The Idea That Everyone Has

I want to write a book.

I know, I know.  Everyone wants to write a book.  Everyone has at least one good book in them.  Sam Johnson's Rambler #4.  Yadda yadda yadda.

The book would be funny.  Poignant. Chick lit, Memoir, mysterious.

It's cliche.  I hate being a cliche.  And yet, this cliche wants to write a book.  Need to figure out WHAT to write.  And how to write it.  Stories used to be in my head, and I'd just listen to them and write them down.  That doesn't happen now.

So since I'm not getting any acting jobs, I want to write.  And get published.  I know (cliche).

But it's worth a shot.  I'm saying it to then world (or myself, since no one reads this blog).  Time to brainstorm.  See if I can find a story with a beginning middle and end.

What I really want to say is- that I have something to say, and I want to find a way to do it in a novel.

Cross your fingers for me.

Saturday Night Vent

So I'm about two weeks away from a lot of quality family time.  I'd dreading it like....I'm trying to articulate this dread in witty and hilarious way but I can't.  Know that it was hilarious and it had something to do with a comic and scary spring away from alien face-suckers armed with eggplants.  I'm really not looking forward to this, "lest you do not understand me well.*"

What I really want to say is that I wish I had an acting job so that I had a good reason not to go.

I love my family.  I really do. I love them and they love me.  And we love each other (except for my parents, who hate each other). But we are marvelously dysfunctional, like the rest of the planet.  In my case, my father is a pretty selfish guy who dresses up like the perfect Dad.  My mom is a passive aggressive turned aggressive woman who likes to be taken care of.  Oh, by the way, neither parent has any kind of substance abuse issue.

In the family dynamic; my sister is the perfect one- the achiever, the swot (Success WithOut Trying).   I'm the one who tries to keep everyone happy.  Both my sister and I are pretty angry about these roles we play.  My sister has a hair trigger temper.  I pretend not to have one- everything's good, I'm fine- until I am pushed off the cliff..  Then I fly back with guns blazing.

We love each other, but I doubt we would be friends if we weren't family.  My sister thinks I'm selfish. I think she is a bully.   I would die for her.

When it comes to the divorce between our folks- we never talk about it.  I don't know what she thinks about it really.  I don't know if it haunts her the way it haunts me.  I sometimes want to ask her, but I know that if I did, she would get angry at me for asking.

I am working like hell to turn in my "Family Peace-maker" resignation.  Of course, this is not going well.  It's being met with a Hell of a Lot of Resistance.  So there's a lot of friction in the family because I'm no longer playing the role circumstances cast me in.

Some folks say that people with troubled pasts go into the performing arts.  If it's true, no wonder I ended up as an actress.

None of this is actually for anyone but me.  But what I really want to say is that I would like to play other roles, from my family life right through my professional life.

*shakespeare!

If it's Tuesday I Guess I'm Working

So I had a small acting job on Tuesday.  In the craziness that is part of this business my call was at 5:00am.  Then I got a call saying that my call-time had been changed to 1:00PM.  Hee!

Holding was under a big tent in the rain.  Due to the humidity, it was pretty hot.  But the Pas were great, the hair guy (his name is Victor) was/is amazing.  I'd love it if he could style my hair every day.  My hair is like an naughty dog.  You ask it to sit or roll over and it looks at you innocently, as it to say, "Oh do mean ME? THIS me?"  But then someone else comes over to the dog and says "Sit."  And it does.  And then eagerly jumps through hoops to do everything and more for them.  That's my hair.

It was a straight 8 hour day, which is fine, but I always like long days.  Overtime is a lovely thing.  I'm glad I had the job, and now, of course, I am on the hunt for another job.  That's the thing about acting; you always know the project will end, and you're always on the lookout for another one.

So what I really want to say is, "I love working.  I'd like to work some more please."

Monday Monday

So one more weekend in the books.  I saw a play- the theatre had NO Air-Conditioning, so I suspect I lost about 5 lbs. of water weight.  The play was pretty good.  I know the writer/director, and I keep finding that his work is visually stunning and the stories are compelling, but that they are devoid of real feeling.  They always seem so clinical, and smart- but the empathy isn't there.  It's not a problem with the actors- they were fine-  it's that the language doesn't allow them to be.

Or maybe I'm just over-sensitive.

I have a ton of friends whose shows are opening in the next couple of weeks.  Some I want to see, and others I'm seeing more out of a sense of duty.   There will be a lot of juggling of schedules (and pennies) to see them all.  I'm happy for all my friends, but I really really wish I was in rehearsal for something.

It's a lonely feeling, when all of your friends have something creative going on when you're not.

But the world keeps turning and tomorrow things could be different.   Or, to be all Scarlett O'Hara:  Tomorrow is another day.

Broccoli and Cauliflower

So here's the thing.  I like vegetables.  I really do.  But I am finicky.  I'm an adult now and I'm supposed to  like all foods and can eat them without wrinkling my nose or looking askance at certain vegetables.

I can act my way out of it; pretend my tastes buds aren't revolting against the revolting food.  But still.  I'm an adult right?  Shouldn't it be my right to dislike certain foods?

Take Broccoli.  I want to like Broccoli.  But there's something...I feel like I'm eating a bush.  The florets have a weird texture that makes me think I'm eating tiny bubbles of insect flesh.  And the stalks...well, I feel like I'm eating stringy stalks.  And there's a weird smell.  I don't like how Broccoli smells, especially when it's been steamed.

Cauliflower is clearly Broccoli that has turned into a zombie.   At beast, they look like albino brains.  Save me from the mutant Broccoli!

Hey, Attack of the Zombie Vegetables!  It could be the next horror/comic franchise.  I'm sure Christian Bale is available.

I Have Something To Say

I'm an actress.  I'm out of work.  I have strong feelings about that.

Most of the time, my job is to show up, know my lines, and not make waves.  Which means not expressing my opinion.  If a writer asks, "what did you think?" you are to tell them, "it's the best play ever" because if you give them honest notes they'll hate you.  Pretty much, as an actress, it's best to keep your true opinions to yourself.

And then I go home and tell myself "but what I really wanted to say is fill-in-the-blank-here."

Life is weird.  So here's my place to say the things I don't say to people.

Today, what I really want to say is:

• Casting Director A, stop telling me to keep days free and then not cast me for the role.
• Directors, stop telling me how talented I am but forgetting I exist when they cast their projects
• Boy- Silence is not a way to communicate.
• Universe:  I want to work.  I want to get PAID to work.

When I was a kid, I saw an original musical written for a summer camp called "Run for the Rose Garden." I remember was a guy running for office, and any time he opened his mouth to say something, someone would interrupt him.  He never got a word in.


He had a song which I remember this way:
                   Too Many Voices, Too Many Words,
                   So Many Choices these days;
                   Through all of this screaming has anyone heard
                    I have something to say
                    I have something to say
                    I.....have something.....to say


I'm betting that not the only one out there who has something to say.