Trauma and The Upgrade

Laguna Honda Hospital, SF – Spooky location for today’s shoot

It wasn't this shiny and clean, but does this give you an idea of the flavor of the place? We were told it's haunted.

This is big, y’all! 

It’s – what? – my fifth or sixth time going to the Trauma set to work an Extra gig, which, shhhhh, you’re never to tell anyone if you want to be taken seriously as an actor, right? But today I got lines! This is BIG!

Today I got “bumped”, which sounds bad until someone tells you that what it means is that you were just handed some actual lines. You get to act. What a concept! And you get more money! Snap! And you move up the food chain for that day! Rock on! 

I didn’t expect this. My day started with my car battery dying, so that I figured it was a sign for me not to go. Let’s see…kick my own butt finding some way to get there, maybe be late and not make it on set because I’ll miss the transport van, or just stay home and try to find some work? A day of being paid furniture, or stay at home and work on something else? Giving in to my responsible nature, I borrowed my friend’s truck, sat through not one, not two, but three traffic jams to make it across town to some unmarked place behind a mall – a place that all of us had trouble finding because it wasn’t marked by Trauma signs – and made it into a shuttle van by the skin of my teeth. 

I had brought a thermos full of decaf coffee, a crossword book, my iPhone, and my surrender to a day of likely sitting-around, or standing for long periods of time in order to walk from one side of a room to the other, and back. The life of an Extra! I was loaded for bear!

But I never even opened my thermos!

The first thing we did was go to wardrobe. I was slated to be a “volunteer”. So I was given a little vest to wear. Okay, I’m a volunteer; works for me! Then Ted, the Assistant Director, arrived, and had a conversation with the wardrobe ladies, and – *ping* – I’m a nurse! Don’t you wish life worked this way??? Ted then took a picture of me. Wait a minute – what? “Yeah, I need a picture of you.” Okay. I smiled and that was that. Right? No. “Nnnooo, no I need a smirk.” One smirk, coming up.

I am a graduate of Michael Kostloff’s Audition class – and someone who has learned that you don’t assume much, if anything, of some events until you know for sure that you should do! – so I just took it all at face value. This makes me either brilliant and balanced, or a flippin’ idiot! Your choice!

We were bused from the base camp – a small, gorgeous church – to Laguna Honda Hospital, and taken to the fifth floor (I think it was?) and told to grab a chair and hang out. Cool. Time to find food! Ahhh…the perennial peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich breakfast! I don’t know why Craft Services on Trauma always supplies this – and for all I know it’s some kind of industry thing…what do I know? – but it’s always there, and thank God for it!

Not long after we had settled in, Ted called out my name and took me aside, into one of the hospital rooms, and asked me, “Can you help us out with a rehearsal?” I could have sworn he asked if I would read some lines during rehearsal. I thought I was going to do some kind of stand-in assistance until the “real” actor showed up. 

So: “Can you help us out?” asked Ted. 

“Sure!” I said. 

“Are you AFTRA?” [American Federation of TV and Radio Artists - one of the two main film unions] 

“Yep!” 

And I read the lines out loud like you’d read an instruction to someone. But no! Ted wanted me to really do the lines! He modeled how he wanted it to sound, and I said, “Oh! You really want me to act!” How hilarious. I swear I heard him say he wanted me to “help out at rehearsal”! (And as I’m typing this, it occurrs to me: this was my audition! If I sounded like hell, he could easily and kindly move on to someone else. Hmmm. Nice tactic!)

We were filming in San Francisco in the Laguna Honda Hospital, built in 1866, and an absolutely perfect place to film a new version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Fantastic, moody place; and, we were told, haunted! And patients and staff were there because it’s a working hospital! The patients on our floor were to a large extent in wheelchairs, 60′s and up, and either doing art therapy, or rolling themselves into the Extras Holding area and finding a sunny spot to bask in, or an Extra to stare at, wordlessly.  (Now that’s entertainment!)

So, in an environment like this, I had to ask Ted, “Do you want Nurse Ratched?” “No,” he said, “I just want a teacher scolding a student.” 

After two more rehearsals, he told me to say it without the script. Quick memorization??? Not my forte, I thought. I was wrong. Thank goodness. I repeated it, and he said, “Okay. Good. You can go back to Holding. [the Extras' Holding area] Just don’t tell anyone about this yet, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Still numb. This didn’t seem like I was “helping” with a rehearsal. Was I being bumped? Upgraded? Ohmigod! I certainly was. 

My first time being upgraded! My first lines on National TV! A big step! A credit of my own! A mention on imdb.com. A now partially-opened door to someday becoming a SAG actor.

Remember my Oscar Night “Epiphany” blog? Luck, not talent, I said, gives us opened doors. 

Well, today, luck dropped by my house!

Trauma. Episode 19. “Crossed Wires” is the name of the episode.  If the scene isn’t cut for some reason, I’ll be on National TV! A-maz-ing! (I did do that National Comcast xfinity commercial months ago, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of that! And so it goes.)

So, you ask, what did I get to do? Speak three lines, hit the gorgeous young lead, Wes, upside the head, and jettison him out of a wheelchair! This is big fun! (Yes, I did say “hit him”. Yes, I did say I threw him out of a wheelchair.) 

After we rehearsed a few times, everyone went to lunch. Someone came up to me and asked me if I customarily tipped people out of wheelchairs. Of course! I said. The same person gave me some beautifully veiled advice about how to play the scene: “Do you have kids? You seem like someone who could boss her kid around. That’s what that scene seems like to me.” 

Back on set, we were all wired for sound, Extras were brought in, and we were off to the races. 

“Action!“ 

Down the long, dark hall toward Wes (and me) walks Aimee, the female lead in this scene, and spots Wes in a wheelchair. Feeling tremendous guilt for his state – she feels responsible for putting him in harm’s way – she begins to apologize, choking up, when I suddenly burst on the scene, yelling, “Landers! Get out of the chair, dammit!” At this point I hit this gorgeous man upside the head. And then I take a firm grip on the handles of the wheelchair and throw him out of it.  “Save it for someone who needs it!” and off I go, leaving Aimee’s character to verbally kick his butt for trying to play her. 

The first time I pitched him out of the chair, he came over to me and said, “Hey, just really throw me out hard! It’s perfect! Makes me laugh, which is exactly what I need to be doing just then!” Hey, all in a day’s work!

Well, the 8th or 9th time that I hit him upside the head, I went over to him and asked if his head was still okay. He’s young; he’s a committed actor; he was fine; and I wasn’t really hitting him all that hard … I hope. 

So he was fine. Even I seemed to be okay – seemed to be doing what they wanted. People were telling me, unasked, that I was doing well. Nice! And my faith in my abilities suddenly stood me in good stead. I knew that I was doing exactly what was right for the scene: I was giving a natural, character performance without chewing the scenery, and I was aiding the scene rather than scene-stealing or posturing. There in service to the scene? Check! Doing it well? Check! What more is there?

Between takes I took a moment to sit down, and I saw a sign on the wall for veterans, offering them the opportunity to apply for $11,000 grants for schooling. I was tickled by the sign, because the first line read, “You Have Sacrified”. No, that’s not a typo. No, I didn’t forget the “c”. “You Have Sacrified“. I showed that to two other actors, and we giggled. It brought out the Southern Preacher side of all of us! “I. have. sacrified! Amen!“

Maybe you had to be there. 

Well, after a three-and-a-half or 4 hours or so, we wrapped. And finally, after the whole day, I got to share my good fortune with one of my friends on set, Diana. She grabbed me in her arms and shouted, “CONGRATULATIONS!!!” She was so generous in her praise! I was very moved and relieved. As exciting as today was, until I could share it, it was missing something. That’s just me; joy, to be really experienced, is to be shared. And I had made a new friend, Dustin, who had just graduated from law school, but is feeling the call to acting. He gave me high fives and a new friendship. Life is good!

The last moment of the day: an Extra said to me as we walked away, “Wow! You really scared me! I was sitting there [on set], and every time you came roaring out, you made me jump! Really scared me! I love that!” It’s the only career I’ve been involved in where scaring the s*** out of someone is a good thing! 

*sigh* How marvelous.

Well, 15 minutes (or 3-4 hours) of fame. And when episode 18 airs sometime in April, I’ll watch with my hands over my eyes, hoping to God that I end up on the screen instead of the cutting room floor; that I don’t look hideous (yeah, I know, I’m not supposed to care); and that the acting works. 

I have to admit something. I feel educated by this experience in a way I couldn’t have foreseen. I know how to act, so it’s not that. What it is is a personal understanding, an awareness of how much responsibility rests on us as actors when we work on film, and how precarious is that perch! In theatre, you rehearse, rehearse, rehearse, you have an opening night, and then the director goes away, leaving the show in the hands of the Stage Manager and the actors, and the show opens every night, applauded or not by the people who come to see it. It’s in your actor hands, and no one but the occasional critic and the Stage Manager can tell you that you’re not doing well enough. And unless you’re in a Broadway show where understudies are actually provided, you are probably not going to be fired for doing a less-than-good job because there’s no one there to replace you!

It’s different with film. I suddenly knew, standing there to do the first take, that if I stunk up the place and were summarily fired, there would be something like 30 or more people there to watch my humiliation. 

Ulp. 

Anyway, the day was now over. I bought – and drank some of – the champagne, to celebrate my step up. As for tomorrow, no return to 3-line stardom – at least, not that I know of (but phone lines are open!). 

Tomorrow, I’ll be transcribing. Back to the grindstone. 

But it’s all good. I’m happy now that I know that luck at least has my address in its vast Rolodex. 

***************************
www.LoriKirstein.com

An Actor’s Life; Day Four – Freezing and Fabulous

It was an accident, Officer!

Boris and Mark sacked out

Hunky fireman Dave with your friendly neighborhood Hungarian frump

Oh hell, it’s the last day for this episode’s shooting. Mixed emotions. Sorry to leave these people – like Boris and Mark and so many others – but thrilled to think about the rest and recuperation to come!

Call time: 6:00PM, and when we get there Ted tells us that the shooting is ahead of schedule! Woo-hoo! We may get out of there before 2:00AM…maybe.

Tonight there is some total lack of information, so it’s back to makeup, clothing, hanging out, and this time someone brought my favorite game: Boggle. Now we’re livin’!

While waiting, Mark asked me if I’d gotten a shot of the speedboat that caused all of the Trauma mayhem in the story, and I was psyched! I’d not gotten that shot yesterday, but today I could get it. We ran out to the huuuuuge filming area, and sure enough the speedboat was still there. The tank and external setup wasn’t, but the boat was, with debris on it and looking cool. Snapped that. Found storyboards. Snapped that.

Can’t use any of it until the show is up and long past on television, I’m thinking, but I’ll get to show ‘em off eventually. Okay, so maybe to other people it’ll just look like a picture of a boat, but I know what it is.

Anyway, after our usual overeating at lunch, we were led out to a different part of the dock and we were met by our faithful friend and P.A. Ted (P.A.? A.D.? Argh! Can’t keep it straight!!!). Our first work of the night would be as the now-just-rescued Hungarians. We were placed in different areas and given different jobs to do. And then we waited while they set up the shot.

And we waited.

And we waited.

And it was cold and it was about midnight at night, on the water. I started asking everyone who came by if I could get a blanket (don’t they put those on people who have survived emergencies, anyway?). Whether due to my carping or not (oh God, carping…didn’t intend that sideways pun), I got a blanket. And then minutes later – wonder of wonders – I was given one of those crazy emergency wrap things that is seriously thin, silver on one side and bright orange on the other, and amazing! I put that sonofagun around my shoulders and it was like I’d trapped some sunshine inside, instantly! I know it’s a small and possibly ridiculous thing to impressed by, but by midnight on the fourth night of an interrupted sleep cycle and dressed in a scarf thin dress in the middle of a windy San Francisco night by the water, I believe I’m allowed to be amazed.

Guess what I got on the seriously positive side of things? An honest-to-God fireman – and an honest-to-God hunk; his arms, my God! Check out the picture. - treating me for shock. A really cool guy, by the way, whose name is Dave and who has been studying acting on the side for the last four months. I don’t think there was a straight woman on the set who didn’t flirt with this guy; no one could help herself.

Well, as for the shot, it was a long shot done with a Steadicam. A Steadicam, technically, is the mount that is worn on the cameraman’s hips to hold the camera up. But everyone refers to both the mount and the camera as a Steadicam. What makes it unique is, to quote Wikipedia, that it “mechanically isolates the operator’s movement from the camera, allowing a very smooth shot even when the operator is moving quickly over an uneven surface”. In other words, no jiggling. Think West Wing and all of that filmed walking around they did.

We background folks are sitting, being led to sit, or being walked to an area and settled down on the ground and given one of those thin blankets I was now wearing, and all the while in the relative distance there is the fire boat from yesterday from which we have, presumably, been unloaded. Up the ramp comes a stretcher on wheels, accompanied by the two young EMT leads speaking their lines.

We did about four or five takes of this thing, and between two of them the lead woman walked back and forth a few times. She was either rehearsing lines, or talking to herself about something - I have no idea; we don’t get scripts – but one of my co-workers made a face at me as this woman walked by, and I burst out laughing. Aware, instantly, that the actress was going to assume the worst, I buried my face in my life jacket. (We were all wearing them.) When I looked up again, my friend was walking away with his head ducked away.

“Get over here!” I hissed at him. He came over and said, “She looked at you when you laughed.” “I’m sure she did!” I said, “And you walked away, you creep!” “Well, yeah,” he said, “I didn’t want her getting mad at me!”

Bastid.

Crikey, that’s Strike Two for me with this woman. Someone save me from myself! At least this one wasn’t entirely my fault!

*sigh*

We did a few more takes, and I finally was able to get over myself and get into character – tears flowing. It’s not like the camera could see me specifically or anything, but I’m not there only to bring in a few bucks; I’m practicing my craft every minute I can. No time wasted, baby.

I was really touched when between takes Mark looked at me and said, “Lori, my God! You look like your child died! You’re doing incredible work! The camera’ll never see it, but still!” The rewards are sweetest when not sought, I think.

Had a moment of in-character outrage when I suddenly keyed in to what the leads’ lines were. They were flirting, for God’s sake! We’re sitting there crying, freezing, traumatized from having nearly drowned, and the script calls for them to be flirting??? Damn! Kind of an eye-opener. How many times have I lost track of what’s happening in the background – even when it’s central to the story - in order to ogle the leads and follow what the camera wants me to follow? Hmm…interesting.

Finally we were done with that shot and were given a few moments to hit the hot coffee. We didn’t know it but the best, the most ridiculous, the coolest, and the coldest was yet to come.

At about 2:00AM, we were handed us over to another P.A. who transported us back out to the part of the dock by the party boat, telling us we’d be waiting there for a little while. We therefore assumed we’d be going back onto the boat soon. Not so! We were left in an air-exposed spot with no heat and just one piece of plastic on one side of the four-poled structure. And we were left there without information, and without our new P.A. or any way to contact him, for about 45 minutes.

This was the unfortunate point at which I began to channel my inner bitch. Anyone who got near me, I asked where our P.A. was. Anyone who got within my orbit, I asked about when they were bringing heat. When you’re over 30 – well over 30, I guess I have to say – standing on cold concrete for any significant length of time kills your lower back. I found something to sit on, and was asked not to sit there. “Find me a chair, then. I’m dying here.” It was at about this time that someone tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Uh…I guess we’re not getting back onto the party boat. It’s leaving.” Leaving?

Yep. Leaving. There it went, pulling away from the pier. Buh-bye!

Our P.A. did eventually show up and usher us back to the van; had a mistake been made? Were we going back to holding? No, but we were getting warmer now, and siting down. Thank Christ!

I think at this point pretty much everyone was pretty much over it – the whole experience. Especially those maybe 10 of us who’d been through all four days. And probably especially the crew as well, I imagine. So they we were eventually ushered down to the dock, we were numb, either through cold or emotional overload. It was like: Take us wherever, do whatever, but let’s git ‘er done, fer Chrissakes!

And then we were being loaded onto an industrial-type raft. At this point, I threw the inner bitch overboard; this was cool! Who else was up at 2:30/3:00 in the frickin’ morning riding around the Bay on police boats, huh? Loved it! Okay, time to climb on to the actual police boat, shuffle along the foot-wide side – hoping we don’t fall into the water (there’s no external-side railing, God love us) – and go to the front of the boat.

Speaking for myself, I quickly went fairly numb, so I was no longer unpleasantly cold. Besides, I was now lost in a childlike delight at the absurdity and adventure of this experience. Ten of us were on the police boat, and the other 20 were on the police fire boat, and we all drove around and around and around the party boat being filmed from God knows where. We weren’t being told when “Action” was being called – nothing.  We’re riding around, we’re pointing at the party boat (“Look, Martha! It’s sinking!”, except of course that it wasn’t really.), and then we’re – oops! – we’re driving right over one of the stern lines of the party boat. D’oh!

Close to the end, I took a look out at the expanse of the Bay. Such intense late-night darkness, such a vast sensation, and the Bay Bridge is all lit up in the near distance… It felt almost other-worldly. The sense of romance I felt in that moment was a beautiful end to a strange and wonderful week.

I know, I know, the novelty of this kind of thing wears off. I also know that some Extra work really truly sucks. I’ve been part of some of those gigs. But this was an incredible experience for me. I learned, I laughed, I made new friends, I practiced my craft, and I made enough money to pay for new headshots. Onward and upward, baby. Onward and upward.

Now I’m going to put together a party so some of us can get together and watch the episode (that’s Episode 6, sports fans!) and laugh at ourselves and our memories.

Stay tuned! I’m getting my reel and all of its composite pieces out there onto every website I can find. You can see it if you go to Youtube and type my name into the search area: Lori Kirstein. And I’ll keep working…every way I can.

And I’ll keep writing this blog because the work doesn’t stop when you’re off-stage or off-set! Far from it! So definitely stay tuned for this as well!

If you’re into learning how to act, and how to avoid some major pitfalls, you can also check out my other co-written blog – Actors Launch Pad. (www.actorslaunchpad.wordpress.com) That blog addresses actor training, and education for the actor, and parents of child actors (theatre, television and film).

Loving you madly.

Acting up,

Lori

An Actor’s Life – Day Three; Special Effects

Call time today: 5:00PM. Civilized time. Still, whole body aching from lying on the ground yesterday – hip, butt, back. Holy cannoli.

Tonight is to be water night, at least for a few special effects people.

Proof in that pudding: I walk down to Wardrobe and I see a woman wearing a fluffy bathrobe. I tell her I envy her and she wearily shakes her head. “No,” she says, “don’t envy me. I was just thrashing around in the tank and they put all kinds of nasty stuff in the water with me so it would look like it was Bay water. So…no. Don’t envy me.” After a moment of disorientation, I get it. She must be doing the stunts for the “pregnant” woman, so I ask her if she is a stunt woman and she says no, she’s a stand-in. Cool gig, but apparently not always comfy. Well, at least it was warm water. Real Bay water is freakin’ cold! (For anyone who makes the same mistake as I did before I moved here, San Francisco is not warm-as-in-hot. It’s just a heck of a lot warmer than, say, the midwest. The water, even in summer, is cold. Not chilly. Cold.)

By the time I got my lovely dress on – and the equally lovely necklace – I heard all about the filming that had been happening that afternoon before we arrived.

“Pregnant Woman” (that is: the non-actor non-Union Hungarian woman they found and fitted with a pregnancy pillow – and gave a Principle role to…waaaah, Mommy, why not me? … oh yeah, I’m not in my 30′s anymore. Right.) was trapped in a bathroom while water was pouring in from the speed boat that had wrecked into our party boat. Her husband – called “Nervous Man” in the script – had apparently been banging on the door screaming to his wife. So, what they had done was take a speed boat, build a wooden shape around it into which they fitted a bathroom door and a ship doorway – you know the kind of thing I mean – and inside the wooden shape they put a tank. Into it they dumped a bunch of nasty stuff and the only-slightly-unfortunate female stand-in. Outside the “bathroom door” they put Nervous Man. I couldn’t get close enough to see them filming because there were too many people around doing actual work, and I didn’t want to get screamed at for being in the way.

Remember, I was the furniture. Getting sniped at by one of the “stars” was something I didn’t want to repeat on any level.

When I saw the speedboat and the whole setup, however, I thought that had to be one of the coolest things I’d ever seen. It’s too bad that I didn’t have my phone with me to take any pictures. But I got some related photos later (will share those in the Day Four blog).

Well, I took myself back to Holding, and Ted – potentially the world’s most wonderful A.D. (at least I think he is an A.D. and not a P.A.; I’m still figuring that one out) - came to tell us what was up. He told us we’d go to “lunch” at 7:00, right after the crew, and then we’d go to the boat. So, this meant we’d eaten before we showed up at 5:00, got to work at 5:00, changed our clothing, went to makeup and hair (which simply means walking across the room to get into the chairs of the cool hair and makeup people), sat down with each other and gabbed. Then, after that grueling 2 hours of doing absolutely freaking nothing, we went to eat. We dutifully overate, putting additional food into the leftover boxes that are supplied at each meal, and went back to Holding. After a few more hours there, we were taken over to the party boat.

Back into the refugee Holding area. Every once in a while someone would walk downstairs, out to the steps, down to the concrete, up the uneven stairs (oh, heaven help my knees!), up the equally uneven gangplank, and across a much bigger expanse of concrete, in order to get to Craft Services, and its distractions of food and coffee and All Things Bad For You.

I can’t imagine that any of the skinny Hollywood girls ever go near Craft Services tables. Although, now that I think of it, maybe they are just better choosers than the rest of us. There are pieces of fruit there from time to time. Me, after six hours, I usually need something a little more substantial, and end up with fists full of pieces of cheese.

Great for the heart.

Anyway, for hours we sat there in Holding, and it became a terrific party for me and my new friends Boris and Mark. Boris you may remember as the guy who I will forever hear in my head saying, with his unique inflection, “Idiot!” Mark and his wife, Harriet, are starting their own production studio, and Mark is a good-natured, lovely man with an incredible sense of humor and an amazing ability to imitate people. Between crazy Boris, funny Mark, and lunatic me, we were having a great time. We welcomed a fourth – a man named Michael – to our very loud area, and spent hours talking and laughing about favorite movie moments, quotes, actors…etc., etc., etc. You can keep actors busy that way for ever.

The little actual work we did that night had to do with getting off the boat. Finally, we were to be “rescued”.

An honest-to-God San Francisco Fire Department fire boat had been brought along the port side of the party boat, and an official SF Police boat on the starboard. Oh yes; and the honest-to-God firemen and police were there too, thank you very much. No expense spared!

Now, when it comes to this particular production, there is not a whole lot of in-depth explanation given to the Extras. So a fair amount of the time it’s like this, “Okay, we’re going to go out to the boat, and it’s going to be awesome!” which is Ted’s tongue-in-cheek way of making everyone laugh because he’s serious, but he’s also revving us up to keep us happy. But that doesn’t tell you much, right?

So we get out there and we’re lined up on the first floor of the boat. Some of us are told to go right, to the police boat, and some are told to go left, to the fire boat. And for one take it’s “go this way”, and for another take it’s “go that way”. You never really know why you’re going any certain way; you’re just going. So you figure, “Hey, makes sense to me! If I’d just had an accident on a boat, I’d want to abandon ship too! I wouldn’t give a crap which way I went!” So you go. But the informational problem doesn’t really rear it’s head around which way to go. It’s more that about the fact that just before they call “Action”, Katie mentions that in this scene we are supposed to be looking into the sky while we exit because we should be pretending to see a helicopter and a man jumping from the helicopter into the Bay to rescue someone.

Now, that scene was filmed earlier, and there is no helicopter in the sky, nor anyone falling out of it, so I’m thinking that this is going to look really interesting, right?, because everyone is going to be looking in different areas when they look up, and some are even going to be smart and be pretending they’re watching the guy drop out of the chopper (no, not me; I wasn’t that smart that night). I love this. There’s an element of insanity to the whole thing that just becomes amusing if you can let go and just glide along with it. And anyway, do you usually notice the Extras in any scene on television? I mean, I do; but really, the camera’s not going to focus in on any Extras. It’s too busy focusing on the skinny blonde chick and the chiseled stud-muffin who are the leads. So what the hell’s the difference?

Well. We do our thing, and what that entails is not for people who are out of shape. Let me put it this way: when I turn left toward the Fire Boat, I see not one but four firemen helping us down into the Fire Boat. This is not an insignificant drop, guys, between the party boat and the deck of this stinkin’ Fire Boat! I’m thinking, “Oh shit, and I’m wearing frickin’ heels!” but then I put out my hands, I take a step up onto the wooden railing of the Fire Boat, and I jump down into the boat with the aid of four pairs of hands. I still land hard, but I’m proud that I can hold my own at … well … over 30 years of age.

However, my pride is short-lived. We have to go back and do it again, and going in reverse is a whole different story. I put one foot up – I have the four pairs of hands helping me – but when I try to launch myself up, it’s much farther than I anticipate, and I nearly topple back. Oh God almighty, these poor guys! They’re going to have to catch this middle-aged woman and hoist her up like a sack of potatoes! But no! I get my other foot under me, and make the jump to the party boat.

Christ, how many times am I going to have to do this???

Only once or twice more, it turns out. But that’s not really the most amazing thing.

The most amazing and, really, the stupidest thing, from a legal standpoint is that four of us are to head to the right to the Police Boat, get onto the thing, and then head up to the bow by walking along the side, making sure to hold on to the railing that is on the boat side. Do you know why we have to hold on to the railing? Because the railing is on the boat side, and not on the water side. Do you see how ridiculous this is? There is nothing – nothing – to stop one of us tired morons from losing his or her footing and toppling into the water. We are walking along an area that is only about a foot to a foot-and-a-half wide, holding onto a railing, and looking down into black water at…oh…midnight! To quote Boris: “Idiot!”

This is sheer lunacy!

And we’re loving it. Loving it!

But it is insane.

Ohmigod, where else can you play like a child and get paid for it? This is living, baby!

Only one more day and this episode’s work is behind us. How sad! But there is still one more day. Onward!

Acting up,

Lori

An Actor’s Life – Day Two; I Did a Bad, Bad Thing

The infamous schmatta dress

Showing my “wounds”

Walking Pretty Good for A Wounded Guy

I did a bad thing. I was just trying to be helpful, but…oops! (Hey, and by the way, was I wrong about the schmatta? No.)

The lead actress playing an EMT was having trouble remembering her line – hey, it happens! – and about the fourth time she asked whether one particular word was “to” or “about”, or something, I looked up at her from where I lay nearby and I said gently, helpfully, one professional to another, one woman to another, “To.”

She gave me a look and a gesture – no, not that one, but a slashing one - that froze me,  and I suddenly remembered that I was an Extra. Can you imagine how galling it must have been to be corrected by an Extra?

Oops. But really, I wasn’t trying to be a bitch! Did I deserve that? Oh well…just oops.

Yesterday was “boat accident” day. The place looked like hell! Broken 
plastic plates and pieces of food on the ground. What’s that under my
hand?! Oh…soggy cucumber. Ahhh, the glamor.

As I write this I’m well into my third night, and I’m not sure I remember my NAME, much less what we DID yesterday, but I’ll give it a go.

We’re at the main Holding area, where we sign in, pick up and don our #%+^*#  schmattas. And it’s noon. Noon call time. Sounds lush! How bad a day 
can this be?

HA!

By now we’re all just beginning to find our little groups of people that we hang with and tell stories with. And when we’re not hanging with our new best friends, we’re talking with people who are sharing stories and insider business information that you’d never gather without extensive research otherwise.

And then there’s the on-set stories. A man named Michael tells me a story about an as-yet unreleased movie (“What Just Happened“) that’s so much fun!

There were 600 Extras – that’s not a typo: 600 – and they went to film at The Kodiak Theatre. The Kodiak Theatre where the Academy Awards are given out. Can you imagine sitting there as an aspiring actor? Thank you, yes! So Michael sits down and is watching people filing in. “Shit!” he says to himself, “That dude  looks exactly like Sean Penn! Wow! How cool is that?”

Of course, it was Sean Penn. Looking right for the shot, Michael was called up to the front of  the theatre to sit right behind Sean in order to shoot a scene. He’s sitting there going, “My God! I could reach out and poke him, I’m sitting so close!” And then Michael turns to look behind him, and sees that over his left shoulder Robert DeNiro is sitting a few rows away.

Life is good.

So now they’re going to shoot an applause scene. Six hundred people applauding? No. Six hundred people  pantomiming applause. The sound is put in afterward, more often than not, when it comes to Extras, because the only people who are miked are the Principles.

So, time to pantomime. Except that only about 100 people understand the concept of pantomiming! “Cut!” Pantomiming is explained again, and now maybe 200 people get it. This process takes maybe four or five times, and finally – FINALLY – it seems that the last four clueless stragglers have come to enlightenment around this, and that this take will be the one that works. “Action!” calls the beleaguered Assistant Director.

One lone person is applauding out loud, and the entire place erupts in outrage: “Who the f*** is doing this s***?” they’re all saying.

Sean Penn is turning around going, “What the F***?”, and who is sitting back in his chair applauding with a big shit-eating grin on his face, but DeNiro.

HA! Yeah, baby! Love it! Getting a better picture of how long it takes to film just 10 seconds? Crikey. No wonder it takes millions to crank this stuff out!

***

So, filming on Day Two.

I would rather work than anything else, when it comes to acting. So when Katie comes upstairs (she’s the main A.D.) and says, “Who would like to lie on the floor?”, my hand shoots up. She looks at me dubiously – which I interpret as, “I don’t know…isn’t this going to kill you, being over 30 and all?” And she says, “Are you sure you’d like to lie down?” and I answer, “Always,” which makes her raise her eyebrows and laugh, and she finally says, “Okay, come on,” and takes about six of us downstairs to lie on the now-nasty floor.

I end up between the priest and a man with a really nasty leg gash.

The leg gash guy told us how they got the gash effect, and it’s awesome. They have a prosthetic thing that looks kind of like veal with…well…a gash in it, of course, and what they did is shave his leg, paste the thing on him, and then stick his own shaved hair on the, uh, veal. Awesome.

The other awesome thing is that because I was between the priest – who they decided should be having chest pains – and Veal Boy – who was taught how to yell “My leg is weeping,” in Hungarian (I kid you not: weeping.) and therefore upgraded, the bastid, I ended up in the shot. The young gorgeous male EMT came over to check on the priest and me, and if the Hollywood gods are in the building when they edit this thing, I will get my 1 second of TV time. It’s not that this is my greatest wish in life, you understand, but it does gain face recognition, and it makes 14 hours of torture worth it.

 ***

I killed my hip, my back and my knees lying down. Okay, so the A.D. was right. I’ll never tell her.

But I found that tears came easily to me – no, not because of the physical pain – as we did each take, because of two things: (1) I looked at the chaos around me and thought, in character, “How could this happen? This was supposed to be a beautiful wedding? How could this happen to my friends and family?” and (2) on a more personal note, I felt such a swell of love for acting in my heart, all I had to think was, “Oh, God, this is all I want to do. This is all I have ever wanted to do,” and the tears came. It was gratifying that on the first take, when the EMT came up to the priest and me, when he turned to look at me, I could see in his eyes that he was taken aback by the genuine emotion.

Heh heh heh. Didn’t think you were coming over to “treat” an actor, didja?

*sigh*

I’m insane. Always have been.

Well, that’s about all that happened on set, but off set was interesting too. They took us off the boat so they could move it forward about 25 feet, and put a police boat on the starboard side. This was supposed to take a small amount of time, but we were out there for maybe an hour to an hour and a half. My dogs were killing me – the $20 shoes they gave me to wear are horribly uncomfortable! – and I went to find a place to sit. I ended up meeting Clark Dolan, a trucker and sign painter who is making his living right now renting out his trucks for changing rooms and whatever else. He was kind enough to bring out some chairs he had stashed away, and two of us women were able to sit down. If you think this is a small thing, let me advise you differently: try standing and/or sitting on concrete for longer than 30 minutes, and it leaches all of the heat and strength from your bones. No good.

While we were talking to Clark – or, rather, Clark was talking to us, because being an on-set guy, he has tons of stories – a man walked by who I had noticed before. He’s an older man, heavy-set, with a black beret on his head. “Who is that?” I asked Clark, and he said, “Oh, that’s Tony. He’s the North Beach Teamster, and he knows everyone and everything in this town. He picks up the stars, and he takes ‘em where they want to go. He gets ‘em from the airport, and when we’re wrapped at the end of the day, if they want to go to a seedy bar, he takes ‘em there, or if they want a great meal, he call the maitre d’ and tells him to get going on a table, and boom, it happens.” I think this is extremely cool. I thought this stuff only happened in movies!

Imagine the stories this guy has to tell, that he never will.

Well, long story short, on this day everyone did their share of waiting at one time or another, and the upstairs holding area started to remind me of a refugee ship – people draped over chairs, sleeping; other people looking hang-dog; some sitting around talking quietly – an image which wasn’t hampered by the number of Hungarians and Russians among us.

In fact, our noon call time ended with a 2:00AM wrap time. One can moan about this, but in fact, after eight hours of regular pay, one gets time and a half for the next two hours, and then double time after that, so by the end of the night, those of us who are AFTRA (and get paid a bit more than non-union actors) ended up with probably a $350 paycheck (before taxes).

As John Candy once (possibly apocryphally) said, “Actors aren’t paid for acting; they’d do that for free. Actors are paid for waiting.”

Amen.

Acting up,

Lori

An Actor’s Life – Day One: Another Day At the Salt Mines

And we’re off to the races!

The casting agency gave us very precise but ultimately wrong directions to the set, so I don’t know how many people ignored the yellow sign that said “Extras Holding”, and cruised right by the sign-in area, but I am glad to report that I was not one of them.

Tried to find a place to park in the lot beside the hanger and pulled over to ask a man standing beside a truck. “Well,” he said, “this [the only expanse of cement that was empty] is where we’re going to have the two helicopters. So…park anywhere over there.”

Uh, no kidding! Nothing like trying to park on the freakin’ SET. Argh. [Turned out it wasn't the set, but still...argh, right?]

Anyway, when I left the house today, I was dressed to the nines. Even the girls were getting some air – acres of cleavage. But I found myself standing in front of one of the wardrobe women, watching her thumb through all of these frankly hideous dresses on the rack. (They think Hungarians have no taste? Really?) All I could do was pray: “Please don’t schmatta me! Please don’t schmatta me! Please don’t schmatta me!”

And she handed me a schmatta and said, “Here, try this on.”

Double argh.

I don’t look like my mother, I look like my grandmother! Aaaaagh!!!! We’re Hungarians at a wedding, and there are quite a few actual Hungarians among the Extras, trying to teach us poor Americans a few words.

***

OOH! One of the P.A.’s just told us to get ready to move out soon – that we’re going out to the boat to do a rehearsal. Neat! A small boat is crashing into a large boat, and someone will get crushed, no doubt. I just want to be there if they’re doing an actual crash.

***

Shoot! They took the wedding party and the band. I’m just a guest, so I don’t get to go yet. I wonder, did I crash this party?

***

Okay, whew, the rest of us are on our way! We’re in a van with about 6 rows of seats, and we’re riding along with the Bay on our right and the sun shining on the rippling water and we can’t wait to see the boat – how big will this be?! – and…uh…

It’s a very…um…modest…boat! Someone dares to say, albeit meekly, “It’s a…small boat.” And I say, “Yeah! I was expecting a *ship*!” and from behind me to my left I hear a male voice call out, “Idiot!” 

I’m thinking this is pretty weird – is he talking to me?! But he says, “YES!” (as in: “I know! Me too!”) ”Expecting the Hornblower, for God’s sake! Idiot!” and I realize he’s upbraiding himself. I start laughing like hell.

What the boat actually is, is a party boat. Two levels. Beautifully decorated for what is to be Hollywood’s idea of a traditional Hungarian wedding.

We get LOTS of extras who are actually Hungarians, some Russians, and people like me, to whom one of the Hungarians says earnestly: “You could totally pass as Hungarian!” Since my family’s background is Polish, Austrian and German, this comes as no surprise to me personally. It does, however, totally blow my eternally optimistic, denial-driven and internal view of myself as slim and young and American-looking. Anyway, most of these people are not crazy people who want to be actors, but are friends of crazy actors who told them about the shoot, and they decided they’d like to experience it. After hour 14 they may change their minds – as may I!

Well, Hungarian or not, our mission on this boat is to par-tee!

Within reason. The young bride and groom and their bridesmaids – again, all in traditional dress – and the groomsmen, parents and the honest-to-goodness Hungarian priest are all put in a center, circular area. The vows are finished, and we all cheer. A shoe is produced and champagne drunk from it, and we lose our minds! We all start dancing, pretty much in place.

It’s too bad that another boat will soon smash into us and the party will go straight to hell, priest or no priest!

We are going to have to pretend to be thrown when the boat hits us. This bit reminds me, inescapably, of the original Star Trek where the Bridge crew would throw themselves around after having been hit by a laser or something. And half the crew would look like they’d been hit by a warship, and the other half looked like they’d been hit by a tennis ball! Really fun.

But we all did our bit, and did it well, if the A.D. was to be believed. We were happy, anyway!

It was just such a letdown when we realized that only a very few of us would get to see the stunt people at work. There were three of them: a gorgeous man, and two equally gorgeous women – one White, one Black. We heard the crashing around from our second floor perch – our holding area while on the boat – but no peeking, dammit.

Rats.

But here is the cool thing of this first day, for me: I’m stuck behind a table, against a wall with nowhere to move. So I’m doing my version of a little middle-aged Hungarian woman dancing, and consoling myself that I’m doing a helluva job, whether I’ll be seen or not! And when we cut, and are told to head back upstairs, I follow my fellow actors out while practicing my usual thing of saying some version of thank you to any crew people I pass. This time it’s one of the cameramen;  they’re using three cameras simultaneously on these scenes, and it’s not possible to leave the set without passing one by. I salute him as I pass, smiling and saying, “Captain!”

And I get a reward. He is surprised to be acknowledged, but slowly smiles and says, “Yeah, we got a real good close-up of you!” I laugh, of course. He’s got to be kidding! But he keeps nodding – “Yeah, it was good!” – and I realize he’s serious! Ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille! (Yeah, yeah, I’d rather have that as a Principle player than as an Extra, but it never hurts to have your face out there and potentially recognizable.)

Not bad for Day One! Not bad for the middle-aged lady wearing the size 2X schmatta!

But I’m still waiting for blood!

Maybe on Day Two…

NBC’s Trauma ~ Not An Actor’s Sleeping Pill

It’s 1:30 in the morning before my first day of possibly a 4-day week on the set, and for some reason, I can’t sleep!

C’mon, people, these are 14-hour days we’re looking at! Close those eyes! Snore those snores! Rest the bones! Get ready for your close-up for Mr. DeMille!

Ahhh – that’s the problem! I’m anticipating good things!

Not bad! Maybe I’m becoming a “reverse paranoid”: believing the world is conspiring for my good!

Cool change of outlook, Lori!

You see, we’re filming on a ship today and there’s going to be a terrible accident – of course – and I’m so hopeful that they’ll choose me to hurt! Mwah-ha-ha!!! No, I’ve not gone ’round the bend. I just want to be one of those people that they put fake blood on and send the Principle players to “treat”. Oh, wait, that would mean I’d been bumped – if the Principles (the leads) treat me, I mean.

Hmmm…

Oh yeah! That’s possible!

No wonder I’m not sleeping.

But it’s going to be a long-ass day for me if I don’t get sleep. I’ve given up coffee, dammit!

Uh,,,wait a minute…I’m noticing it’s lighter out. It’s not 1:30! It’s freakin’ 6:30! Oh for Chrissakes! Now I’ve gone blind and can’t even read the clock correctly…

My mother would be so proud.

The heck with it, I’m going back to bed. I’ve got a bloody injury to get ready for.

Actor Heaven – When an Extra is Not an Extra

Bloodied Extra

Okay so I lied, but it was only to myself.

I said I wouldn’t do Extra work again, but I did, and I am so *glad* that I did!

It was on the new show, Trauma. Again. And this time I had the time of my life…after just a little tiny emotional wrinkle. No, I didn’t get to have myself artistically bloodied like the Extra in the picture above, and be wheeled screaming into the ER (sadly), but I had a dilly of a time!

We all – Extras and Crew - met up at a parking lot on Embarcadero – the large, never-ending street that runs the length of the northeast side of San Francisco – and we were bussed a few long blocks away to a swanky restaurant.

Because there is always a “holding area” for Extras – a place near the set where we wait to be chosen, like nervous young girls at a dance - we were herded upstairs to a comfy bar area with cushy chairs and an elevated table in the center with wooden bar chairs. We couldn’t help but notice that the bar was stocked, but the only waiters in the joint were actors wearing aprons, so…no sustenance there.

And in truth, we weren’t hoping for booze, but for Craft Services – translation: FOOD, and COFFEE. but it hadn’t been catered and set up yet, so to distract us, Scott broke out his Scrabble set. Scott works a lot – which means he’s actually making some ongoing money as an actor, and when he works, his Scrabble board is with him. God bless Scott. He saves the sanity of many a bored Background actor.

Finally, one of the PA’s (Production Assistant) came up, cherry-picked a few people – “I’ll take you, and you, and you…” – and took them downstairs with him. You could watch the filming from upstairs, through the mesh of the floor-to-ceiling wine racks rising from the first floor. But, honestly, there wasn’t much to see; just Extras sitting at tables miming conversation, and eating. Wait! Eating??? And we’re waiting for Crafts Services – for water, even, for Chrissakes???

Argh.

I returned to my seat and my turn at Scrabble.

When the working Extras came back up, one of the women was beaming. She had been “bumped”, which is actually a good thing; she was now a character with a name. Now she was Mrs. Someone-or-other, which means: Lines, baby! Not only that, but now she was worthy of actual personhood! The AD’s (Assistant Director) came up and introduced themselves.

When she told me the news, I did something valiant: I didn’t scream and fall down on the floor and moan in abject despair. Pretty good, I thought. Every aspiring actor, I’m fairly sure, feels that if they can just get noticed, the world will have to see how worthy of work they are, and they’ll be on their way!

*sigh*

Oh well, not to worry! The next scene was mine! “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride”, was over. In the direct line of the camera – whoopee! – I was seated with a woman who could pass for my sister, and a good-looking, bald, naughty young man.

The three of us instantly went “Jerry Springer” on our back story. I mean, we had to have a reason for being in that restaurant together, right? So what was it? Well, we decided it was this:

He is married to my daughter but having an affair with me – he’s into the whole cougar thing (where does that expression come from anyway?). Meanwhile, he’s also having an affair with my sister, unbeknownst to me.

Well, that story wasn’t complete enough. Why were we having lunch together? My young lover said that we were going to get liquored up and he was going to suggest a ménage a trois! Well, I had to put my foot down – I wasn’t going to have sex with my sister! Ick! I would, however, go for the drinking. I would have four margaritas, I told him. How many would he like? He said, “I want to drink until I’m naked.” I love working with naughty young men!

The director called, “Background, action!” and we toasted one another and talked and laughed, all in pantomime. And I got my moment of recognition. The primary AD came over and adjusted my seat so I would face the camera more directly. She said to me, “You look great! You’re really animated!” this is high praise, trust me! Extras are furniture. Do you talk to your furniture?

And cherry-on-top, one of the other Extras very generously told me later that she had noticed me too, and loved what I was doing. See? I will TOO be famous!

After “my” big scene, we trundled back upstairs where our PA for the day – an amazing man named Lamar Stewart – corralled about 10 of us and took us onto a van to take us to the next location, a mansion.

This sounds pretty cool, right? Well, the 10 minute ride across the city became a 60 minute ride! The driver did not know where she was going, but was too proud to say so. We went in circles, we doubled back, we went the wrong way up a one-way street! The other PA sitting in the back of the bus was waaay too patient, only once asking her if we needed to phone for directions. She said, “Oh, no, the street is just two streets up this way!” We were then in the van for yet another 20 minutes.

As for me, San Francisco is a mystery to me, so I had no way of knowing when we’d gone in circles or upside or upside down or whatever! But I know that it doesn’t take an hour to go from one Embracadero to where we ended up. Not even close. And later, at 3:00, when we went to lunch, the driver almost passed the lunch area by! She couldn’t have been friendlier, but we really had to wonder if we would ever see our cars again, when she picked us up at the end of the day to return us to the parking lot.

So here we were at the mansion! How cool! …well, not entirely. We were stashed in the basement while all of the action was taking place upstairs on the front porch. But wait! Lamar the Production Assistant to the rescue! He came in to see if we had everything we needed down there, and took up a stance behind a podium and pronounced himself “Reverend Lamar”, preaching the Gospel of Lamar, and keeping us entertained. More than the entertainment, being recognized as human beings and actors is better than gold.

Our big scene involved walking up and down the street while the ambulance pulled up, good-looking men got out and went up the stairs to talk to some elderly women, and then…cut!

This really tests your acting chops…not! But one man, positioned 10 feet in front of me, made the whole afternoon worth it when after one take he stopped walking, turned to me with an intense actor look on his face, and said, “I gave it my all.”

I about fell down laughing.

So, when is an Extra not an Extra? The easy answer is “always”. We’re all actors. The more in-depth answer comes from the people I met that day: One man named Paul Simon who has been a Principle player on Law & Order several times; a woman who is a headshot photographer (I didn’t get her name); a woman named Elaine who was just getting back into acting after a long hiatus; another woman named Ericka who kept everyone laughing and happy wherever she was.

It takes stamina – shoots usually run 12-14 hours – and good humor and talent to be an Extra. And if someone like Paul, with his Principle parts on Law & Order (which I would sell a few eye-teeth to be on – any of ‘em!), can happily be an Extra (which he does in order to be living in this area with his son), well hell’s bells, Maude, so can I!

I just still don’t know if I can mention any of it on my resume!!!

Acting up,

Lori

An Actor’s Life: Approaching Famous? (The Life of the Extra)

Well, I’ve done it now! I’ve gone and been an actor on an NBC set!

It’s impressive – really impressive! The set is a hospital, and it is a hospital…inside. Walk off set and behind is all boards, and you’d never know that when you walk inside you are going to see what you see! In the Emergency Room Bay is a cop car and an ambulance, and further off at a distance is a helicopter, sans blades.

L.A. has come back to San Francisco! The last time L.A. was here in a big way was when Nash Bridges was filmed here. But now we have Trauma!

You’ll see it on TV in September. You’ll see it soon, but if you see me, it will be a half-glimpse, if you even notice.

And such is the life – most often – of the Extra.

We are called Extras or, collectively, Background, and we are carefully chosen yet completely replaceable puzzle pieces used to flesh out a scene that is carried by the “Principles”, which are the main actors. We are, I must say, just a bit like cattle as we go through our day. We are kept in a “holding area” until needed, which can be at any moment, so for God’s sake don’t be in the bathroom when the PA – the Production Assistant – runs unannounced into the room with his hair on fire (fire provided by the AD – the Assistant Director) shouting, “I’ll take you…and you…and you. Follow me, please!” and walks at a run with everyone scampering along behind!

Then you are placed on set by an AD (there can be more than one) wherever you are needed, and told what to do…or not to do.

And as for eating, we eat last. Dead last. It’s okay; it doesn’t take long at all, but when lunch is called, prepare for a wait while everyone else goes through the line.

If you are an Extra, be prepared to wait for more than just lunch. Like yesterday! My call time – the time I was expected to be at the specified meeting place – was 6AM. Ouch! But hey, it’s acting. For acting, I’d be up for 24 hours or more! So, fine: 6AM. I was in the first group called to go on set to do a scene. I was given a TV husband, and off we went to the races. It was great fun! And it was great fun for the hour and a half or two that we worked. And then, for the rest of the day, I sat. And sat. And sat.

Some of us read. Some of us did crosswords. I knitted, I played Scrabble with other actors, I checked my email, I knitted some more.

And it finally dawned on me that I wasn’t going to be working again that day. That fact was…disappointing, to say the very least. I talked about it with some of the others, who seemed far more resigned than I felt, at least; in a small snit, I said to myself, “Well, fine, I’m not going to be used! I’ll just go outside where there’s better reception and check my emails! Never mind!”

Are you ahead of me on this one? When I came back in 10 minutes later, everyone I’d been nattering at had been taken on set to work!

After a few minutes of berating myself, I decided to make better use of my time and see if there was a place from which I could watch the filming. There was! I and a few others – actors and non-actors – watched from behind some of the glass doors as a scene was filmed over and over again, with the director striding around making changes, or yelling directions while the action was going on. It turns out that unless the principle actors are talking, everything that is happening on set is going to be replaced by sound people anyway!

Far out! I loved it. And when we Extras were on set, we spoke without making any sound. If you typed on a computer, you did it soundlessly. Again, far out!

I don’t know about you, but I absolutely love the behind-the-scenes thing. Love it!

So, famous? Not yet. But entertained, and enlightened, and educated? Um…and with another credit on my acting resume? You betcha!

It was a 15-hour day. Oddly, I wasn’t tired at the end of it. Not a bit. And I considered it a really successful day. True, I hadn’t been “bumped” – which means you become a Day Player (someone who gets to say a few words), or better, a Featured Player (someone with lines; but who is not a Principle player). Every Extra prays to be bumped. I believe someone was in fact bumped yesterday, but I never found out who or how. I do know that it wasn’t me.

But that’s okay.

I learned a lot about the business. I had the opportunity to work alongside some other good actors. I can now say I worked with Jamey Sheridan, who I remember from Law and Order: CI (even though I didn’t work directly with him, that sounds good, doesn’t it?). I worked for money in my own craft! YAY!

As an actor, there is almost nothing better than working at your craft for money. When your creativity is paid for, suddenly you don’t need to defend your life choices. No one is going to say, “Why can’t you be practical, you daft fool?” Most importantly, you are not going to say it to yourself.

You have jumped that vast divide from impractical fool to paid actor, and no one can fault you now for your passion. What an incredible relief!

Okay, so I jumped it for a day, but I haven’t told you about my Comcast commercial last week! …However, that’s for another blog.