Schooled

Oh my, what a whirlwind of a week. Today's the first day I've felt relatively back on my normal schedule after shooting this weekend, and I'm still feeling high about how it all went down. (I just re-read my last post, and I did literally seem a little high. High on sleep-deprivation, that is!!!)

I started my first of four weeks of teaching at the theater camps for Theatre Horizon on Monday. (FYI, Theatre Horizon is a non-profit theater co. in Philadelphia, headed by my sister Erin and our lifelong friend Matt Decker. It started with these shows we'd put on in the summers when I was 14, and then blossomed into music revues, Odets revivals, fundraiser parties, and then finally full on incorporation and state grants. But, like most theaters, the ticket sales don't pay the bills, but their education programs do. Most of them, in fact.) I was nervous, since the last time I taught was two years ago for the Women's Project in East Harlem, and that went badly. Not badly, per se, buuuut...let's just say it only took four 8 year old girls in public school uniforms and some attitudes the size of the V train to rip me a new one and make me feel like the dorky fat kid I was in elementary school. Ugh.

These children, however, have not ripped new assholes for me. Yet. If one more kid asks in the middle of "Zing Pow Boing" if their costume can include a handbag and magenta tights that look just so underneath their favorite new Hannah Montana shirt, my head might explode. (I envision that scene of baby Superman speeding away from Krypton as it erupts into a shower of sparky space stalactites.) These are not tough kids. These are materialistic kids. These are kids who want to be stars.

I can't blame them. So did I. My co-teacher and I bonded today over the fact that we both would sing "Annie" in public places (or my backyard. whatever.) just in case a Broadway producer was standing within earshot and was hit by a bolt of triple-threat-shaped lightning at the sound of my voice. ("Never have I heard a belt like that since Ethel! Wowie!") That's one of the reasons I loathe these children. Here are some other reasons:

1. They never shut up.
2. If you want to be a star so bad, shut up and help me block your stupid scene for your stupid play.
3. They ad-lib.
4. They touch everything.
5. They immediately break the No-Touching-This Rule I just made up five seconds before.
6. They leave their trash everywhere.
7. They scatter like cockroaches.
8. They never shut up.

My only consolation is that in a few short years, they'll be the camp counselors and babysitters that have to deal with little shits like them. Karma, small devil spawn!

But then, that magic of theater hits you. The way they refer to stage directions while they skip across stage is adorable. The way everything about their play is fantastic and magical is inspiring. The intricate details they labor over as they craft their characters excites me. They are each one unique and interesting, and when that moment comes when you can actually hear their stupid lines past the end of the stage...well, it's very fulfilling.

But above it all, it reminds me of my beginning in theater. My first show was Cinderella, and I wore a page boy costume made out of carpet squares and duct tape. I was six. My first theater camp, I was ten years old, and I sweat over every song and dance like it was my job. I dreamed it would be. I told everyone I would be an actress. I kept singing in malls and restaurants and parking lots, when no one was listening. I kept going to camps, and classes, and auditions, and I went to drama school, and I still wanted it to be my job.

Oh man. These kids are writing a show about a poison pizza stolen from a pizza shop. There's a chase sequence. And a random knight. And a toddler who is a rich & famous celebrity. And they love it.

The End of the See

Since wi-fi in LAX costs $9.99 per day (WTF?!!! What good is having a mac with Airport if the actual airport sucks big fat ass?!) I started writing this waiting for my delayed red-eye in Los Angeles and am posting it the next day in Philadelphia. Yeesh.

So. The end of Operation Los Angeles Go-See has come to an end. (After 14 hours of travel spanning the nation, via changeovers in Newark, Trenton, and ending in King of Prussia, PA. Heeeelllllll.)

But it’s okay, because the rest of the Operation was a hearty success! Hurrah! I got to spend some quality time sitting with my fellow Angelenos on the 101 (sans air conditioning, thank you very much), dined at the #1 restaurant in LA, Lucques, swam with musicians and red seaweed in Malibu, had some lengthy discussions with some awesome actors about how great/horrible/exciting/terrifying it is living in the entertainment capital of the world, took a look at a SWEET apartment I can’t afford unless I start selling my eggs, drove around a hybrid and pretended it was mine, and vomited in a plastic bag in the parking lot of a Holiday Inn the morning after my big birthday bash in a resort paid for by my boyfriend’s law firm. Awesome all around!

Puke aside, my goals for this trip were two-fold: explore LA both as an actor and as a potential citizen. I felt the need to really push myself to do so, or else I’d rock back into that happy little nook of laziness I’ve wickedly gotten too comfortable with in Manhattan; however, I feel entirely satisfied with what I’ve discovered. Not only is Los Angeles chock full of sunshine and blue skies, it’s also crowding with hills and mountains, hazy cerulean ocean, and opportunites to explore nature in every corner. Not to say it’s not as urban of an environment as you’ll find, but the beauty of this town is that you wander down the busiest of intersections and suddenly find yourself surrounded by houses in a picture perfect example of suburbia. You can hide yourself away in a secret neighborhood and forget you’re in LA at all.

And then came the incessant interviews. In asking my college friends, all of whom have lived here for 3 years or less, the general consensus is that the quality of living is better than in New York. All of my friends have settled into sweet homes in good neighborhoods they like and can afford, a rampant problem in New York. But some things never change: muggings, identity theft, perverts, and bad drivers. Urban living is urban living.

In reference to the questions pertaining to the actual business, an actress/writer/director/producer I met through the Tisch Alumni East told me that despite the extreme susceptibility to slide into deep loneliness here (no one gets out of their cars) she was wholly grateful to Los Angeles. She was pushed to discover herself, what she wanted out of herself and her career, what she felt passionate about (theater) and how to bring it into her life (produce her own work and start her own theater company.) Another actress, a friend of a friend, told us over lunch in Los Feliz how creative and how extraordinarily involved the community is. She reassured me that there is work out here, strike or not, there are projects going on, and that creating a life for yourself through acting is feasible. That was the word of the lunch: feasible. What is doable? What can I accomplish?

I am more encouraged than ever by this trip the answer to that is a positive one. I can accomplish whatever I want, whether it is acting or writing, dancing or lawyering.

The positivity is already working! I got called in for more work for One Life to Live, which I can't do anyway, aaaand my agent called me in for a live industrial for the Eagles (whaaat) which will pay me so much money for 2 1/2 weeks that I won't have to worry about my move at all. The bad news is, it literally screws up every other plan I have for this summer. Whatevs, I'm getting carried away.

Anyway. In conclusion. To quote the Decemberists: Los Angeles, I’m Yours. I’ll see you in October? Yes.

Next up: Operation Make a Whole Shitload of Money.