your vouchers. Don't show up on set if you aren't willing to ask for them."
*"Join both unions a.s.a.p. Again, that's why you're doing this work, isn't it?"
*"All you need is three costume options, and leave your valuables in your car."
*"Always have headshots and resumes ready, as well as business cards."
While I already knew most of these things, I figured it couldn't hurt to write them down. In any event, it was refreshing to speak with someone who was so good-natured and who genuinely just wanted to give me some helpful advice as a newbie.
They then used myself and the Indian man to film four restaurant takes, where our hands were used to slide food into different place settings, two of which were fancy and two of which were dumpy. We worked on these takes for about an hour, during which time the Indian guy I was with kept trying to instruct the production crew in how the dishes and food should be set, and then physically moving the items around, even though they had already been set up the way the crew wanted them. I cringed and tried to send silent brainwaves to this man, a self-professed filmmaker who had randomly decided to try being an extra that day for fun, to be quiet and to stop making an ass of himself. My brainwaves didn't really work, but heck, I tried!
Around eight ten, we wrapped with filming for the night, I dashed over to the dinner area and packed up some salmon, roast, and grilled vegetables in a to-go box, and I caught sight of the second ad, whom I quickly stopped. "Here you go," I said, as I handed him my business card. "I really enjoyed working on your set today, and I'm working toward joining SAG, so please let me know if you need me again in the future." He nodded, looked over my card, and said, "thanks" with a smile. I was exhausted, but I was thrilled.
Tune in on September 20th to see me as an extra on "CHUCK" (Season 4, Episode I). You can see me as the Russian bus rider with the black coat and hat (the only blond), the woman on the airplane behind Chuck and Morgan, and as the set of hands with the passports, the credit cards, and the restaurant items. :) WIN.
The Hiatus Resolved: Cow Tipping
Hello, dear and darling readers. I apologize for the week-long hiatus. Life got a little hectic, and then I was lucky enough to have my brother here for four days, during which time I took a break from the internet world. I am back and ready to write, and I shall keep writing at least every other day for you loyal readers out there. :) Just so y'all know, the fact that people actually follow the silly happenings of my life on the West Coast makes me immensely happy, and gives me fuel for fodder, so thank you.
I must first begin with the retelling of an absurd incident that speaks particularly to all the folks from Texas.
After working at Zeke's Smokehouse for roughly two weeks, I found myself bored one night. Often, when I'm bored, I draw or color - call it a childhood habit that has manifested itself into a full-blown DIY crafty, coloring obsession. I thought back to a saying that served me well while bartending: "Tipping: it's not just for cows anymore." When I bartended my first private party, this sign made everyone smile, and it also helped my tip jar out. I also felt this sign would make a perfect addition to a BBQ joint, so I proceeded to draw it out, in artsy-fartsy letters, on a little sign, which I placed next to our tip pail at the checkout counter. My manager that evening noticed the sign a few hours later, and he commented that it was funny and that I should leave it up. I grabbed a few pieces of tape and stuck it to the counter, pleased that my little piece of artwork had been so well received.
The following day, I came in to work, clocked in, and walked over to the register, where I noticed that my sign was nowhere to be seen. I paused for a second, very much confused, and turned to one of the waiters. "Did someone take down my sign?" I asked. "Yeah," he gloated. "Oh," I commented, beginning to be concerned, "who?" He smirked and replied, "the owner." At this point, panic washing up from my gut to my face like a wave of nausea, I hesitantly asked, "Oh no.. was she angry?" to which he replied - still smiling - "yeah, it was a little offensive. We've never had a sign before."
My brother and close friends and family can all attest to the fact that I am made upset very, very easily. It annoys me to no end, and even makes me angry, but the moment I feel I am in trouble with someone, I have borderline anxiety attacks. I almost always have to fight back tears, I get choked up.. it's ridiculously embarrassing. When I was in seventh grade and was sent to the Vice Principal's office for a very petty dress code violation, I was such a wreck by the time I got there that he had to calm me down before telling me it wasn't really that big of a deal, and that I just needed to change my shirt. No biggie. But to me, it was apocalyptic in scope. The owner of the restaurant being infuriated at my boldness as a new employee nearly sent me into hysterics.
I continued prepping the area around the register, trying to stay busy, and sipped water out of my plastic cup in an attempt to calm down. The owner (rather, his wife, but the same difference in this case) was busy with other items of business around the restaurant, and I kept going back and forth in my head as to whether or not I should profess my unending apology to this woman to prevent being fired. I kicked myself for assuming I could put up a sign in a classy establishment without first asking. And then I noticed the owner's wife striding toward me, purse in hand as though she were about to leave. I gulped and feigned a smile, trying to mentally prepare for the coming outburst.
"Chelsea, hun," she kindly remarked, "about your sign-". Cue interruption of excessive verbal diarrhea, when I tried to explain without taking in any air that I was very sorry and would never again do something so outlandish as make a tip sign.
"Oh no," she replied, "I don't really mind the sign. I mean, we've never had one here, but we have one at our other location. I just didn't know what the sign meant, and somebody had to explain it to me." My eyebrows began to partially unfurl, as I found myself utterly confused. She continued, "once someone explained to me what 'cow tipping' was, and that people actually do that, I was just horrified! That's so horrible! So, I don't mind if you want to make a little sign, just maybe something a little different? The other restaurant has one that says, 'support counter intelligence', and I think something like that would be cute." She then smiled and walked away.
Stunned, my desire to cry quickly shifted to a burning desire to laugh. Here I was, positive I was about to lose my job, and over what? The restaurant owner was offended over the concept of cow tipping.
Seriously? Did that moment really just happen?
Needless to say, my shift improved immensely as the evening progressed. But as a word to the wise, all you Southerners out there, beware: people on the coasts can be touchy, when it comes to cows. I'm just saying.
I must first begin with the retelling of an absurd incident that speaks particularly to all the folks from Texas.
After working at Zeke's Smokehouse for roughly two weeks, I found myself bored one night. Often, when I'm bored, I draw or color - call it a childhood habit that has manifested itself into a full-blown DIY crafty, coloring obsession. I thought back to a saying that served me well while bartending: "Tipping: it's not just for cows anymore." When I bartended my first private party, this sign made everyone smile, and it also helped my tip jar out. I also felt this sign would make a perfect addition to a BBQ joint, so I proceeded to draw it out, in artsy-fartsy letters, on a little sign, which I placed next to our tip pail at the checkout counter. My manager that evening noticed the sign a few hours later, and he commented that it was funny and that I should leave it up. I grabbed a few pieces of tape and stuck it to the counter, pleased that my little piece of artwork had been so well received.
The following day, I came in to work, clocked in, and walked over to the register, where I noticed that my sign was nowhere to be seen. I paused for a second, very much confused, and turned to one of the waiters. "Did someone take down my sign?" I asked. "Yeah," he gloated. "Oh," I commented, beginning to be concerned, "who?" He smirked and replied, "the owner." At this point, panic washing up from my gut to my face like a wave of nausea, I hesitantly asked, "Oh no.. was she angry?" to which he replied - still smiling - "yeah, it was a little offensive. We've never had a sign before."
My brother and close friends and family can all attest to the fact that I am made upset very, very easily. It annoys me to no end, and even makes me angry, but the moment I feel I am in trouble with someone, I have borderline anxiety attacks. I almost always have to fight back tears, I get choked up.. it's ridiculously embarrassing. When I was in seventh grade and was sent to the Vice Principal's office for a very petty dress code violation, I was such a wreck by the time I got there that he had to calm me down before telling me it wasn't really that big of a deal, and that I just needed to change my shirt. No biggie. But to me, it was apocalyptic in scope. The owner of the restaurant being infuriated at my boldness as a new employee nearly sent me into hysterics.
I continued prepping the area around the register, trying to stay busy, and sipped water out of my plastic cup in an attempt to calm down. The owner (rather, his wife, but the same difference in this case) was busy with other items of business around the restaurant, and I kept going back and forth in my head as to whether or not I should profess my unending apology to this woman to prevent being fired. I kicked myself for assuming I could put up a sign in a classy establishment without first asking. And then I noticed the owner's wife striding toward me, purse in hand as though she were about to leave. I gulped and feigned a smile, trying to mentally prepare for the coming outburst.
"Chelsea, hun," she kindly remarked, "about your sign-". Cue interruption of excessive verbal diarrhea, when I tried to explain without taking in any air that I was very sorry and would never again do something so outlandish as make a tip sign.
"Oh no," she replied, "I don't really mind the sign. I mean, we've never had one here, but we have one at our other location. I just didn't know what the sign meant, and somebody had to explain it to me." My eyebrows began to partially unfurl, as I found myself utterly confused. She continued, "once someone explained to me what 'cow tipping' was, and that people actually do that, I was just horrified! That's so horrible! So, I don't mind if you want to make a little sign, just maybe something a little different? The other restaurant has one that says, 'support counter intelligence', and I think something like that would be cute." She then smiled and walked away.
Stunned, my desire to cry quickly shifted to a burning desire to laugh. Here I was, positive I was about to lose my job, and over what? The restaurant owner was offended over the concept of cow tipping.
Seriously? Did that moment really just happen?
Needless to say, my shift improved immensely as the evening progressed. But as a word to the wise, all you Southerners out there, beware: people on the coasts can be touchy, when it comes to cows. I'm just saying.
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