"I'm not that small an actor."

I’ve been bouncing back and forth between New Jersey and New York like a commuter with a mistress I can excuse easily to the wife (if only I was getting reimbursed for transit by my company). I was grounded for a while last week with a four day fever that finally let up the morning of my birthday. The day before the first day of my 24th year, I hopped myself up on Motrin and did a reading of a new play, All is Always Now by Robert Wray, the most acting I’ve done since my little stint as the most helpful of modern tools. It was jarring, but exciting all the same.

My one complaint was that I didn’t have too much to do—in a developing script that only stands at about 38 pages, I was in about the last three. It’s difficult for an actor to know what they’ve done when they have a small part. People mostly connect gripes regarding a mini-sized role directly to an actor’s ego, but it is, in a strictly practical way, difficult. I’ve had leads and parts that were practically walk-ons, and they’re all difficult—acting is hard—but the tough part about the smaller ones is that it’s often hard to see how your character fits in with the action, most of which has been going on without you and independent of what your character wants or needs. This is not always the case and it would be a lie to say so. But it was true in terms of this reading, though I have been told that Margo, the actress that I portrayed for the last three pages, is more developed as the story goes on. So while I think the reading went off well, and I hope Robert got some meaningful feedback to help him finish—and I assure you, my part is supposed to get bigger—I have no idea how I did personally. I can’t even make the usual self- deprecating, humbling assessment of my work, which has become my habit (though secretly or in great moments of inebriation, I do think I am the shit). I truly have no idea. But I do know that it made me hungry and ancy to get back to it—I’ve been in hibernation too long, and I’m ready to play again.

My visa came today! Hooray! One less thing to have a heart attack over.

Other than the visa and the reading, not too much else is going on here, except that I have one week left in the country. And I still haven’t packed my brand new luggage. Not one iota.

Denial, denial, denial…

"what they wanted I didn't have/and what I had/they didn't want."

Wednesday I received a UPS package from the British Consulate. I had assumed this was to be my visa. I was wrong. Apparently I was supposed to send my physical passport to the consulate, not just a color copy which was what I had sent off--in this day and age, the idea of letting my passport out of sight is frightening. So today I'll be getting a certified check made out for $12 (the mailing fee for the next time the BC tries to send me anything) and returning all of my paperwork, complete with actual passport, back to the BC. I'm concerned about how long it's going to take. I'm concerned about having my passport out of reach. And I'm concerned that I will get neither back in time to get on the plane at 9PM on the 30th.

Other than that, I have been trying to decide what to pack. I've talked myself into taking only five books with me, and only five movies, however I may ammend the latter and allow myself those five movies and all my seasons of Battlestar Galactica. Because, let's face it--I'll be lost without it. Here's what I have thus far:

1) Julie Taymor: Playing with Fire
2) History of the Theatre by Brockett
3) My copy of The Little Prince, circa 1943 (I like the older translation better)
4) The Pythons: Autobiography by the Pythons
5) TBA

The thing about choices 1 ,2, & 4 is that they are all weighty coffee table books. So one asks if there's much point in bringing three books that each weigh a little over a pound each. And now, the movies:

1) Trainspotting
2) Amelie
3) Withnail and I
4) Finding Nemo
5) TBD

Number five is going to be a really hard choice. Not as hard as trying to get on a plane without a passport or a visa. But I'm sure you understand.

Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!! Why can't life just fall in place already?! I am D-R-O-W-N-I-N-G here, damn it!

I've also become terribly curious of all the hits my blog has gotten lately from out of the US visitors. Who are you people? Make yourselves known, please!

"The soul intention is learning to fly/Condition grounded but determined to try"

The Central paperwork came in while I was home last week, informing me that I needed to be in county to register for classes on the 2nd of October. After some juggling of paperwork and phone calls to STA, I was able to change my flight to the 30th of September. So I'm leaving four days earlier, and missing my best friend's wedding consequently. I find it interesting that huge life changes are happening to the two of us at the same time, even though they are vastly different happenings. I'm sad to be missing Kate's day though, and my first chance at bridesmaid-dom, though I am certain this will not be my last opportunity. I got word today that I would be able to check into my housing earlier, so I'm all set those extra few days, which was a relief.

My biometrics appointment for my visa was the other day, and was done in about ten minutes. I showed up, got finger-printed, and went on my way. Later in the afternoon, while running into Jim True-Frost at the post office, I mailed the following items to the British Consulate, all support documents to my visa application:

• A passport sized photo (that I had taken earlier in the morning at a Walgreen's)
• A copy of my current passport
• A copy of my expired passport
• A copy of my bank statement
• A copy of my acceptance letter
• A copy of a second acceptance letter, specifying the hours I'm to spend in school
• A copy of my plane ticket
• A copy of my completed visa application (10+ pages long)
• My stamped biometrics appointment confirmation paper
• A copy of my college diploma

The sooner my visa comes, the better, and one more weight will be lifted from my mind. Also, I hear they're awful pretty.

Still, missing Kate's wedding reminds me of a fear I've had all my life: that I'll have to sacrifice people, or significant events in my friends' lives because of my commitment to my work or my life as an artist. Maybe that's just me "seeing the red lights," as some one put it to me recently: identifying my artistic sensibilities as the problem when it's really just that sometimes a person's life conflicts with another person's. But because of the significant amount of self-examination and introspection that comes with this kind of lifestyle, there is always a question of how to balance art production as a career (something that is hardly "stable") and that other thing, what some people refer to as "real life." This somewhat mythic "real life" includes things like marriages that actually function, having and raising children, some kind of mortgage or property management, possibly a 401K, and maybe even a traditional yearly vacation. This "real life" is the American dream--did I mention there's a pool?--and comes with hard work, small sacrifice, and more easily with a typical 9-5 job with an annual raise than with hocking clown pieces and doing a tap dance. (If you don't believe me, ask my mother.) So how do you do what you love and feed your soul, and still make rent, and put away for that college fund? And can you get to all those weddings in the meantime?

I have no intention of compromise. I will have my life, and maybe a mortgage too (though out right ownership is always preferred). But sometimes living your life means missing a wedding.

Take lots of pictures, Kate. I'm sad to miss it.

Out of the Empire, Into the Garden

Hello, my six loyal readers! Did you miss me?

I'm back in New Jersey again. I was here two weeks ago for a few days, then went up to Newburyport, Massachusetts for a HUGE Irish family wedding, then headed straight back to the city where I remained until this afternoon when I returned to New Jersey again, going straight to a dinner with the mother of my best friend from grade/high school who is getting married on the 4th of October. I'm in the wedding party and we needed to discuss "business," as it were. And if the date, October 4th, seems familiar for any reason, it's probably because I may have mentioned that's the EXACT DAY I AM FLYING OVER TO ENGLAND. I go to the wedding, stand for pictures, do one hour of cocktails, then dash to the airport to make my boarding time. A friend of mine said, "Sounds like the beginning of a romantic comedy to me." I sure hope so, but Clive Owen is already taken, and anything else will just be a disappointment. Be that as it may, the agenda for that day, rushed as it is, pretty much seems to echo what's going to be happening for the next month and change--one thing after another, right up until I fly away. It's kind of overwhelming, but part of that I think has to do with the fact I haven't had a chance to really sit down and look at my schedule totally fleshed out. I'm coming in blind, and that's always stressful. And stress is not something I should be readily subjecting myself to, especially given my surroundings.

My parents recently moved to a small condo from the house I spent most of my formative years in, biding time and saving money on property taxes till they move into Another house that they'll stay in for a few years until they retire in Georgia. It's a cute, temporary home, and everything seems to fit pretty well, although I still have several boxes stacked in my two closets. (That's right, New York apartment dwellers: TWO closets. In my bedroom. Built in. Go ahead: Weep.) There's a teeny yard out back, and I look forward to sitting out with my beloved cat, Pirate--who is so much better than bully Luke Skywalker back in the NYC apartment--taking jogs out to the nearby reservoir, visiting local farmers' markets, driving again (despite the price of gas), and visiting the mall for goodness sakes.

And yet, with all of these pieces of goodness, there is lack of contentment. It's the human condition--what can you do? I'd be lying if I didn't admit that after fourteen hours of being here on my first day back that I was utterly, completely, and seemingly hopelessly B-O-R-E-D. Coming back from the city every year during undergrad became a sort of experiment in tolerance to change in environment, a large factor being what time things close around here:

LEA:
"What do you mean I can't get an everything bagel, toasted, with veggie cream cheese and lox delivered to me? It's only 1AM! No, no--What is your problem, guy?!"

The hazard of the suburbs is of course the "family factor"--everyone has one, or they're looking to, and so to support this they keep hours that would be acceptable for living such a life. And so every store closes at 6PM (occasionally 9 on the weekends), lights go out along the highway at restaurants and bars, and most parties break up around 11PM. This is terribly contrary to Big City Living.

The town I'm in is also basically comprised of one strip of road off a major highway (not the Turnpike, you jerks) that contains the following: a church, complete with graveyard; a door store--barns, domestic, etc; the Dollhouse Factory<--this may be the most fascinating part of this town, and I will try to explore tomorrow; a motorcycle shop; a mom and pop establishment that may be a staple for breakfasts over a copy of the Courier News or Star Ledger (I have yet to find the Times in any "local" establishment); a pricey yet atmospheric resturant called the Lebanon Hotel, that has its own tavern, the Fox and the Hound; a Stewart's; a lot of houses.

That's pretty much it.

But moving away from these suburban dulldroms, I do have some progress to report in terms of moving to John Bull's Island.

1. At a recent dentist's appointment I found out that despite having not had a cleaning or formal dentist appointment in over two years, I had no cavities! Hooray! This is especially exciting, as it proves that I can take care of my teeth reasonably well, which will be very important given where I'll be living next year. "Land-of-Notoriously-Bad-Dental-Care" here I come!
   
2. I FINALLY FINISHED MY ON-LINE VISA APPLICATION. And I paid for it. I'm $220 less rich than I was before, and I have an appointment at the visa office in NYC next Thursday (when I'll be back in town--"Transitory" is my middle name!). More on gathering the appropriate paperwork for said appointment in the coming days--I promise!
   
3. Housing has been confirmed and the deposit has been paid-->15 GPS non-refundable processing fee, and a 250GPS deposit for my space. If you want to see my digs, take the virtual tour here. It comes with its own electric kettle!
   
4. The exchange rate has gone down! Not by much, mind, but every little counts. Back in April it had gone up around $2.11 to the pound, and now it's down at $1.86. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it adds up--trust me. And it made my day.
   

I'd stay longer and continue to wax philosophical, but it's late here in the near-wilderness, and not even Turner Classic Movies can entice me to stay up. More about feelings another time, if at all. We all know I hate that. Well, you six do, anyway.

You six. You know.

"Should I Stay Or Should I Go Now?"

Liza Cucco, fellow soon-to-be-ex-patriot, herself going to London to get her masters in art this fall, expressed the other day in a Facebook note her wariness regarding the move. So much wariness in fact, that she is considering deferring for one year in order to work and save up money to pay off the mounting debt from the student loans she'll have to take on. I'm worried about loans myself, and as I've been fortunate to not have one yet, the whole concept is foreign to me. What is a loan? Where can I get one? Who gives them out? What's a private loan versus other kinds of loans? What loan will get me the most money without killing me with interest later on? Or killing me with repaying it? These questions I ask myself, shaking in my bed in a cold sweat. It's okay though--it's been so humid lately, I happy for the relief. Even if it is giving me an ulcer.

I have a friend whose minimum monthly payment for his undergrad loan is $1,000. He's just 24 years old, a struggling actor (read: waiter), and I'm not sure he knows how he's going to get out of this. And I don't envy him. Now, granted, he disappeared for a bit, hitchhiking through Canada for several months in a row last year, doing odd jobs just to cover food and other small expenses, so it's not like he made himself available to take care of this financial situation back in the states. But it's sad to think that five or so months of precociousness could screw you that much.

I guess that's adulthood.

I myself have been feeling the growing pains a lot lately, falling away from the parental safety net (or rather, out of it), grappling with the fact that I will actually have to really take care of myself this time around, so far away from everything and everyone I know, save Heidi. I have enough money to cover my tuition and a little extra, but if the market continues on this trend--and most likely it will--that money's going to decrease before I get over there, leaving me with an even greater housing bill. School is only meant to take up 25 hours a week, so if I can get a job on top of that, it would be helpful. But I worry about my flagrant lack of responsibility--I sometimes act as if, if I could avoid taking any, I could avoid growing up. But that's ridiculous, of course. And I suppose now's the time to stop all this foolishness.

Still, the thought from Liza was beating on the sides of my brain the other day. If I had the chance, would I stay? I considered it for a little bit--the whole quandary reminded me of the song Banjo sings in The Man Who Came To Dinner (hence the picture of Jimmy Durante at the head of this entry), one of my all time favorite plays/play-to-movie adaptations. But my answer is a resounding "NO!" I feel lately I don't have any reason to stay--New York bores me, America bores me, my job bores me, realism bores me, drama (personal people kind) bores me. I feel totally uninspired and the malaise that's settled around me is the worst. I remember a single thought that kept resonating with me largely throughout this past winter, that I may have mentioned before, which was that I wanted something so new I couldn't even name it. And I think this thing, this whole journey that is still a big mystery in so many ways, I think that's it. So even though I have a feeling that I want to stay, I have to yield to the feeling of wanting to go. Even though the song is opposite. And I really do love that song!

I'm trying to get my visa app done by the end of next week. Wish me luck.

General Update--Housing, Lighting, and Robots

So I've been gone for a bit, and I apologize to my five loyal readers. Here's an overview of what's been going on...

I got word just yesterday that I got housing one of the University of London's Intercollegiate Halls, College Hall. Uni of London is associated with Central, and so housing is available through them to wayward students like me. The cost is going to come to 25.80 pound sterling a night, making that a little over $1,500 a month in American money. Yeep. But the savings really comes in the fact that the Hall also provides two meals a day, and since food is usually where I pour all my money into anyway, I'll at least be able to cut costs there. And finally having housing also means: I can finally finish my visa application.

It must be said that the only reason I applied at all is because my roommate had the gumption to go hunting about the university's website and found out about it, which leads me to ask the question: if Heidi wasn't around, would I actually be doing any of this myself? I worry that the answer is "no," and am ashamed at the codependency this process has brought out in me. In the process of applying, at some point I said to Heidi, who's been having some of the same misgivings as I about this journey, "I think one day we're just going to have to suck it up and accept that we're really going." And maybe that's the problem: the MAJOR DENIAL permeates still. But let's save the psycho-babble for my therapist, shall we? I think it best, yes.

I have been spending most of my time the past few weeks--hence the length of my absence from my blog--running tech for my theatre company's show, A Devil Inside.
It's a good little play with a hilarious script, and a couple truly stand-out performances. I was running lights for the show, as well as projections, and I have to tell you: as an actor, nothing is more painful than watching other people act, knowing you're not allowed to join in the fun. Being an audience member is different--you appreciate your role in that piece of theatre as being more separate from the production. But being involved, but not in the way you'd prefer is...painful. There's no beating around the bush. While I really love those people, I'm happy the play is over, because my ego needs a different kind of stroking all together. A huge part of doing this kind of work that is hard for me, is that it feels so cut off from any creative process. The design was set--the cues were even being run off a laptop (as were the projections), so I didn't have to adjust anything by hand. It was kind of mindless. In an effort to feel like I was doing anything to serve the action on stage (such an actor...), I tried to look at the timing of the lights and projections as having it's own part in the dialogue, that they were helping to shape the narrative to a story similarly. I genuinely think that they do. And on a good day, that was enough. But for someone who's been trained as an actor for so long, and who's had a substantial break from her last acting challenge (four months is like an ETERNITY--GPS units do not constitute a challenge), and who's waiting around to go to school for acting--I'm like chomping at the bit, people!

It got frustrating. I told myself this would be a good way to find out if I could do all aspects of theatre with an open heart and enthusiasm. Well, I've found out: I cannot. I do not like this thing, and have no intention of ever doing it again. Unless it's for money. And I mean A LOT of money. Or for the sake of my own, or a loved one's piece. But they better be taking me out to a lobster dinner afterwards. ("For serious.")

So yes--lesson learned, and I hope you don't mind that par-can shining in your face.

Luckily for me, through all this mental stress of reality knocking on my door with a batteringram, escapism only costs about $11.75 in Manhattan. Consequently, I've been able to catch the new Pixar movie, Wall-E, a couple times, at a minimal cost. And for the second viewing, my ticket was bought for me. W00t!

I should take a moment and say: I love Pixar. It is one of the few production companies I would love to work for in any capacity (Though that may not be completely true, considering the above revelation re: backstage work. I'm too glory hungry.). Any company that holds contests for dressing up the ugliest and whose executives have offices that are full of toys sounds like the place for me.

Wall-E is all around great for lots of reasons (I could seriously go on FOR-E-VER), but chief amongst them are the elements of classical clown the lead character has about him. Watching this little robot is like watching a Charlie Chaplin movie. The discovery and curiousity, the physical specificity, the optimism--it's all there. And of course there's nothing like watching something that isn't human experience things like love and self-sacrifice, to remind you what's best about your species and (you hope) your own existence. That's the whole point of Ariel recognizing that Prospero should show the royals mercy at the end of The Tempest, right? (Ln. 23) I wonder if I'll be able to create something like that while at school, something to remind people of their own humanity. We shall see.

Other than that, work has been a little crazy, I start training my replacement today, and I have (of course) been neglecting my TT homework. And I move out most of my things this coming Sunday, so that's...stressful. And I'm not packed of all. Of course.

Help, please.

FAFSA: Done!

T-minus two days to the submission of the FAFSA* deadline, and I used this afternoon to complete it. The show I'm running lights for (more on that another time) was sadly called after only two people showed for it. There's another this evening, and we'll probably fair better. But it worked out for me, since I could use the time to do this.

All that's left is the visa, but that can't actually get done till I know where I'm living. So send vibes out for me there.

"Baby steps to the door, baby steps to the door..."

*Incidentally, I've been referring to the FAFSA as FASA, as no one ever seems to pronounce that final "F" in the acronym, and I ran with it. My apologies. Funnily enough, FASA can stand for Freedonian Aeronautics and Space Administration, an RPG company that references Duck Soup in their titleage.<--I didn't know that off hand, I swear! (I'm such a closet geek.)

Hilarity in the visa process.

Filling out the visa application on-line, I came to a page with these questions, which struck me as pretty amusing. I hope you agree. Ask yourself the following:

1. In times of either peace or war have you‚ ever been involved in‚ or suspected of involvement in‚ war crimes‚ crimes against humanity or genocide?

2. Have you ever been involved in‚ supported‚ or encouraged terrorist activities in any country? Have you‚ ever been a member of‚ or given support to an organisation [sic] that has been concerned in terrorism?

3. Have you ever‚ by any means or medium‚ expressed views that justify or glorify terrorist violence or that may encourage others to terrorist acts or other serious criminal acts?

4. Have you engaged in any other activities that might indicate that you may not be considered a person of good character?
   
   

"You used to be alright/What happened?"

Okay, this blog has gotten a little off topic, what with the Suzuki notes and the comic book conventions, so I figured now would be a good time for a little check-in* regarding where I am with the school process, etc. So here we go.

• I'm not excited, no. Please stop asking. The question comes up a lot, with knowing and expectant smiles on people's faces. But aside from my classmates who recognized the school's name at my Suzuki intensive the other day which brought out a bit of pride ("Here are people who really get where I'm going"), I have to say normally my reaction is a polite "yes," but inside I'm all, "not really." It's still too distant and too much of an unreality to be exciting, aided in part by the list below.
  
• I have not filled out my FASA yet. My room is jumbled mess, and somewhere, underneath the sizable dumping ground at the foot of my bed, in front of my dresser, in the great bosom of dirty clothing and discarded stuff (all sorts) buried, is my tax folder that I need to fill out my FASA. I haven't cleaned my room in almost a month, so I've not yet unearthed the paperwork. Filling out a FASA also requires a sizable amount of time, and that I just do not seem to have. Ever.
  
• I have not applied for my Visa yet. This costs $200, and I don't have it to spare, so I'm putting it off and putting it off and putting it off, while not putting away they monies I need to pay for it. (Lack of discipline regarding money is pretty flagrant with me, and has kind of been a life long problem. I was hoping I would be more responsible by now, and that it wouldn't follow me through this process. It has.)
  
• I still have no idea where I'm going to live. Which is troubling. The school is associated with the University of London, and while student housing is somewhat available for grad students, you have to make an appointment to see the space you'd be living in beforehand, and sign off on a paper saying you're okay with it. I am not able to travel to London before term (I'll be getting in literally a day before school starts) and so have no opportunity to do this. There is some kind of list serve that current students use to post available rooms for other students, but that's also with my acceptance paperwork, again lost in the room somewhere, so I haven't gotten onto the board. Also I'm in denial, and that's done it's fair share of keeping me away from actualizing anything like this.
  
• I'm still not technically a yoga teacher. Here we come into the "unfinished business" category. Besides having some loose ends with certain individuals in my life, there are some logistical things that need sorting out. One of these is my yoga teacher certification. I did a teacher training intensive in January, and due to my insane schedule that month (8 hours of training for five days a week, working part time three-four days a week, rehearsing two plays...the mind boggles) I opted to not do any of my homework, since we can hand it in late. I also, however, did not do my take home test. Part of getting ready is to secure my diploma from Yoga Works, so when I get over to England, I can try to get a job teaching, or maybe have the opportunity to teach privates (under the table=no British taxes!). But getting the diploma involves me sitting down and doing a month's work of homework, and a test that takes about two weeks to finish. And I'd have to pass it. I'm daunted by the paperwork (again: PAPERS!!!) and trying to excite myself to do it is hard, hard work.
  

Have I become, as I feared, one of those people who list out all of their problems on their blog and take no action in their life to affect the change necessary?

Maybe.

(Shit.)

But instead of that, I will try to use this as a check list for what has yet to be done, and hopefully it will help me step up and take some responsibility, once and for all!

That's what adulthood is about, isn't it?


*For the record, I hate the phrase, "Check-in." Saying "just checking in," however, seems acceptable, and has a lovely place in my heart, left over from a year of driving up to my friend Amanda's house and calling up to her window from the drive way, "Just checking in!" and then staying for dinner. Double standard, I know. I don't care.