Tuesday, August 21, 2007

some money would be nice

The scheduling for my day job is prepared a month in advance. In the middle of the month, our supervisor posts a large calendar on her cubicle, and we all sign up for the shifts we would like to have. Generally, people are happy with this system. We're able to avoid working during major life events—weddings and the like—if we know when they will be in advance. We're allowed to work a maximum of four days a week, for which I happen to be paid almost EXACTLY what I need to pay bills.

As an actor, this system is difficult to work with. I check audition listings regularly, and submit for everything I can. It's the only way to get work. Unfortunately, some of these auditions conflict with my prearranged shifts. Even worse, so do some of the callbacks. It's not easy to exchange shifts, because most people don't have the availability to swap. And it's hard to give up the shift entirely to some people—that pesky four day maximum again.

I happen to be writing this on my day off. All day, I've had the sinking feeling that I'm not making the best use of my time. Surely I could be using this time off to be making some extra cash. But how?

Last weekend, I submitted my resume to a temp agency (the regular kind, which I had to make a few days ago for the first time). Maybe they'll call me with some good news sometime this week.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

missing the rush

A few minutes ago, I started to feel pretty low, and I couldn't pinpoint why. Then it occurred to me that at this exact moment, for the last five weeks, the curtain was going up on a show I was doing. But that show is closed. This feeling is withdrawal.

Of course, I’m hitting the audition circuit, and I have a class starting in a few weeks. But there's nothing worse than the limbo known as "in-between" shows. You begin to wonder if you'll ever act again.

But then... you snap out of it. You look at your resume and notice that you've had some pretty damn good parts over the years. Somebody gave you a chance before, and it'll happen again. Just relax and go along for the ride. Relax, but never let up. Stay primed for the next one.

This is what it's like to be an actor.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

shmee-tee-eh?

As I write this, the el car I'm riding is groaning over the strain of several million too many passengers. This train system should have been revamped years ago. It's hard to imagine where all the fare money goes. How many millions of riders paying how many more millions of dollars for the pleasure of commuting for work or school or shopping? Where is this money going?

The workers, for one thing--but they're probably underpaid. And renovating train platforms, for another. So that, when it's all finished, we can wait on a stylish, modern platform for the ride that's 20 minutes late because the tracks and trains haven't been properly maintained for decades.

Ah, progress.

If you think things are bad now, how do you think it will be if we actually get the Olympics in 2016?

Sunday, August 5, 2007

eh?

The number one rule for all actors is simply to listen. But how, you ask?

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

how to: make a great pot of tea

I recently learned a few tips from a Canadian who often prepares high tea for guests at a Shakespeare festival:

1. Boil the water

Don't just get it hot. Boil it. Electric kettles work fine, with the added benefit of shutting off at just the right temperature. Microwaving is not recommended. When I'm at home, I personally prefer the old whistling-type stovetop kettle, but when I'm working at a theatre, an electric kettle is really the only choice.

2. Heat the teapot

If the pot is cold, it'll cool the boiling water too quickly and won't let the leaves steep properly. To heat the pot, either stick it in an oven at low heat or (if you're away from an oven) fill the teapot with very hot water. I find it handy to boil some water, pour it in the teapot, and let it set for a minute or so. Then bring the water in the kettle back to a boil (it won't take long becuase it's already hot) as you empty the pot and add the leaves.

3. Add the water to the tea

And not the other way around. The water should be boiling as it touches the tea. After adding the water, put the lid on the pot.

4. Let it steep

You don't have to touch it. Don't swirl it, dunk it, or shake it. Just let the water and the tea do its magical thing for 3-5 minutes, depending on how strong you like it. Any less, and it's not tea. Any more, and you've got a bitter mess. When the time's up, open the lid and discard the teabags. Consider using a tea cozy if you're not going to drink it too quickly.

5. Enjoy

Pour and add your sugar and milk or lemon, if you like. If you're going to add milk, make sure you put it in the cup before you pour the tea. There's actual science behind this: it has to do with letting the milk cool the tea, instead of the tea scalding the milk. If you're going to add lemon, don't add milk. Rememeber that one time at the bar when your friends ordered you a cement mixer? That's why.

Will knowing how to prepare tea make you a better actor? Probably not. But it will make you a better person.* There's also the cool factor, and the chance that someone might make some scones for you. And the street cred. The sweet, sweet, streed cred.
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*Not true.

hot hot heat

It's getting hot. People get cranky when they're hot. What are we going to do when we find out this global warning thing is for real? Will we devour ourselves in an orgy of bickering and hostility?

For folks who live in hot climates, naps are the norm. So is sweating. If it keeps getting hotter, we're not going to be able to sustain our workaholic lifestyles. Our culture is going to have to become okay with slowing down and resting. And sweating. If we're going to survive, that is. And we will. The nice thing about overpopulation is it gives the human race as a whole pretty good odds for longevity.

Maybe global warming is god's way of telling us to get some sleep.