41 Days

Booking Rate: 66.6repeating% (This percentage will never be this high again)

Blog to be read to Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus.

I've been in LA for 41 days.
It's been 41 days since I packed everything I owned in a borrowed PT Cruiser and trekked the 300+ miles from foggy San Francisco to smoggy LA.

I couldn't figure out which phrase I wanted to lead with, so I decided to write both. Either way, life has carried on for (as of recent) 27 years, and I have finally managed to muster enough gumption or gall or courage or crazy (some combination of the four) in an attempt to be seen on movie screens or TV or computer (again, combination would be fine). Sounds kinda narcissistic. Well, brace yourself, it'll only get worse.

A List of General Items:
1.  Spliced together a Commercial Reel
2.  Spliced together a Film Reel
3.  Built a website
4.  Missed family Christmas
5.  2 Commercial Auditions
6.  1 Theatre Audition
6b. 1 Short Film Audition
7.  Got a waiting job
8.  Turned down a teaching job in West Africa
9.  Been on some dates
10.  Said goodbye to my mid twenties
11.  Turned down a short film in SF
12.  Got naked in front of a photographer
13.  Tested negative for HIV
14.  Broke my middle toe on my left foot

General Comments on General Items:

1-3.  This was by far my greatest accomplishment of the 41 days.  I had a ton of footage for projects in SF and I finally figured out how to put it all in one place.  Special shout out to wix.com Spotify commercials...I fell victim to your advertising.  Thanks to all those who painstaking kindly sifted through all of my photos and videos to help me choose the best of the best.

4.  This one hurt.  Although, spending Christmas in sunny Carlsbad was grand, nothing beats home for the holidays.  I convinced myself I was fine with my decision to stay in LA for the duration of the holidays.  Rephrase:  I stood in front of a mirror and had a conversation with myself and my reflection (and yes, of course, my reflection has a british accent).  I told myself I was fine.  I was fine.  I was totally not fine.  My family chose not to reach out and communicate with me Christmas Eve and throughout most of Christmas day (the jury is still hung on whether or not this was a malicious act).  I'm just being a brat and trying to push the victim card.  I made the choice not to come home.  I'm the idiot.

5.  These auditions felt the same from ones in SF.  Enter audition space. Stand here.  Slate here.  Pretend the camera is the girl.  Go.  Great.  Now some improv.  Go.  Great.  Take care.  We will let you know (They only let you know if you got the part.  Unlike an STD screen, no news is bad news).  HOWEVER:  The second audition was a little different.  This production team signed up for an audition studio space with CAZT.com.  CAZT is a casting service (like LA or SF casting) that posts projects, allows actors to build profiles, etc.  In addition to these services, the casting directors of these auditions are required to post videos of the auditions (to be seen with a monthly fee ...and I'm poor, so I won't be seeing these for awhile) and write comments.

My first comment:  Line delivery was brilliant. Very funny all around. Great nervous energy leading up to the line.

Not much, but it's much better than "he sucked."

I booked both commercials!

6.  Reminded me of Left Coast Theatre Company... that's all.

6b.  I didn't book it.  I actually forgot it existed until I checked my rejection rate.

7.  Restaurant is called Manchego.  It's in Santa Monica.  Delicious tapas and Spanish wine.  Yum.

8.  On my drive down to LA, I received an email from a woman on linkedin.  She got my information from blah...blah...blah.  She offered me a position to teach in West Africa.  Of course.  The moment I decide to pack up and fully charge at the biggest challenge of my life, an opportunity like this pops up.  It couldn't have popped up a year earlier when I was trying to decide whether or not to give up on applying to "normal people" jobs...noooo.  That would have been too easy.  Life throws curve balls.  Then I remembered how I got malaria, twice.  I let the pitch hit the catcher's glove.  (did I really just use a baseball reference)

9.  Tinder, you beast.

10.  27.  Yikes.  Didn't see that one coming.  I'll just ignore it.

11.  Booked an awesome short film gig in SF.  Timing is off.  Wish I could have done it.  If I was still in my mid twenties, I would have done it #agingisabitch.

12.  Yeah, this kinda was an accident.  Submitted to a Greek God themed photo shoot.  Photographer was young, talented, and the Art Director for many youtube music videos you have seen.  I smelled a good opportunity.  I warned him my body was not as muscly as the ones in many of his shoots (b/c I did my research).  He asked to do a test shoot.  I showed up at his apartment/studio the next morning at 10 am.  By 10:45 am I was baby oiled up (the smell was quite nice) and stripped down to nothing posing for suggestive nudes.  Will this come back to haunt me?  Maybe.  Was it a learning moment?  Yes.  Will I ever do it again?  Probably (fool me once, I can be fooled again) not.  Wrecking ball entrance, Go.

13.  Woot woot!  Get tested.

14.  Three words:  Wine, dancing, boys.  No, Natasha, you wouldn't have wanted to join.  This party ended in a purple toe.  Well, the toe turned purple a day later.  I strike my earlier statement.  Natasha, you would have wanted to join.

Over and out.


This will only get crazier.