Three simple steps for how to take advantage of having a brain tumor.
1. Get a brain tumor.
I've only told a few people about it so far, but I have a brain tumor. It's not a big deal or anything, (but I can't tell you that because of step 2).
Apparently about 10% of the population has tiny benign brain tumors that are just there not hurting anyone. Mine is probably one of those. It's 3mm and pushing up against my pituitary causing a slight increase in prolactin. Odds are it's just a tiny guy with no ambition, but we'll give it a few months before checking it again to see if it might be a grower. Either way, there's not much to do at the moment. It's too small for surgery and if it looks like it won't grow, I could just let it sit there forever. There's another option where I take a pill once a week for about 2 years which will shrink it to nothing. I'll be nauseous the first couple months I take the pill, but I hear that passes. So yeah. As far as brain tumors go, I think I got the best kind.
2. Use your brain tumor as a trump card in every single discussion/debate/sentence.
Even though my brain tumor has now been reduced to a little trifle in your mind (is that an irony or a pun?), you still maintain a bit of shock and guilt. I will now harness those feelings and tack on the following:
3. Add an ask, people will comply because tumor guilt is a thing (at least I hope it is. I mean...I may be remembering things wrong--I don't know if you heard, but I have a brain tumor).
I'm auditioning for a great film project whose basis is very close to my heart--Oktoberfest. I could really use your help. Please go to this link and watch the video then vote for me to play the role of Freddie. You'll make both me and my tiny tumor very happy:
http://oktoberfestmovie.com/contestants/vinnie-duyck/
4. Sit back and see how people react.
P.S. Yes I do have a brain tumor and it's tiny and benign. That's not a bit. Also please do vote for me, I'd like to do this film; I want to show my tumor a good time.
5. Always thank people.
Thank you, people!
Bite size nuggets of self-helptual inspirationality.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Friday, August 9, 2013
Monday, March 4, 2013
Today's Special: Basil Raspberry Lemonade
As I sip my Basil Raspberry Lemonade in this cafe, a couple sits at the table in front of me.
It's fascinating to see a couple out in public sitting together at a table and rather than address each other, they busy themselves in newspapers. Are they really together or just sharing a space in public?
Who am I to question these people when I myself am here just to say hi and possibly flirt with one of the wait staff because she's a friend and said I should stop by. I'm sitting alone at a table as she serves this couple next to me. We're all in the same room physically, but socially in our own worlds.
Oh wait, I think the girl at the table said something. I can tell from her accent that she's from Australia. It's thick. There, a conversation. Brief, with some laughter and anger, and already over. Back to the paper for both of them. His whole body is turned away from her, off to the side of the table to better accommodate the newspaper over his lap. He's more open to the rest of the strangers in the cafe than to the person he's sitting with. The news of strangers lives trump what is more present. How accessible is news written down by, from and about strangers when someone you know who is alive sits right there beside you?
I take a sip of my lemonade.
Movement. He gets up and grabs some sugar packets from the counter. In the moment he sits down he's unwittingly opened himself up for conversation. After a few seconds I realize they're talking about the news stories they've read and not about the details of their own lives. They talk about the outside world as if there is no news of their own lives, only what they read. Have they grown tired of each other, run out of themselves, or worse-walled up parts of themselves they refuse to share so they fill that space with other people's stories?
I take another sip from my lemonade. I'm just attempting to look deep and intriguing by writing furiously on a sheet of college ruled notebook paper in the black folder I carry in my backback, which is sitting on the chair across from me, showing how my mind is so taken by my work I can't allow for the distraction of another person at my own table. I won't forget to occasionally check my phone between glances at the girl who invited me to visit her work in the first place.
Life smiles at you in the oddest ways. Sometimes it's just having a laugh at your expense. Other times its smiling because it knows what's going to happen next. Either way I suggest smiling back. It makes you look less lost.
Back to reading the news. Page A2 is more intriguing than an attractive person across the table. She read something that surprised her and shared it with him. The conversation was brief and they are back in their papers to consume the news.
How much past do humans share? Is it more than our future?
I don't think I've ever been in a relationship long enough to just read together. If we're in the same room I feel the need to share. Something. When learning to drive, my dad told me "when you're driving on the road, you're driving on the road. You're not at the party you're driving to, you're not with your friends last night, your mind must be where you're at-driving on the road." When I'm alone I often drift to other lands, but when I'm with someone I care about, it's difficult for me to escape mentally somewhere else for long. I still do it, but the gravitational pull of the other always brings me back. Maybe that kind of long-term relationship perspective is not one I want.
Time for the bill. Papers down, heads up. Chatter. He drops his card and heads outside to smoke. He stands on the other side of the window right next to the table. He fake punches at her outside the glass dividing them and walks away to light his cigarette.
She is in her phone. He stares at the front page of the Wall Street Journal dispenser outside, heads back to the window to glance at the LA Weekly sitting on my side of the glass. He'd grab it if he could. He reads the sandwich board outside and paces about, finishing his cigarette. I'm sure in his pacing he read the bus bench ad for a realty company. He sees that my friend finished charging his card and returned it to his table. He comes in, signs the bill and asks the woman "ready?" without sitting down. As she stands up she asks "grab the paper?" which he does, and they walk out the door.
Left behind are used cups, the signed check, a stack of ads from the paper and me. Still alone at my table with my words and lined paper. Furiously writing down the story of the people I watched as I drank my Basil raspberry lemonade.
The table is cleaned and a new couple take their place, intently reading the menus.
I pay my friend, smile and leave to walk down the road back to my apartment.
It's fascinating to see a couple out in public sitting together at a table and rather than address each other, they busy themselves in newspapers. Are they really together or just sharing a space in public?
Who am I to question these people when I myself am here just to say hi and possibly flirt with one of the wait staff because she's a friend and said I should stop by. I'm sitting alone at a table as she serves this couple next to me. We're all in the same room physically, but socially in our own worlds.
Oh wait, I think the girl at the table said something. I can tell from her accent that she's from Australia. It's thick. There, a conversation. Brief, with some laughter and anger, and already over. Back to the paper for both of them. His whole body is turned away from her, off to the side of the table to better accommodate the newspaper over his lap. He's more open to the rest of the strangers in the cafe than to the person he's sitting with. The news of strangers lives trump what is more present. How accessible is news written down by, from and about strangers when someone you know who is alive sits right there beside you?
I take a sip of my lemonade.
Movement. He gets up and grabs some sugar packets from the counter. In the moment he sits down he's unwittingly opened himself up for conversation. After a few seconds I realize they're talking about the news stories they've read and not about the details of their own lives. They talk about the outside world as if there is no news of their own lives, only what they read. Have they grown tired of each other, run out of themselves, or worse-walled up parts of themselves they refuse to share so they fill that space with other people's stories?
I take another sip from my lemonade. I'm just attempting to look deep and intriguing by writing furiously on a sheet of college ruled notebook paper in the black folder I carry in my backback, which is sitting on the chair across from me, showing how my mind is so taken by my work I can't allow for the distraction of another person at my own table. I won't forget to occasionally check my phone between glances at the girl who invited me to visit her work in the first place.
Life smiles at you in the oddest ways. Sometimes it's just having a laugh at your expense. Other times its smiling because it knows what's going to happen next. Either way I suggest smiling back. It makes you look less lost.
Back to reading the news. Page A2 is more intriguing than an attractive person across the table. She read something that surprised her and shared it with him. The conversation was brief and they are back in their papers to consume the news.
How much past do humans share? Is it more than our future?
I don't think I've ever been in a relationship long enough to just read together. If we're in the same room I feel the need to share. Something. When learning to drive, my dad told me "when you're driving on the road, you're driving on the road. You're not at the party you're driving to, you're not with your friends last night, your mind must be where you're at-driving on the road." When I'm alone I often drift to other lands, but when I'm with someone I care about, it's difficult for me to escape mentally somewhere else for long. I still do it, but the gravitational pull of the other always brings me back. Maybe that kind of long-term relationship perspective is not one I want.
Time for the bill. Papers down, heads up. Chatter. He drops his card and heads outside to smoke. He stands on the other side of the window right next to the table. He fake punches at her outside the glass dividing them and walks away to light his cigarette.
She is in her phone. He stares at the front page of the Wall Street Journal dispenser outside, heads back to the window to glance at the LA Weekly sitting on my side of the glass. He'd grab it if he could. He reads the sandwich board outside and paces about, finishing his cigarette. I'm sure in his pacing he read the bus bench ad for a realty company. He sees that my friend finished charging his card and returned it to his table. He comes in, signs the bill and asks the woman "ready?" without sitting down. As she stands up she asks "grab the paper?" which he does, and they walk out the door.
Left behind are used cups, the signed check, a stack of ads from the paper and me. Still alone at my table with my words and lined paper. Furiously writing down the story of the people I watched as I drank my Basil raspberry lemonade.
I pay my friend, smile and leave to walk down the road back to my apartment.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Focus (and lack thereof)
I'm in the process of meeting potential new roommates, but that's not really the topic I want to speak on right now. It's more about focus.
One guy I spoke with tonight, I was under the impression that he was an actor as that's what he studied and what I was told he did. He is currently assisting a manager, interviewing to assist a producer and basically working in all areas of the film industry. He's been on about one commercial audition a month and when he said he assumes his agent will drop him he seemed unconcerned. When I asked about his acting goals he said that he could go either way, as in if one of the other pathways opened up he'd go that way instead.
This hit me. Where I am caught is that I've devoted nearly half of my life to acting and I can't imagine myself doing anything else. I've PA'd on sets and I write/direct/edit but only to facilitate my acting. I am an actor and I would like the world to see me as such (though there's a-whole-nother story there*) and I can't imagine entertaining other ideas when I know what I am.
This made me realize the reason so many people in the entertainment industry used to be actors. They never really wanted to be actors in the first place. They wanted to be a part of the entertainment industry and thought acting was the easiest way in. In all honesty for some it was, but only the super gorgeous can get away with that. Acting is rough and you have to be super dedicated to it. You have to face rejection daily and smile about it. Some people only see the huge paychecks for a few days of work and notoriety, but neglect to notice the months and years of not working, networking and not getting paid that are required to add value to your name in the first place. That's the same problem with grocery stores. We see all the fruits and vegetables and we expect them to be there and we don't see the thousands of hours of work and effort and lives that go into creating that food and bringing it to the store. We just see the finished project, fruit and film alike [in more ways than one?].
When I hear someone talk about acting as an "if" I know they are not serious about it. I don't even think "if" when it comes to acting for me. I view it as a certainty. Maybe an eventuality, but always a definite. As long as I am persistent, it will happen. The industry has no choice but to eventually accept me, because I'm here and I'm not going elsewhere. I'm setting up my tent on Hollywood's front lawn ** and not budging until I'm invited in. It's not quite war, but it's not quite not war either. It's just the industry. I've seen people with money and connections jump the queue and they will continue to do so. That's what money and connections do. I may not have money *** and I am working on connections, just being me - Vinnie - a nice guy with talent and drive.
I just had a mild revelation tonight that not every actor is an actor at heart. Picasso had drive, Van Gogh needed to get his images in paint, other artists...well we aren't saying their names now. They just didn't want it that much. Maybe that's it. I need it. I can't fully live without acting. Now that's much more vulnerable of a position than I want to be in. That's how it goes, I guess. I'm in a kind of freefall, trusting the ground will greet me with a smile and not a splat, but I'd rather be living toward my dreams than dying from their stagnation.
I should end on a positive note. Well...maybe some of the appendices below will do the trick.****
*I met a producer friend of mine yesterday who's been helping me out and she said there was a project I might be good for that some other people I know are putting together. I was excited and I'm always up for acting, then she said she immediately thought I would be great doing 2nd2nd AD work on that project. i.e. not acting. That made my heart sink for a moment that her first thought of me was not as an actor. Actually, it pissed me the fuc& off since I've told her I'm an actor first, everything else second. I've told her several times. She'll learn.
**If you're not aware I once literally set up a tent on WETA Workshop's front lawn in New Zealand with the goal of getting a job. I've apparently always been tenacious.
***I'm actually in debt, but since I graduated from a 4 year private liberal arts university with only $10,000 of debt, I'm counting these first years in Hollywood as my real education and it's costing me less than a doctorate and getting me farther ahead in the process.
****In all honesty I am very blessed to be able to follow my passion and I'm glad I can share some of these moments with people I care about. The days where I question my sanity right next to the ones where I know I'm truly and completely alive and loved.
One guy I spoke with tonight, I was under the impression that he was an actor as that's what he studied and what I was told he did. He is currently assisting a manager, interviewing to assist a producer and basically working in all areas of the film industry. He's been on about one commercial audition a month and when he said he assumes his agent will drop him he seemed unconcerned. When I asked about his acting goals he said that he could go either way, as in if one of the other pathways opened up he'd go that way instead.
This hit me. Where I am caught is that I've devoted nearly half of my life to acting and I can't imagine myself doing anything else. I've PA'd on sets and I write/direct/edit but only to facilitate my acting. I am an actor and I would like the world to see me as such (though there's a-whole-nother story there*) and I can't imagine entertaining other ideas when I know what I am.
This made me realize the reason so many people in the entertainment industry used to be actors. They never really wanted to be actors in the first place. They wanted to be a part of the entertainment industry and thought acting was the easiest way in. In all honesty for some it was, but only the super gorgeous can get away with that. Acting is rough and you have to be super dedicated to it. You have to face rejection daily and smile about it. Some people only see the huge paychecks for a few days of work and notoriety, but neglect to notice the months and years of not working, networking and not getting paid that are required to add value to your name in the first place. That's the same problem with grocery stores. We see all the fruits and vegetables and we expect them to be there and we don't see the thousands of hours of work and effort and lives that go into creating that food and bringing it to the store. We just see the finished project, fruit and film alike [in more ways than one?].
When I hear someone talk about acting as an "if" I know they are not serious about it. I don't even think "if" when it comes to acting for me. I view it as a certainty. Maybe an eventuality, but always a definite. As long as I am persistent, it will happen. The industry has no choice but to eventually accept me, because I'm here and I'm not going elsewhere. I'm setting up my tent on Hollywood's front lawn ** and not budging until I'm invited in. It's not quite war, but it's not quite not war either. It's just the industry. I've seen people with money and connections jump the queue and they will continue to do so. That's what money and connections do. I may not have money *** and I am working on connections, just being me - Vinnie - a nice guy with talent and drive.
I just had a mild revelation tonight that not every actor is an actor at heart. Picasso had drive, Van Gogh needed to get his images in paint, other artists...well we aren't saying their names now. They just didn't want it that much. Maybe that's it. I need it. I can't fully live without acting. Now that's much more vulnerable of a position than I want to be in. That's how it goes, I guess. I'm in a kind of freefall, trusting the ground will greet me with a smile and not a splat, but I'd rather be living toward my dreams than dying from their stagnation.
I should end on a positive note. Well...maybe some of the appendices below will do the trick.****
*I met a producer friend of mine yesterday who's been helping me out and she said there was a project I might be good for that some other people I know are putting together. I was excited and I'm always up for acting, then she said she immediately thought I would be great doing 2nd2nd AD work on that project. i.e. not acting. That made my heart sink for a moment that her first thought of me was not as an actor. Actually, it pissed me the fuc& off since I've told her I'm an actor first, everything else second. I've told her several times. She'll learn.
**If you're not aware I once literally set up a tent on WETA Workshop's front lawn in New Zealand with the goal of getting a job. I've apparently always been tenacious.
***I'm actually in debt, but since I graduated from a 4 year private liberal arts university with only $10,000 of debt, I'm counting these first years in Hollywood as my real education and it's costing me less than a doctorate and getting me farther ahead in the process.
****In all honesty I am very blessed to be able to follow my passion and I'm glad I can share some of these moments with people I care about. The days where I question my sanity right next to the ones where I know I'm truly and completely alive and loved.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Tingly feeling
I'm riding a little wave right now.
I just got back from a second callback for a feature film, and they had me read with four women (as my wife in the film), which makes me think they've already cast me and were figuring out who I'll be married to. (Now that's an interesting form of arranged marriage). I only say it makes me think that because they had me stay in the room and brought each woman in one at a time and the director was giving me thumbs up between each one. I figure that's a good sign.
The reason I'm talking about this (besides sharing a very positive moment in my path with people I care about-blog readers) is because sometime right before the first one as I was sitting in the room I started to get a tingling sensation in my spine that kind of spread in gentle waves to my head and around me. I get this feeling sometimes when I'm acting, and I know it means I'm acting well and instead of focusing on it, which would distract of my work, or ignoring it which would also distract and weaken my work, I just experience it and rode the wave of that tingling through the scene. I'm still feeling it now and I felt it in the first audition and first callback for this film as well. I've felt it in the past at other odd times too. The most regular was when I used to get my haircut. I cut my own hair now so I don't get that feeling from it anymore, but I always used to get my haircut by Rudy (the racist) barber [he's not that racist, I just like the sound of Rudy the Racist Barber]. I'd wait in line in the shop, because it was always busy with regulars and listen to them talk about sports and hunting and look around at all the mounted animals on the walls and the huge fish tank. I might even start to feel a bit of a tingle when I knew he was finishing up the guy in front of me, and every time I sat down in that chair and I heard the buzz of the clippers in his hand as it neared my head, I felt that same tingly sensation. The only thing I can think that it might be is the exchange of energies between certain humans. Like we were somehow sharing a palpable experience and I was tuned to that particular interchange of energy, of human interaction. I dunno. Whatever it is I like it and I'm a bit addicted to it. Not sure I want to dwell on it longer in blog form, but it's a fascinating feeling and I hope every has it at some point. Though right before the audition I had also gone to confession so maybe it was a reflection of another higher connection. Who knows. Either way I felt it, I still feel it and I like it.
I've had a super busy week as well. Oh yeah- I now have commercial representation! That's a big bonus for me, having someone else out there trying to get me work. Though I've been doing a pretty okay job of it on my own, this may seriously help me pay my bills assuming I keep doing my part of it. Though I don't want to jump ahead to any conclusions as I did in my callback today. I've been kicking up all my efforts to a higher level this year and it's really been smiling on me. I know I haven't written in a long time, and one of my last posts was very negative. That happens. It doesn't mean life's been poor or I've been hiding, I've actually been doing well. I'd love to talk and share more right now, all my meetings and other auditions and whatnot, but I also need food and...you know what? I'm planning on celebrating my week by playing a few hours of Halo4. So yeah, I work hard, I play hard.
I just got back from a second callback for a feature film, and they had me read with four women (as my wife in the film), which makes me think they've already cast me and were figuring out who I'll be married to. (Now that's an interesting form of arranged marriage). I only say it makes me think that because they had me stay in the room and brought each woman in one at a time and the director was giving me thumbs up between each one. I figure that's a good sign.
The reason I'm talking about this (besides sharing a very positive moment in my path with people I care about-blog readers) is because sometime right before the first one as I was sitting in the room I started to get a tingling sensation in my spine that kind of spread in gentle waves to my head and around me. I get this feeling sometimes when I'm acting, and I know it means I'm acting well and instead of focusing on it, which would distract of my work, or ignoring it which would also distract and weaken my work, I just experience it and rode the wave of that tingling through the scene. I'm still feeling it now and I felt it in the first audition and first callback for this film as well. I've felt it in the past at other odd times too. The most regular was when I used to get my haircut. I cut my own hair now so I don't get that feeling from it anymore, but I always used to get my haircut by Rudy (the racist) barber [he's not that racist, I just like the sound of Rudy the Racist Barber]. I'd wait in line in the shop, because it was always busy with regulars and listen to them talk about sports and hunting and look around at all the mounted animals on the walls and the huge fish tank. I might even start to feel a bit of a tingle when I knew he was finishing up the guy in front of me, and every time I sat down in that chair and I heard the buzz of the clippers in his hand as it neared my head, I felt that same tingly sensation. The only thing I can think that it might be is the exchange of energies between certain humans. Like we were somehow sharing a palpable experience and I was tuned to that particular interchange of energy, of human interaction. I dunno. Whatever it is I like it and I'm a bit addicted to it. Not sure I want to dwell on it longer in blog form, but it's a fascinating feeling and I hope every has it at some point. Though right before the audition I had also gone to confession so maybe it was a reflection of another higher connection. Who knows. Either way I felt it, I still feel it and I like it.
I've had a super busy week as well. Oh yeah- I now have commercial representation! That's a big bonus for me, having someone else out there trying to get me work. Though I've been doing a pretty okay job of it on my own, this may seriously help me pay my bills assuming I keep doing my part of it. Though I don't want to jump ahead to any conclusions as I did in my callback today. I've been kicking up all my efforts to a higher level this year and it's really been smiling on me. I know I haven't written in a long time, and one of my last posts was very negative. That happens. It doesn't mean life's been poor or I've been hiding, I've actually been doing well. I'd love to talk and share more right now, all my meetings and other auditions and whatnot, but I also need food and...you know what? I'm planning on celebrating my week by playing a few hours of Halo4. So yeah, I work hard, I play hard.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Busy
Times like this don't always come along, so I thought I should share the goodness in my life right now. I'm super busy, which translates to me being happy. Literally 30 seconds ago I checked my email to find two new scripts for projects I'm cast in without having to audition for because I've worked with the people on other projects and they liked me. In fact, over the next two weeks I'll be shooting four separate short films. They're all student films, and they'll help me fill out my reel and also make the right kind of working relationships I need to be building right now. Earlier this afternoon I got a call from an indie feature film I auditioned for. Well, it's for the sizzle reel (short collection of scenes from the film to convince investors everyone knows what they're doing and it's a good investment), and they want me for a good role that's fun to play and pops up through the whole film. However, I'm not sure I'll be able to do it because I'm be flying out to Florida in two weeks to work on another film. That's right, I was offered a role but had to say I wasn't sure I could do it since I was already booked on another film.
It's 1:30 am and I just started a pot roast I'm so looking forward to enjoying at lunch tomorrow. The reason I started it so late is because I didn't get home until after 12:30 from my other semi-acting job. It's a haunted house, but it's a unique kind of experience and everyone working it are professional actors. It's called Blackout, I'd attach a link to here or something if I weren't so tired. So yeah, super busy, super happy. Thanks for sharing in my journey.
It's 1:30 am and I just started a pot roast I'm so looking forward to enjoying at lunch tomorrow. The reason I started it so late is because I didn't get home until after 12:30 from my other semi-acting job. It's a haunted house, but it's a unique kind of experience and everyone working it are professional actors. It's called Blackout, I'd attach a link to here or something if I weren't so tired. So yeah, super busy, super happy. Thanks for sharing in my journey.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Tonight I accosted Neil Patrick Harris
Well, he signed up for it and signed a waiver saying it's okay, so I guess it was not accosting in the legal sense.
I got a job at a...well...we'll call it a haunted house, but there's no ghosts or anything. It's called Blackout, they've been doing it in NY for 4 years and this is their first time in LA. It's a small cast, and it is more of a cast than a crew because there's no monster make-up or any of the normal haunted house things, just creepy situations. In fact, it's kind of an anti-haunted house. You have to be over 18 to enter and you have to go through it alone. Also, you have to do everything you are told and you will be touched by the performers. In short, it's an intense experience. There is nudity involved (not me) and all sorts of freaky things. To give you a hint, my room is a narrow space that only has you, me and a staple gun in it.
Since I'm not in the right mood to explain this better, I'll just say that NPH went through the house tonight, we stared deeply into each others eyes, he stapled me then I stapled him. I also felt his chest- he's got super muscles, btw! Anyway, that was the highlight of the show for me so far...well...I'll call it the highlight because I also have people who leave my room in tears...I'm extra creepy and people buy into the whole experience because...well...there's some real things that go on in there...and some really creepy things too.
If you're in LA, try getting tickets. I know it's sold out but they might extend the run. And remember the safe word so you can call it if it's too intense for you. I know I would not go through it as a patron, it's rough enough being in it.
I have to also say that though there are a lot of screwed up situations within the show, the cast is made up of some great people...if not mildly disturbed, but I would have to be included in that number.
I got a job at a...well...we'll call it a haunted house, but there's no ghosts or anything. It's called Blackout, they've been doing it in NY for 4 years and this is their first time in LA. It's a small cast, and it is more of a cast than a crew because there's no monster make-up or any of the normal haunted house things, just creepy situations. In fact, it's kind of an anti-haunted house. You have to be over 18 to enter and you have to go through it alone. Also, you have to do everything you are told and you will be touched by the performers. In short, it's an intense experience. There is nudity involved (not me) and all sorts of freaky things. To give you a hint, my room is a narrow space that only has you, me and a staple gun in it.
Since I'm not in the right mood to explain this better, I'll just say that NPH went through the house tonight, we stared deeply into each others eyes, he stapled me then I stapled him. I also felt his chest- he's got super muscles, btw! Anyway, that was the highlight of the show for me so far...well...I'll call it the highlight because I also have people who leave my room in tears...I'm extra creepy and people buy into the whole experience because...well...there's some real things that go on in there...and some really creepy things too.
If you're in LA, try getting tickets. I know it's sold out but they might extend the run. And remember the safe word so you can call it if it's too intense for you. I know I would not go through it as a patron, it's rough enough being in it.
I have to also say that though there are a lot of screwed up situations within the show, the cast is made up of some great people...if not mildly disturbed, but I would have to be included in that number.
In the words of NPH via twitter:@ActuallyNPH Dudes! Just went through Blackout in LA. You must go through it alone! Terrifying, intense, a little horny. I loved it. @NYCHauntedHouse
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Quick rundown of recent life events
So I suck at updating on this thing apparently. It's been a really great last few weeks, I'll just drop the highlights and save the stories for later, I guess.
I've been auditioning like crazy, doing a few student films, I shot a promo for AMC's Fearfest, so you can see me on AMC this month.
Last week I was an extra on the best show ever made-Arrested Development! I don't want to give any spoilers, but I'll say I was part of one of Gob's illusions...at a wedding. I also had a great little chat with Alan Tudyk, an amazing actor who's not really recognized for how great he is both as an actor and a human.
I just got cast in the epic haunted house experience Blackout, which has been running in NYC for about 7 or so years and LA for 4 years, still not sure what I'm doing and it scares the crap out of me, which is probably exactly why I'm doing it.
Keeping up with improv, in 401 at UCB, doing some shows at indie venues, generally being kick-ass at life.
Did I already mention the auditioning? Yeah, doing a bunch of that. This last weekend I had a shoot scheduled then got offered another shoot I had to turn down then got offered a role in a third shoot also on the same day for something I didn't audition for but the guy was calling me based on another project I auditioned for him. So yeah, feeling pretty good about myself...now if I could just make some money doing any of this...
I've been auditioning like crazy, doing a few student films, I shot a promo for AMC's Fearfest, so you can see me on AMC this month.
Last week I was an extra on the best show ever made-Arrested Development! I don't want to give any spoilers, but I'll say I was part of one of Gob's illusions...at a wedding. I also had a great little chat with Alan Tudyk, an amazing actor who's not really recognized for how great he is both as an actor and a human.
I just got cast in the epic haunted house experience Blackout, which has been running in NYC for about 7 or so years and LA for 4 years, still not sure what I'm doing and it scares the crap out of me, which is probably exactly why I'm doing it.
Keeping up with improv, in 401 at UCB, doing some shows at indie venues, generally being kick-ass at life.
Did I already mention the auditioning? Yeah, doing a bunch of that. This last weekend I had a shoot scheduled then got offered another shoot I had to turn down then got offered a role in a third shoot also on the same day for something I didn't audition for but the guy was calling me based on another project I auditioned for him. So yeah, feeling pretty good about myself...now if I could just make some money doing any of this...
Friday, July 13, 2012
That depressing blog where I realize I'm turning into white trash
I'm doing nothing at the moment to feel like I'm successfully being a human. I have drafts of two different scripts I need to go over and rewrite...several times. Though every time I sit down to do that I immediately succumb to weariness and take a nap. Serious. Every time I sit down with either of them, bam!-nap time. I have a hard time sleeping at night. I think it's due to the heat. I am not made for heat and my body refuses to successfully rest in any capacity at night when it gets even a glimpse of the notion it's in nature's oven. That might explain part of the day naps-my lack of night sleeps.
Beyond heat I keep putting things in my body it doesn't like. Namely: food. I'm beyond broke, so I buy all my "food" at the cheapest places around town, and though I love hamburger and sausage, I'm used to eating hamburger from cows I helped raise and butcher and sausage my family made. Now I'm eating the cheap hamburgers where if you microwave them, the parts that should not be in meat get all hard and chewey. And the sausages I'm eating...I really don't know what percentage of them are a meat-like product, but I regularly get bits of bone and cartilage when I bite into them. So yeah, I'm not helping myself there. I feel disgusting inside.
I'm not really working at any sort of job, partly because of my random travel schedule where I'm in and out of LA every couple of weeks for the next 2 months, so since I'm not really working and have all this time to work on my scripts...of course I'm watching movies and TV and eating the cheap ice-cream and drinking pop, which is something I never really did regularly until now-when I feel like a useless human.
Then the guilt. I know that all it would take to make me feel good about myself is to make a schedule and STICK TO IT! I've made a dozen different game plans over the last dozen or so weeks. Not a one of them made it past Wednesday. It turns out that when I'm solely responsible for myself...I am not responsible at all. Classes were nice, I'd like to sign up for a sketch class so I would have a weekly deadline I'd hold myself accountable to. I know I would too, but since I don't have that group of people...movies and TV-and no good sleep at night. And so many noises from my neighbors in the next building! Windows 3 yards away from mine, directly facing me, funneling every noise directly into my brain. Grating.
I didn't mean to bitch, I just meant to say that I know I'm not doing myself any favors by submitting myself to the downward spiral. Hopefully I'm not on it for the full ride, but if I am, then at least there's an account of how one almost normal person can become a self-loathing pile of shame.
How's your day?
Beyond heat I keep putting things in my body it doesn't like. Namely: food. I'm beyond broke, so I buy all my "food" at the cheapest places around town, and though I love hamburger and sausage, I'm used to eating hamburger from cows I helped raise and butcher and sausage my family made. Now I'm eating the cheap hamburgers where if you microwave them, the parts that should not be in meat get all hard and chewey. And the sausages I'm eating...I really don't know what percentage of them are a meat-like product, but I regularly get bits of bone and cartilage when I bite into them. So yeah, I'm not helping myself there. I feel disgusting inside.
I'm not really working at any sort of job, partly because of my random travel schedule where I'm in and out of LA every couple of weeks for the next 2 months, so since I'm not really working and have all this time to work on my scripts...of course I'm watching movies and TV and eating the cheap ice-cream and drinking pop, which is something I never really did regularly until now-when I feel like a useless human.
Then the guilt. I know that all it would take to make me feel good about myself is to make a schedule and STICK TO IT! I've made a dozen different game plans over the last dozen or so weeks. Not a one of them made it past Wednesday. It turns out that when I'm solely responsible for myself...I am not responsible at all. Classes were nice, I'd like to sign up for a sketch class so I would have a weekly deadline I'd hold myself accountable to. I know I would too, but since I don't have that group of people...movies and TV-and no good sleep at night. And so many noises from my neighbors in the next building! Windows 3 yards away from mine, directly facing me, funneling every noise directly into my brain. Grating.
I didn't mean to bitch, I just meant to say that I know I'm not doing myself any favors by submitting myself to the downward spiral. Hopefully I'm not on it for the full ride, but if I am, then at least there's an account of how one almost normal person can become a self-loathing pile of shame.
How's your day?
Monday, July 2, 2012
City Limits
I've reached my limit for this city. It's so damn noisy everywhere. Someone just moved into the apartment building outside my window with a baby and a dog. That and it's summer and too hot for me. I can't sleep when hot (though I do have a mini ghetto booty that makes me hot, I think you know what I'm talking about). And the stupid people! So many of them! Everywhere! I'm becoming one of them!
I was getting so frustrated at the weather, the noise my computer (which just turned mentally retarded) and everything. I was so happy I'll be heading home to Oregon in two weeks time for a friend's wedding. I also realized that I have a friend coming into town tomorrow. That fact has been slipping in and out of my mind the last couple of weeks. Not sure how much fun I'll make the city seem for her, but perhaps a taste of Oregon will help me keep from killing everyone around me for a couple more weeks. We'll see.
All I know is that my body is still set up solidly for Oregon: its reasonable temperatures (I am sunburned as I type this), and its ability to shut up and let me think once in a while. I'm sure I miss more than those two things, but right now it's pretty darn hard to think bigger than peace, quiet and not sweating in my bed.
So yeah, I'm a big ball of sunshine right now. LA: you broke me...now I break you.
I was getting so frustrated at the weather, the noise my computer (which just turned mentally retarded) and everything. I was so happy I'll be heading home to Oregon in two weeks time for a friend's wedding. I also realized that I have a friend coming into town tomorrow. That fact has been slipping in and out of my mind the last couple of weeks. Not sure how much fun I'll make the city seem for her, but perhaps a taste of Oregon will help me keep from killing everyone around me for a couple more weeks. We'll see.
All I know is that my body is still set up solidly for Oregon: its reasonable temperatures (I am sunburned as I type this), and its ability to shut up and let me think once in a while. I'm sure I miss more than those two things, but right now it's pretty darn hard to think bigger than peace, quiet and not sweating in my bed.
So yeah, I'm a big ball of sunshine right now. LA: you broke me...now I break you.
Monday, June 18, 2012
I'll Keep my Eyes Open
When I was about 6, or maybe it was 8 or 10-remembering things from that long ago is not an exact science-I recall a moment I know I will always be chasing, and may never find again.
I was in the backseat of the car, the brown bomber as we called it. It was brown and old, fairly straightforward name. I was shopping with my mom, or rather in the car leaving the parking space, groceries in the back with me. We pulled out of the lot and drove down the road toward home. This was a farther location because we had to get on the highway for a few miles. While cruising along I looked out the window and saw someone looking back at me from another car. A young girl, about my age. We locked eyes and in that moment saw into each other. I had an odd feeling and in my tiny, developing brain some synapses fired and I had the sudden realization "This is the girl I'm going to marry."
Just as suddenly as we connected, our cars separated, hers going off the ramp. I remember us both sitting up in our seats, keeping eye contact for as long as we could; Then it was over. My mom drove us home, we unloaded the car and I played with my Legos, creating worlds to play in.
I still think about that moment. That person. I've been single for a long time and not unhappily so. I wonder how much of me, in every relationship I've been in and will be in, will continue to wonder about that impossible girl. How many times have I seen her, walked past her or barely missed her? Or why my young brain took me in that moment from her eyes to forever and back.
All I can say for sure is that it happened and somewhere out there she exists. Whether she remembers it consciously or subconsciously and if she's married or not and searching. I can only live my life as it comes and remain open to the possibility that once again the old dusty wiring in my brain might make a connection and fire out a second message to when it recognizes who or what I saw over 20 years ago. Until then, I'll just keep my eyes open.
I was in the backseat of the car, the brown bomber as we called it. It was brown and old, fairly straightforward name. I was shopping with my mom, or rather in the car leaving the parking space, groceries in the back with me. We pulled out of the lot and drove down the road toward home. This was a farther location because we had to get on the highway for a few miles. While cruising along I looked out the window and saw someone looking back at me from another car. A young girl, about my age. We locked eyes and in that moment saw into each other. I had an odd feeling and in my tiny, developing brain some synapses fired and I had the sudden realization "This is the girl I'm going to marry."
Just as suddenly as we connected, our cars separated, hers going off the ramp. I remember us both sitting up in our seats, keeping eye contact for as long as we could; Then it was over. My mom drove us home, we unloaded the car and I played with my Legos, creating worlds to play in.
I still think about that moment. That person. I've been single for a long time and not unhappily so. I wonder how much of me, in every relationship I've been in and will be in, will continue to wonder about that impossible girl. How many times have I seen her, walked past her or barely missed her? Or why my young brain took me in that moment from her eyes to forever and back.
All I can say for sure is that it happened and somewhere out there she exists. Whether she remembers it consciously or subconsciously and if she's married or not and searching. I can only live my life as it comes and remain open to the possibility that once again the old dusty wiring in my brain might make a connection and fire out a second message to when it recognizes who or what I saw over 20 years ago. Until then, I'll just keep my eyes open.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Getting a job, missing a show and buying a shirt
Oh my crapping gosh, why do I always dive right into the deep end? When will I learn I hate getting my head wet after I'm already in freefall?
Today I went from unemployed to possibly over-busy, at least for tomorrow.
I emailed a guy, from reference of a friend from one of my acting classes, about a job as catering waitstaff. It should be interesting. Man, I wish I had the energy to keep telling the story of my day. I'll just have to shut up and power through.
Basically, I'm not working for a company, I'm a private contractor (professional waiter, apparently), and this guy pimps me out to whoever needs help. He first signed me up for a thing tomorrow night at a prestigious guild here in Hollywood (let's say it involves people who direct things), just clearing drinks and stuff at a poker tournament at the Guild HQ. Then I'm told my black shirt isn't black enough, it has subtle lines and I need a complete black shirt without even a hint of a pattern. So I went to 3 different Ross stores, 2 Targets, a used clothing place and K-Mart to no avail before I broke down and went to Nordstroms at The Grove. There he gave me two options of black shirt, sans pattern, one for $90 and the other for $95. NRRTS! He got the $90 one for me in my size and I cried a little, then asked if there was anything else. He said he had a single shirt in the back from another style and would check. Turns out it was a solid black shirt, no subtle lines, it was in my neck size, sleeve size and also a slim fit, so now I own a $60 black shirt I'll be wearing while I buss tables.
I was also supposed to see a friend's show at IOWest at 11:30...the idea of getting up at 4:30am after seeing an 11:30pm show is not the best, but I wanted to support so I went out (I decided to drive so I would be in bed sooner after the show), and on the way there were tons of police cars and motorcycles and they shut down traffic, so I was sitting at Hollywood/Vine and watched a sea of bicyclists shoot past in the other lane. Some sort of fancy bicycle parade on Hollywood Blvd at 11pm on a Friday night. This is where I live now...not too different from Portland, just with more people who honk their horns. After circling the block of the theatre and seeing a tow truck hauling a car whose alarm would not stop, being generally overwhelmed by the amount of people surrounding me and realizing I need some sleep if I'm supposed to look impeccable and serve rich people things tomorrow. That and I bought an iron...I think I mentioned that. Now I kind of wish I also had an ironing board...but the carpet isn't THAT bad.
In the morning I wear a white shirt and black bow tie, oh, and I'm also supposed to have a small wine opener with me...which I don't have, so we'll see how that goes. In the afternoon/evening I'm in all black with my new full length bistro apron. I can't complain...yet, anyway. I haven't lived tomorrow yet (though it's minutes away from starting). Let's see how I do
Today I went from unemployed to possibly over-busy, at least for tomorrow.
I emailed a guy, from reference of a friend from one of my acting classes, about a job as catering waitstaff. It should be interesting. Man, I wish I had the energy to keep telling the story of my day. I'll just have to shut up and power through.
Basically, I'm not working for a company, I'm a private contractor (professional waiter, apparently), and this guy pimps me out to whoever needs help. He first signed me up for a thing tomorrow night at a prestigious guild here in Hollywood (let's say it involves people who direct things), just clearing drinks and stuff at a poker tournament at the Guild HQ. Then I'm told my black shirt isn't black enough, it has subtle lines and I need a complete black shirt without even a hint of a pattern. So I went to 3 different Ross stores, 2 Targets, a used clothing place and K-Mart to no avail before I broke down and went to Nordstroms at The Grove. There he gave me two options of black shirt, sans pattern, one for $90 and the other for $95. NRRTS! He got the $90 one for me in my size and I cried a little, then asked if there was anything else. He said he had a single shirt in the back from another style and would check. Turns out it was a solid black shirt, no subtle lines, it was in my neck size, sleeve size and also a slim fit, so now I own a $60 black shirt I'll be wearing while I buss tables.
I was also supposed to see a friend's show at IOWest at 11:30...the idea of getting up at 4:30am after seeing an 11:30pm show is not the best, but I wanted to support so I went out (I decided to drive so I would be in bed sooner after the show), and on the way there were tons of police cars and motorcycles and they shut down traffic, so I was sitting at Hollywood/Vine and watched a sea of bicyclists shoot past in the other lane. Some sort of fancy bicycle parade on Hollywood Blvd at 11pm on a Friday night. This is where I live now...not too different from Portland, just with more people who honk their horns. After circling the block of the theatre and seeing a tow truck hauling a car whose alarm would not stop, being generally overwhelmed by the amount of people surrounding me and realizing I need some sleep if I'm supposed to look impeccable and serve rich people things tomorrow. That and I bought an iron...I think I mentioned that. Now I kind of wish I also had an ironing board...but the carpet isn't THAT bad.
In the morning I wear a white shirt and black bow tie, oh, and I'm also supposed to have a small wine opener with me...which I don't have, so we'll see how that goes. In the afternoon/evening I'm in all black with my new full length bistro apron. I can't complain...yet, anyway. I haven't lived tomorrow yet (though it's minutes away from starting). Let's see how I do
Monday, April 23, 2012
Trading Cows for Magic Beans
I guess this is something about myself I haven't really told many people, but I paid for my college education with cows.
When I was young I bought a cow from my dad for a dollar. I'm not afraid to say that it was quite the bargain. It's hard to say no to a cute little red haired kid in Osh-Kosh's. I kind of wish I carried a little more of that salesmanship into my adulthood, but I'm not really in the mood to wear Osh-Kosh's in LA, so I can't be too grim on that front.
That calf I bought grew up and had calves and they grew up and had calves and sometimes the cows and calves were brought to auction. Some calves because they were white-faced, which means something to dairymen, but not to Vinniemen. Sometimes the cows were pulled out of rotation and would become someone's hamburger. All this time my dad had a ledger and kept track of all these cattle. This one sold is his, that one sold was mine, etc.
Through my high-school career I think my family figured I'd be going to college...I like to think it was for more reasons other than the fact I wore glasses since kindergarten and had head-gear in high-school (luckily only at bedtime, but that experience is something you carry with you all day). When my dad got money from selling the cows (plus a healthy bonus from all the milk production), he and I went to our local Washington Mutual branch and opened up savings CDs, back when they actually gave a good percentage. By the time I neared the end of high school, since I was the youngest of my siblings and none of us had an interest in taking over the farm, my dad retired and sold off the rest of the herd. My share finished off my circulation of CDs, having them come due every few months.
My plan in high school was originally to attend community college to save money, then finish off at some other college, since surely they would all offer the same stuff. My counselor shook his head when I told him this and said "nope, you're going to college." I laughed...then I started applying to colleges. I stuck to Oregon schools, since I would stay in-state I would save money (I'm definitely Dutch when it comes to monetary things if it's not clear yet). When I felt done applying I got something in the mail from Pacific University, which the only thing I knew about was that it was 7 miles away from my home. Moreover, it had an application that said "application fee waived." I thought "free application? Yes!" and I filled it out.
Skipping some time and all my letters of acceptance and waiting on scholarships, Pacific, the private liberal arts university became my cheapest option, and it was close to my family so I could still live at home (to save money) and attend college. I believe I am the only one of my siblings to have earned a four year degree.
I ended up moving into the dorms half-way through my first semester because I just felt like an outsider and I knew if I wanted to thrive there I had to live there, so there went my plan to save money, until I became a Resident Assistant my sophomore and junior years and got free room and board, then I became the Undergraduate Community Counsel President my senior year which I got paid for as well, so I think that decision to bite the bullet and pay more to be where I knew I needed to be paid for itself (let's hope my current position in LA falls in this line).
Through these four and a half years (yep, I did an encore semester), thanks to my dad's foresight and me buying a little calf when I was young (which I helped deliver, by the way), the CD's came due roughly the same time as payments were due, and in roughly the right amounts, so I ended up paying for college with money I got from selling cows. My college education was not really a couple of magic beans...but for this farmboy who's living in Hollywood...I know I traded the cows wisely.
When I was young I bought a cow from my dad for a dollar. I'm not afraid to say that it was quite the bargain. It's hard to say no to a cute little red haired kid in Osh-Kosh's. I kind of wish I carried a little more of that salesmanship into my adulthood, but I'm not really in the mood to wear Osh-Kosh's in LA, so I can't be too grim on that front.
That calf I bought grew up and had calves and they grew up and had calves and sometimes the cows and calves were brought to auction. Some calves because they were white-faced, which means something to dairymen, but not to Vinniemen. Sometimes the cows were pulled out of rotation and would become someone's hamburger. All this time my dad had a ledger and kept track of all these cattle. This one sold is his, that one sold was mine, etc.
Through my high-school career I think my family figured I'd be going to college...I like to think it was for more reasons other than the fact I wore glasses since kindergarten and had head-gear in high-school (luckily only at bedtime, but that experience is something you carry with you all day). When my dad got money from selling the cows (plus a healthy bonus from all the milk production), he and I went to our local Washington Mutual branch and opened up savings CDs, back when they actually gave a good percentage. By the time I neared the end of high school, since I was the youngest of my siblings and none of us had an interest in taking over the farm, my dad retired and sold off the rest of the herd. My share finished off my circulation of CDs, having them come due every few months.
My plan in high school was originally to attend community college to save money, then finish off at some other college, since surely they would all offer the same stuff. My counselor shook his head when I told him this and said "nope, you're going to college." I laughed...then I started applying to colleges. I stuck to Oregon schools, since I would stay in-state I would save money (I'm definitely Dutch when it comes to monetary things if it's not clear yet). When I felt done applying I got something in the mail from Pacific University, which the only thing I knew about was that it was 7 miles away from my home. Moreover, it had an application that said "application fee waived." I thought "free application? Yes!" and I filled it out.
Skipping some time and all my letters of acceptance and waiting on scholarships, Pacific, the private liberal arts university became my cheapest option, and it was close to my family so I could still live at home (to save money) and attend college. I believe I am the only one of my siblings to have earned a four year degree.
I ended up moving into the dorms half-way through my first semester because I just felt like an outsider and I knew if I wanted to thrive there I had to live there, so there went my plan to save money, until I became a Resident Assistant my sophomore and junior years and got free room and board, then I became the Undergraduate Community Counsel President my senior year which I got paid for as well, so I think that decision to bite the bullet and pay more to be where I knew I needed to be paid for itself (let's hope my current position in LA falls in this line).
Through these four and a half years (yep, I did an encore semester), thanks to my dad's foresight and me buying a little calf when I was young (which I helped deliver, by the way), the CD's came due roughly the same time as payments were due, and in roughly the right amounts, so I ended up paying for college with money I got from selling cows. My college education was not really a couple of magic beans...but for this farmboy who's living in Hollywood...I know I traded the cows wisely.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Express yo self
Stress.
Management.
They don't really fit together in the real world as much as some people try and place them together. Both exist in life and only in rare circumstances together.
To put it bluntly I have a lot of crap going on right now. My life is up in the air. I'm less than 3 weeks away from turning 30 and I have no job, no real prospect of a job, a place that's too big/too much for me, taxes I just paid, insurance I have to pay, classes I want/need to take and no income of consequence. I'm living the dream.
In my acting classes I'm realizing that though I am a sensitive person (I've always suspected so...it must have something to do with all that poetry I wrote in the bathtub in High School), I am not an expressive person. I may be animated in life, but I don't really express my emotions. This works great in life, as I have said before, but I'm realizing that when I suppress one emotion, they all get squished down. There's a fantastic Ted talk on this matter I saw today from Brene Brown. Watch it if you haven't yet.
One step I'm taking for myself is to give me permission to express myself. A few minutes ago I got a text from a former improv classmate who said he'll be my new roommate, so that helps the financials quite a bit, and the fact that I avoided the craigslist crazies is enough to celebrate on its own. That's it. I still have big crap to deal with, attorneys and whatnot to speak to, parents to ask a loan from (yep, almost thirty I am). All that aside, there's one victory for me to have. I don't need to do the old Catholic guilt thing where every time something positive happens I stay quiet about it and wait for the bad thing that's following right behind it. I'd rather not celebrate publicly to be immediately humiliated even more publicly. That said, since I know it's going to happen anyway, I might as well enjoy the moment and have those few minutes of happiness than postpone them out of future dread.
I'm not sure what I'll do with my anger as it comes up, as I know it will, but I guess I'll just find out. I'm letting my happy out of the bag and lettinallowing Pandora to remove whatever else she thinks needs some airing out.
Management.
They don't really fit together in the real world as much as some people try and place them together. Both exist in life and only in rare circumstances together.
To put it bluntly I have a lot of crap going on right now. My life is up in the air. I'm less than 3 weeks away from turning 30 and I have no job, no real prospect of a job, a place that's too big/too much for me, taxes I just paid, insurance I have to pay, classes I want/need to take and no income of consequence. I'm living the dream.
In my acting classes I'm realizing that though I am a sensitive person (I've always suspected so...it must have something to do with all that poetry I wrote in the bathtub in High School), I am not an expressive person. I may be animated in life, but I don't really express my emotions. This works great in life, as I have said before, but I'm realizing that when I suppress one emotion, they all get squished down. There's a fantastic Ted talk on this matter I saw today from Brene Brown. Watch it if you haven't yet.
One step I'm taking for myself is to give me permission to express myself. A few minutes ago I got a text from a former improv classmate who said he'll be my new roommate, so that helps the financials quite a bit, and the fact that I avoided the craigslist crazies is enough to celebrate on its own. That's it. I still have big crap to deal with, attorneys and whatnot to speak to, parents to ask a loan from (yep, almost thirty I am). All that aside, there's one victory for me to have. I don't need to do the old Catholic guilt thing where every time something positive happens I stay quiet about it and wait for the bad thing that's following right behind it. I'd rather not celebrate publicly to be immediately humiliated even more publicly. That said, since I know it's going to happen anyway, I might as well enjoy the moment and have those few minutes of happiness than postpone them out of future dread.
I'm not sure what I'll do with my anger as it comes up, as I know it will, but I guess I'll just find out. I'm letting my happy out of the bag and lettinallowing Pandora to remove whatever else she thinks needs some airing out.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Ruminations on Holy Thursday
So much I haven't been writing about, and still more I'm not ready to write about just yet!
I had a great experience in church tonight. I went to the Holy Thursday mass up in Burbank because I got out of an audition late and it was the closest Catholic church. It was a fascinating service. There were a total of four languages spoken. Some of the songs and even the readings were done in Vietnamese and Spanish as well as English. Then of course, because it's Holy Thursday there was a nice helping of Latin.
More than the words spoken were the emotions touched upon. A couple weeks ago one of my acting coaches told me that if I'm ever going to be a good actor and feel more on camera I need to feel more in everyday life. Now there's the biggest little piece of advice I ever got. I have been working more on feeling life in every moment, and whatever emotions flow through me.
The issue I have (and every other human has) is that, though I was super open to my emotions as a child, I built up walls as I grew up. Very functional walls that help me live every day. My sense of humor, my impartiality, all the things that make me me. However, with all of those fully functioning parts of me in play, other parts of me are so protected that they have grown a little stunted. I rarely cry, and when I do it hits me hard. My deep emotions are bottled up within me so that they kind of explode out...though anger is something I don't think I've ever really understood or had a grasp on, and it's something I think less than five people have seen over my nearly thirty years on this earth.
During the mass I felt the impact of what we were reenacting as a group. The washing of the feet, and poor Simon never getting it right but trying so very hard to be perfect. Songs have always been able to seep through my defenses better than most other things, and there was some great music during the mass. What started to hit me was the exit when I remembered this is the time of year, the very day when they remove the host, the trans-substantial body of Christ from the church, leaving it empty. Removing the host from His home. The lights slowly went out as we sang and processed outside of the church and across the street into the parish hall. There was other singing there and we all knelt in vigil alongside Jesus as he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane and asked us to remain with him, his companions and his friends. Unfortunately when he asked his disciples to do this they all fell asleep.
As I knelt there I felt waves of shame and fear and joy and...you know--emotions--flow through me. I know they'll continue through midnight keeping vigil, but I had enough time to go through my own little journey.
I'm not sure if it's because I'm away from home and the people I love and have known my whole life or the fact that I'm going through a terrible realization that people I've known and trusted for a year pretty much scammed me, or the fact that I just left an audition where I had to tell a woman that the hospital will not do a lifesaving procedure on her son because she has no money or just life as it is right now in general, but I was right there alongside Jesus. I was open to myself and to my fears and to my pain and I felt them all. I felt tired and hungry afterward. I felt alive.
Not that I don't feel alive normally, with all my personal neurosis and defenses and whatnot, but I was there in communion with something much bigger than myself. Not my ego either. In fact I heard on a podcast earlier today how this one artist interviewed other artists and when asking them all why their friends like them all had answers like, "because I'm a fun guy," or "I give them candy and stuff," such as that. However, when digging deeper, past their own walls they had built up around themselves they realized that their friends really like them because they are honest people. I kind of realized that yeah, I like to think people like me because I'm funny, but perhaps the real reason people like me has more to do with the fact that I'm one of the most sincere people out there. Not saying they don't find me funny...but I'm not saying they do either, I guess.
Anyway, I sat with myself for a while this evening and I let myself feel. The other big thought that crossed my mind is that I love my parents so much, and one of the hardest facts I'll have to face is that someday, hopefully not anytime soon, my parents will die and I will be forever without them and I'll have to mourn them. This is a fact I dread, and I pray every day that it is delayed as long as possible. I do not wish to mourn my parents, I'd much rather have them here telling me they love me and frustrating me with how they confuse the names of everything.
With all that in mind, I need to open myself to life and run straight to the pain because there is something much better once you experience and pass through those spots of life. There is always more, everywhere you look.
I had a great experience in church tonight. I went to the Holy Thursday mass up in Burbank because I got out of an audition late and it was the closest Catholic church. It was a fascinating service. There were a total of four languages spoken. Some of the songs and even the readings were done in Vietnamese and Spanish as well as English. Then of course, because it's Holy Thursday there was a nice helping of Latin.
More than the words spoken were the emotions touched upon. A couple weeks ago one of my acting coaches told me that if I'm ever going to be a good actor and feel more on camera I need to feel more in everyday life. Now there's the biggest little piece of advice I ever got. I have been working more on feeling life in every moment, and whatever emotions flow through me.
The issue I have (and every other human has) is that, though I was super open to my emotions as a child, I built up walls as I grew up. Very functional walls that help me live every day. My sense of humor, my impartiality, all the things that make me me. However, with all of those fully functioning parts of me in play, other parts of me are so protected that they have grown a little stunted. I rarely cry, and when I do it hits me hard. My deep emotions are bottled up within me so that they kind of explode out...though anger is something I don't think I've ever really understood or had a grasp on, and it's something I think less than five people have seen over my nearly thirty years on this earth.
During the mass I felt the impact of what we were reenacting as a group. The washing of the feet, and poor Simon never getting it right but trying so very hard to be perfect. Songs have always been able to seep through my defenses better than most other things, and there was some great music during the mass. What started to hit me was the exit when I remembered this is the time of year, the very day when they remove the host, the trans-substantial body of Christ from the church, leaving it empty. Removing the host from His home. The lights slowly went out as we sang and processed outside of the church and across the street into the parish hall. There was other singing there and we all knelt in vigil alongside Jesus as he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane and asked us to remain with him, his companions and his friends. Unfortunately when he asked his disciples to do this they all fell asleep.
As I knelt there I felt waves of shame and fear and joy and...you know--emotions--flow through me. I know they'll continue through midnight keeping vigil, but I had enough time to go through my own little journey.
I'm not sure if it's because I'm away from home and the people I love and have known my whole life or the fact that I'm going through a terrible realization that people I've known and trusted for a year pretty much scammed me, or the fact that I just left an audition where I had to tell a woman that the hospital will not do a lifesaving procedure on her son because she has no money or just life as it is right now in general, but I was right there alongside Jesus. I was open to myself and to my fears and to my pain and I felt them all. I felt tired and hungry afterward. I felt alive.
Not that I don't feel alive normally, with all my personal neurosis and defenses and whatnot, but I was there in communion with something much bigger than myself. Not my ego either. In fact I heard on a podcast earlier today how this one artist interviewed other artists and when asking them all why their friends like them all had answers like, "because I'm a fun guy," or "I give them candy and stuff," such as that. However, when digging deeper, past their own walls they had built up around themselves they realized that their friends really like them because they are honest people. I kind of realized that yeah, I like to think people like me because I'm funny, but perhaps the real reason people like me has more to do with the fact that I'm one of the most sincere people out there. Not saying they don't find me funny...but I'm not saying they do either, I guess.
Anyway, I sat with myself for a while this evening and I let myself feel. The other big thought that crossed my mind is that I love my parents so much, and one of the hardest facts I'll have to face is that someday, hopefully not anytime soon, my parents will die and I will be forever without them and I'll have to mourn them. This is a fact I dread, and I pray every day that it is delayed as long as possible. I do not wish to mourn my parents, I'd much rather have them here telling me they love me and frustrating me with how they confuse the names of everything.
With all that in mind, I need to open myself to life and run straight to the pain because there is something much better once you experience and pass through those spots of life. There is always more, everywhere you look.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
How to feel like an ass without even trying: A way of life
Sometimes I am terrible at being a person. This is an email I wrote to a friend immediately after I got back to my apartment last night in a freak-out. Some details you should know first:
-D.L. stands for Diamond Lion, a musical improv group I go to every Friday with two of my improv friends, one of whom this email was sent to.
-This night I went alone to the show.
-Mike is our improv team coach and member of D.L.
-Eliza is a founder/member of D.L. and someone I have a mind-crush on because she's so friggin' hilarious and good at being funny/witty.
The email as it was sent:
GAH! So I am not allowed to go to a D.L. show alone, nor can I sit in the front row ever again. This is the long story of why:
After the show I left and started to head back to my apartment, but as I crossed the street I remembered Mike's words that I (meaning you, Chris and I) should hang out with all of them after the show sometime. I stopped and let my phone decide my fate for the night . Afterall, it is a SMART phone, so it should know best. I used the dice app, which three out of three times said I should go be brave and be social. That was bad choice #1.
Everything that follows is bad choice #2.
I turned around and waited outside the theater where I saw a few people I recognized from different shows. There were more performers watching D.L. than usual. The guest was some comedian I remember from somewhere as well, but I forget exactly. There was one of the cast members of the office hanging out there too. Mike wasn't out yet and I didn't want to embarrass myself so I went into that new bar right next door, waited outside the bathroom for a few minutes until I realized it was free and I'm just an idiot. Afterward I waited nearish the bar pretending like I was thinking of what I wanted to order.
I then went back outside and saw Mike (yay) with a couple other people. I greeted him, he introduced me to one of his friends, we talked for a minute before they all started migrating to La Poubelle. Mike's friend went to go check on his car so I followed Mike (the only person who knew me) who was talking to the other lady from D.L. The one that's not Eliza. At La Poubelle I held the door open for a few other people, one of which was a great improv guy I've seen in a bunch of shows and he teaches at Second City, he asked if we'd met before and I made some lame, awkward response, we shook hands before he scurried away from me.
This is where shit gets real!
La Poubelle is standing room only and full of real comedians. Like ones I've seen on TV, they must have been from that comedy show earlier in the evening. Moving my way through the crowd I brush past Stephen Merchant. Stephen Merchant! Co-creator of the original Office, and every other thing Ricky Gervais has done! Wow!
I basically moved slowly and awkwardly by groups of overwhelmingly talented people towards the back of the restaurant. There in a semi circle, next to Eugene who was talking to some guy, there was a people-sized space and--you guessed it--Eliza Skinner was talking to another improv guy, one of the people who I kind of "met" at the cafe the other day with Mike.
I thought that was the perfect set-up. I knew Mike was in line for the restroom and I couldn't stand creepily alone any longer...so I sauntered over to the group that I had the best shot with and incorporated myself into that circle. I couldn't have been creepier if I tried. Eugene was too deep in conversation with the other guy to notice me and Eliza had her back to me...but the people she was talking to gave me strong looks of "um...why are you creeping here you creeper?" It didn't help that I was doing and saying nothing. Their conversation stopped and Eliza turned around and smiled at me...an awkward smile of "what are you?" I smiled and said "I liked the show." She thanked me. We stared. I continued with "I go to a lot of them, I really enjoy it, it's one of my favorites." She smiled and thanked me politely. I kept standing there feeling the awkwardness compound uncontrollably. Staring. Pressure. I blurted "I know Mike, he's my coach...and Eugene is my...uh...my 301 teacher."
Eliza's smile was even more forcibly polite, "yep, there's a lot of teachers in the group." I continued to stand as painfully awkward as anyone can.
I thought I'd name my thought, so I said "I'm feeling really awkward I don't know how to end this conversation."
Eliza said we could say our names, so we shook hands and said our names. Then continued to smile politely. In silence. I could not stop my brain or my mouth. "Yeah, I enjoy the stuff, this is really awkward. I don't know how to make it stop, so....yep...I should go now. Bye." At this point my brain hit the abort button and I just walked straight through the bar, past Stephen Merchant, the guy from the American Office and all the other people from TV and back into the night air where I mentally beat myself up all the way back to my apartment.
So yeah, from now on I'm not operating without wingmen...and I can no longer sit in the front row. Ever.
--
Vinnie Duyck
-D.L. stands for Diamond Lion, a musical improv group I go to every Friday with two of my improv friends, one of whom this email was sent to.
-This night I went alone to the show.
-Mike is our improv team coach and member of D.L.
-Eliza is a founder/member of D.L. and someone I have a mind-crush on because she's so friggin' hilarious and good at being funny/witty.
The email as it was sent:
GAH! So I am not allowed to go to a D.L. show alone, nor can I sit in the front row ever again. This is the long story of why:
After the show I left and started to head back to my apartment, but as I crossed the street I remembered Mike's words that I (meaning you, Chris and I) should hang out with all of them after the show sometime. I stopped and let my phone decide my fate for the night . Afterall, it is a SMART phone, so it should know best. I used the dice app, which three out of three times said I should go be brave and be social. That was bad choice #1.
Everything that follows is bad choice #2.
I turned around and waited outside the theater where I saw a few people I recognized from different shows. There were more performers watching D.L. than usual. The guest was some comedian I remember from somewhere as well, but I forget exactly. There was one of the cast members of the office hanging out there too. Mike wasn't out yet and I didn't want to embarrass myself so I went into that new bar right next door, waited outside the bathroom for a few minutes until I realized it was free and I'm just an idiot. Afterward I waited nearish the bar pretending like I was thinking of what I wanted to order.
I then went back outside and saw Mike (yay) with a couple other people. I greeted him, he introduced me to one of his friends, we talked for a minute before they all started migrating to La Poubelle. Mike's friend went to go check on his car so I followed Mike (the only person who knew me) who was talking to the other lady from D.L. The one that's not Eliza. At La Poubelle I held the door open for a few other people, one of which was a great improv guy I've seen in a bunch of shows and he teaches at Second City, he asked if we'd met before and I made some lame, awkward response, we shook hands before he scurried away from me.
This is where shit gets real!
La Poubelle is standing room only and full of real comedians. Like ones I've seen on TV, they must have been from that comedy show earlier in the evening. Moving my way through the crowd I brush past Stephen Merchant. Stephen Merchant! Co-creator of the original Office, and every other thing Ricky Gervais has done! Wow!
I basically moved slowly and awkwardly by groups of overwhelmingly talented people towards the back of the restaurant. There in a semi circle, next to Eugene who was talking to some guy, there was a people-sized space and--you guessed it--Eliza Skinner was talking to another improv guy, one of the people who I kind of "met" at the cafe the other day with Mike.
I thought that was the perfect set-up. I knew Mike was in line for the restroom and I couldn't stand creepily alone any longer...so I sauntered over to the group that I had the best shot with and incorporated myself into that circle. I couldn't have been creepier if I tried. Eugene was too deep in conversation with the other guy to notice me and Eliza had her back to me...but the people she was talking to gave me strong looks of "um...why are you creeping here you creeper?" It didn't help that I was doing and saying nothing. Their conversation stopped and Eliza turned around and smiled at me...an awkward smile of "what are you?" I smiled and said "I liked the show." She thanked me. We stared. I continued with "I go to a lot of them, I really enjoy it, it's one of my favorites." She smiled and thanked me politely. I kept standing there feeling the awkwardness compound uncontrollably. Staring. Pressure. I blurted "I know Mike, he's my coach...and Eugene is my...uh...my 301 teacher."
Eliza's smile was even more forcibly polite, "yep, there's a lot of teachers in the group." I continued to stand as painfully awkward as anyone can.
I thought I'd name my thought, so I said "I'm feeling really awkward I don't know how to end this conversation."
Eliza said we could say our names, so we shook hands and said our names. Then continued to smile politely. In silence. I could not stop my brain or my mouth. "Yeah, I enjoy the stuff, this is really awkward. I don't know how to make it stop, so....yep...I should go now. Bye." At this point my brain hit the abort button and I just walked straight through the bar, past Stephen Merchant, the guy from the American Office and all the other people from TV and back into the night air where I mentally beat myself up all the way back to my apartment.
So yeah, from now on I'm not operating without wingmen...and I can no longer sit in the front row. Ever.
--
Vinnie Duyck
Friday, February 10, 2012
My 4 states
I'm taking a class right now that is kind of tying together my life. It's an improv-based class, but it's really focused on being emotionally big and believable on camera in the way all the Christopher Guest films are, and in a lesser way (or greater way, depending on your opinion), like Will Ferrell's movies.
We are working heavily on the commedia d'el arte notion of the four emotional states: Happy, sad, fear and anger. Man oh man, are we delving deeply into these! This is a great time for me to actually be revisiting this construct from my clown training a few years ago at the Portland Actors Conservatory.
The thing I'm finding is that for me and most of the other people in my class, fear and anger are the easiest to delve into. My personal thought is that it has something to do with the fact that we're all actors in LA, so we have plenty of reasons to be fearful and angry.
Three weeks ago I had a great breakthrough in another class where I had to play a scene in a hospital room with my dying mother (within the class rehearsal space). After some guided talk, I was fully in the reality of the moment and it was an amazing experience! It felt so real to me there was zero "acting" and 100% being. I have not been able to recreate that deep connection since then, but my overall realization was that to be an actor you have to be willing to put your loved ones in danger, at least emotionally and in the same part of your imagination that believes dreams are reality.
After thinking about that connection I have with the states of sadness, fear and anger, it intrigues me that the one state I find the hardest to go fully into is happiness. Apparently I'm not alone in this, it was consistently the most difficult for most people in class. The one state people strive for the most is the one that is hardest to get into.
While this one class is tying together all my training and stretching my muscles, the real question I am carrying with me is why happiness is so elusive. If I can get into the other emotional states with relatively little effort, why is happiness so elusive? Maybe I'm extrapolating too far out of bounds, but here I am searching for the answer to one of those big life questions. That in itself is an exciting and scary place to be.
We are working heavily on the commedia d'el arte notion of the four emotional states: Happy, sad, fear and anger. Man oh man, are we delving deeply into these! This is a great time for me to actually be revisiting this construct from my clown training a few years ago at the Portland Actors Conservatory.
The thing I'm finding is that for me and most of the other people in my class, fear and anger are the easiest to delve into. My personal thought is that it has something to do with the fact that we're all actors in LA, so we have plenty of reasons to be fearful and angry.
Three weeks ago I had a great breakthrough in another class where I had to play a scene in a hospital room with my dying mother (within the class rehearsal space). After some guided talk, I was fully in the reality of the moment and it was an amazing experience! It felt so real to me there was zero "acting" and 100% being. I have not been able to recreate that deep connection since then, but my overall realization was that to be an actor you have to be willing to put your loved ones in danger, at least emotionally and in the same part of your imagination that believes dreams are reality.
After thinking about that connection I have with the states of sadness, fear and anger, it intrigues me that the one state I find the hardest to go fully into is happiness. Apparently I'm not alone in this, it was consistently the most difficult for most people in class. The one state people strive for the most is the one that is hardest to get into.
While this one class is tying together all my training and stretching my muscles, the real question I am carrying with me is why happiness is so elusive. If I can get into the other emotional states with relatively little effort, why is happiness so elusive? Maybe I'm extrapolating too far out of bounds, but here I am searching for the answer to one of those big life questions. That in itself is an exciting and scary place to be.
Friday, February 3, 2012
My most embarrasing moment - on tape
I just watched the most embarrassing thing I've ever done (repeatedly in front of a crowd).
It was 2005, my bonus semester at Pacific University. I loved dancing, and I still do, and for some reason I had it in my mind that I wanted to choreograph a dance number for the autumn dance recital. Normally this is reserved for real dancers, ones who have actually studied. I had taken ballroom, swing and salsa, and ventured into courses in jazz and ballet, but I can by no means say I was good at any of them. I was bent on doing a musical piece that I knew would probably be terrible, but that excited and fueled me even more.
I love Weezer, and I fully believe that the blue album is one of the top 5 best albums of all time. As usual when it comes to things I end up adoring, I was formally introduced to the musical stylings of Weezer by a cute blonde girl. On one of their less appreciated albums there is a song "Hold Me." Listening to it I could visualize a story I wanted to tell in dance and movement. It would have a man and a woman, the two dancing separately for most of the song, enticing the other until the end when they come together. It was much like a movie where the guy and the girl metaphorically dance around each other until the end when they realize they are perfect for each other. I wanted to choreograph my half and have a girl choreograph her half and we would collaborate on merging our styles for the end of the piece. I had the girl in mind (a different blonde girl from the one who introduced me to Weezer). She was--and is very much still--an incredible dancer, and a wonderful, brilliant person. I approached her with the notion of collaborating on the dance piece. She said yes. We were both excited about it. Perfect start!
We met together in the dance studio several times working out the story of the piece, but after a few rehearsals, we came to heads about the choreography. Us choreographing our own bits was not gelling with her as she wanted one person to give the piece an over-arching style. My dream of having two wildly separate styles and pairing them might have been a bit of a fools dream, and I am always that fool. When we realized it wouldn't work out since neither of us wanted to hand over the reigns entirely to the other, we broke up as a dancing team. This was honestly one of the hardest break-ups for me, because I knew there was a lot of creative potential going to waste...and we were in no way a couple, but that did not make it any less of a break-up for either of us.
I wanted to forge ahead, and being a headstrong taurean, I wanted to keep the interplay of male and female energy, but I had no other person. My solution-I would do both myself. Solo piece! I kept rehearsing both parts, trying to give each a different energy and I designed a costume. Having access to the theatre's sewing room, I spliced together a skirt and frilly shirt for the left half and a men's shirt for the right half. In my dance, the right side would be male and have more angular movement and my left side would be female and have a softer, more fluid quality. My former dance partner still worked with me, but in ad advisory position guiding me along the way.
For the end of the song when the male and female energies merge, I kind of entered a frenetic spin where I ripped off the outer costume (I sewed velcro into the dress and shirts), revealing a white shirt underneath with my black dance pants. I then pranced about as a whole person embodying these two separate energies. Looking back, that must have been my idea of what a true relationship is. Sometimes I'm way too much of a romantic for my own good.
What brought this back into my life was a search for things I have done in the past to mine for comedy now. I did not have a copy of this performance (probably for the best), so I asked a friend who works at the college to track it down for me. She worked fast and a couple days later, here I am in my apartment watching myself prance about the stage almost 7 years ago.
It's not a long song, but by the end of watching it I was so embarrassed about my performance that I was sweating. It was almost a fear sweat from all the shame and excitement of seeing this kid--me--make a fool of himself. The reason it effected me so much is not because it was ridiculous, though it was. It's because I really meant it. The whole piece came from a deeply sincere place. When I performed it, I remember both enjoying the fact that people were entertained enough to laugh at it, but also feeling confused and hurt as to why, since it was a serious piece at heart. That one instance of putting my soul out on a limb taught me two things: 1. If you are a funny person, people expect everything you do to be funny, so be prepared to be laughed at for everything, and 2. Real pain is the true source of comedy.
I'm not saying I'm a clown with a tear running down my cheek, but I guess I did achieve what I set out to do. I performed in the dance recital with the most vulnerable performance of my life at that time. I entertained and expressed myself fully. I now have video proof that I am an idiot adventurer. Even though I am ultimately embarrassed at watching myself prance about the stage putting my heart into every awkward move, I have a little bit of pride in knowing that it was pure and a sincere performance. That doesn't mean I'll be sharing this video anytime soon.
It was 2005, my bonus semester at Pacific University. I loved dancing, and I still do, and for some reason I had it in my mind that I wanted to choreograph a dance number for the autumn dance recital. Normally this is reserved for real dancers, ones who have actually studied. I had taken ballroom, swing and salsa, and ventured into courses in jazz and ballet, but I can by no means say I was good at any of them. I was bent on doing a musical piece that I knew would probably be terrible, but that excited and fueled me even more.
I love Weezer, and I fully believe that the blue album is one of the top 5 best albums of all time. As usual when it comes to things I end up adoring, I was formally introduced to the musical stylings of Weezer by a cute blonde girl. On one of their less appreciated albums there is a song "Hold Me." Listening to it I could visualize a story I wanted to tell in dance and movement. It would have a man and a woman, the two dancing separately for most of the song, enticing the other until the end when they come together. It was much like a movie where the guy and the girl metaphorically dance around each other until the end when they realize they are perfect for each other. I wanted to choreograph my half and have a girl choreograph her half and we would collaborate on merging our styles for the end of the piece. I had the girl in mind (a different blonde girl from the one who introduced me to Weezer). She was--and is very much still--an incredible dancer, and a wonderful, brilliant person. I approached her with the notion of collaborating on the dance piece. She said yes. We were both excited about it. Perfect start!
We met together in the dance studio several times working out the story of the piece, but after a few rehearsals, we came to heads about the choreography. Us choreographing our own bits was not gelling with her as she wanted one person to give the piece an over-arching style. My dream of having two wildly separate styles and pairing them might have been a bit of a fools dream, and I am always that fool. When we realized it wouldn't work out since neither of us wanted to hand over the reigns entirely to the other, we broke up as a dancing team. This was honestly one of the hardest break-ups for me, because I knew there was a lot of creative potential going to waste...and we were in no way a couple, but that did not make it any less of a break-up for either of us.
I wanted to forge ahead, and being a headstrong taurean, I wanted to keep the interplay of male and female energy, but I had no other person. My solution-I would do both myself. Solo piece! I kept rehearsing both parts, trying to give each a different energy and I designed a costume. Having access to the theatre's sewing room, I spliced together a skirt and frilly shirt for the left half and a men's shirt for the right half. In my dance, the right side would be male and have more angular movement and my left side would be female and have a softer, more fluid quality. My former dance partner still worked with me, but in ad advisory position guiding me along the way.
For the end of the song when the male and female energies merge, I kind of entered a frenetic spin where I ripped off the outer costume (I sewed velcro into the dress and shirts), revealing a white shirt underneath with my black dance pants. I then pranced about as a whole person embodying these two separate energies. Looking back, that must have been my idea of what a true relationship is. Sometimes I'm way too much of a romantic for my own good.
What brought this back into my life was a search for things I have done in the past to mine for comedy now. I did not have a copy of this performance (probably for the best), so I asked a friend who works at the college to track it down for me. She worked fast and a couple days later, here I am in my apartment watching myself prance about the stage almost 7 years ago.
It's not a long song, but by the end of watching it I was so embarrassed about my performance that I was sweating. It was almost a fear sweat from all the shame and excitement of seeing this kid--me--make a fool of himself. The reason it effected me so much is not because it was ridiculous, though it was. It's because I really meant it. The whole piece came from a deeply sincere place. When I performed it, I remember both enjoying the fact that people were entertained enough to laugh at it, but also feeling confused and hurt as to why, since it was a serious piece at heart. That one instance of putting my soul out on a limb taught me two things: 1. If you are a funny person, people expect everything you do to be funny, so be prepared to be laughed at for everything, and 2. Real pain is the true source of comedy.
I'm not saying I'm a clown with a tear running down my cheek, but I guess I did achieve what I set out to do. I performed in the dance recital with the most vulnerable performance of my life at that time. I entertained and expressed myself fully. I now have video proof that I am an idiot adventurer. Even though I am ultimately embarrassed at watching myself prance about the stage putting my heart into every awkward move, I have a little bit of pride in knowing that it was pure and a sincere performance. That doesn't mean I'll be sharing this video anytime soon.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Muse-ings
I find the notion of the Muse fascinating, an elusive and fickle creature who brings people inspiration, usually at the most inopportune times. Perhaps it's like the Easter bunny leaving little idea eggs all over, some of them we step on and squish out everywhere. I'm not sure anyone would approve of the Easter bunny showing up in August or whenever he wanted, we have a specific day scheduled for his arrival. Imagine the tooth-fairy showing up in the middle of the night to get your tooth, but she's so clumbsy she wakes you up every time, giving you face-bruises and instead of money she leaves ice-cubes, so if you don't deal with it right away you wake up in a cold, wet bed. That's just how I feel when my muse gives me a great idea in the car and for some reason I can't get to a pen and write it down, and by the time I get home I forgot most of it anyway.
It's also fascinating that most people talk about the muse as female. For most people, if Angelina Jolie walked in the room to tell you something, you'd probably drop whatever you were doing to listen. The problem is if she does this when you're in the middle of an important discussion or heated debate you can't just get out of, and when you are free to listen to what she has to say, she's gotten jealous of having to share your attention attention and moved on.
Stephen King in his book "On Writing" has the best idea I've heard about the muse. Instead of a gorgeous ethereal female figure, the muse it a fat, lazy man who sits on your couch eating chips all day, making messes everywhere you have to clean up. The problem is you can't kick him out because every once in a while he'll say something that is brilliant you just have to write that very second before he interrupts to tell you there's no more toilet paper so he used other things. (I took some liberties on this retelling).
Sometimes I find the muse is more akin to someone who sleeps around. More than once I've had a moment of sheer inspiration and written down what I believed to be a uniquely new idea. I was so excited about it until I went to see a movie the next day and saw that exact thing on screen. Apparently my muse and I are not in a monogamous relationship if she's giving out the same ideas to whoever she pleases. What if this can work both ways? Maybe I can have several muses I draw from...but the idea of sustaining a relationship with several muses is not that palatable when I think of how tenuous my current muse-receptor relationship is.
My new plan on relating with my muse is to treat it like a house cat. Cats can show you great love and companionship, but scratch your face the very next second. So far, very apt with the muse. The more you want a cat to come, the less it will. Yep, very muse-like. If you have a regular schedule, the cat knows it and adjusts, being all cute and cuddly when it expects to be fed. So, perhaps I will have to take the easiest and often most difficult approach to courting my muse. I must have a regular schedule where I write no matter what and completely ignore my muse. He/She/it will just have to adjust to not being fawned over whenever they want attention and fit themselves into my schedule if they want to be stroked.
Now it's more like a relationship that got too serious so I broke it off, but I still want to be friends. I might miss the compulsive nature of my muse and all the random adventures we used to have, but that's the price of a stable, reliable relationship...and who says we can't still drive to the beach at 3 am once in a while?
It's also fascinating that most people talk about the muse as female. For most people, if Angelina Jolie walked in the room to tell you something, you'd probably drop whatever you were doing to listen. The problem is if she does this when you're in the middle of an important discussion or heated debate you can't just get out of, and when you are free to listen to what she has to say, she's gotten jealous of having to share your attention attention and moved on.
Stephen King in his book "On Writing" has the best idea I've heard about the muse. Instead of a gorgeous ethereal female figure, the muse it a fat, lazy man who sits on your couch eating chips all day, making messes everywhere you have to clean up. The problem is you can't kick him out because every once in a while he'll say something that is brilliant you just have to write that very second before he interrupts to tell you there's no more toilet paper so he used other things. (I took some liberties on this retelling).
Sometimes I find the muse is more akin to someone who sleeps around. More than once I've had a moment of sheer inspiration and written down what I believed to be a uniquely new idea. I was so excited about it until I went to see a movie the next day and saw that exact thing on screen. Apparently my muse and I are not in a monogamous relationship if she's giving out the same ideas to whoever she pleases. What if this can work both ways? Maybe I can have several muses I draw from...but the idea of sustaining a relationship with several muses is not that palatable when I think of how tenuous my current muse-receptor relationship is.
My new plan on relating with my muse is to treat it like a house cat. Cats can show you great love and companionship, but scratch your face the very next second. So far, very apt with the muse. The more you want a cat to come, the less it will. Yep, very muse-like. If you have a regular schedule, the cat knows it and adjusts, being all cute and cuddly when it expects to be fed. So, perhaps I will have to take the easiest and often most difficult approach to courting my muse. I must have a regular schedule where I write no matter what and completely ignore my muse. He/She/it will just have to adjust to not being fawned over whenever they want attention and fit themselves into my schedule if they want to be stroked.
Now it's more like a relationship that got too serious so I broke it off, but I still want to be friends. I might miss the compulsive nature of my muse and all the random adventures we used to have, but that's the price of a stable, reliable relationship...and who says we can't still drive to the beach at 3 am once in a while?
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