i'm too busy prepping for auditions and hustling for gigs this weekend to blog anything worthwhile today. the weather is crummy. i have no endurance in boxing conditioning class and i'm hoping running will fix that. i'm still decluttering and editing my closets and scouring everything and eating clean. i'm diligently practicing the ukulele, mostly because it's fun. it's time for a guitar lesson from kelvyn bell. it's time to get recalibrated. yes, my plate is full.
whenever i'm especially busy, i always think of this porky pig cartoon porky's bear facts with it's sing-a-long song working can wait. when i first came to the city and no one would give me a job, i gave myself a job and hustled until i had gigs singing in bars and restaurants almost every night of the week. my brother ramon (who was touring back and forth with ronald shannon jackson at the time) and i used to sit around the harlem apartment we shared and sing this -- sarcastically, of course. I was half-killing myself, I was working so hard.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Friday, March 22, 2013
Saturday, February 05, 2011
busy signals
up to my neck in rewrites, lyrics, rehearsals, boxing conditioning sessions and editing work. and of course, the spring cleaning never ends. the rpm challenge awaits me. i've got some good ideas. blah, blah, blah.
everything is working itself out, though. i can't remember the last time i practiced the piano -- and out of nowhere, i almost threw away the phone number for a piano teacher i found on craigslist.
everything is working itself out, though. i can't remember the last time i practiced the piano -- and out of nowhere, i almost threw away the phone number for a piano teacher i found on craigslist.
Friday, June 18, 2010
the things i'm going to miss
i'm going to miss boxing class today and all the stuff that goes with it -- the run that happens when i come out of the room and the steam/sauna that happens after that. but mostly sparring with my instructor and pounding that bag.
i'm going to miss that long and arduous bike ride up and down the west side highway's bike lane, because i've got so much crap to do that only a fast-moving train will accommodate me.
i'm going to miss sleeping in and daydreaming and chugging water mindlessly and yes, i will miss my guitar.
i am in audition and callback purgatory. that means everything and nothing. it's like chasing a shadow in the midst of a fog that disappears as suddenly as it arrives. even if you get whatever it is, there's always the possibility that it can slip through your fingers like a vapor. they can edit your character out of the scene or even the entire episode. they can call you back ten times and then not give it to you. or they can go in another direction after you're absolutely certain that it's yours. (that one is my personal favorite - it's such a great way to say "we don't want you.")
and yet, i jump through those hoops.
it's a full time job, to stay in a constant state of readiness. more and more, it feels like that's a battle that i'm winning. probably because i'm into boxing and it's fun, and i'm getting my body back. once i get the gig in question, the work is fun, too. getting lost in that process, growing into a character, shooting ideas into the air and trying new things. that's too much fun.
no -- the audition is where the fun stops. the audition is the work. it is punishing, it is backbreaking, it is unforgiving. sometimes i'm good at it. (i think.)
i've got to stick to my routine in my downtime. (stick and move, stick and move...) tom petty was right. the waiting is the hardest part.
i'm going to miss that long and arduous bike ride up and down the west side highway's bike lane, because i've got so much crap to do that only a fast-moving train will accommodate me.
i'm going to miss sleeping in and daydreaming and chugging water mindlessly and yes, i will miss my guitar.
i am in audition and callback purgatory. that means everything and nothing. it's like chasing a shadow in the midst of a fog that disappears as suddenly as it arrives. even if you get whatever it is, there's always the possibility that it can slip through your fingers like a vapor. they can edit your character out of the scene or even the entire episode. they can call you back ten times and then not give it to you. or they can go in another direction after you're absolutely certain that it's yours. (that one is my personal favorite - it's such a great way to say "we don't want you.")
and yet, i jump through those hoops.
it's a full time job, to stay in a constant state of readiness. more and more, it feels like that's a battle that i'm winning. probably because i'm into boxing and it's fun, and i'm getting my body back. once i get the gig in question, the work is fun, too. getting lost in that process, growing into a character, shooting ideas into the air and trying new things. that's too much fun.
no -- the audition is where the fun stops. the audition is the work. it is punishing, it is backbreaking, it is unforgiving. sometimes i'm good at it. (i think.)
i've got to stick to my routine in my downtime. (stick and move, stick and move...) tom petty was right. the waiting is the hardest part.
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
a day in the life of queen esther
wake up early. too early.
realize that you're not ready for your 10:20am audition because you haven't learned the original song they sent you. no, they didn't send the actual song. they sent sheet music. and you know what that means. it means that you have to find the song on iTunes, and if it doesn't sync with what's on paper, you have to find a pianist to play through the song so you can record it and obsess over it for nearly a week until you know it well enough to give some semblance of a performance when you go into that audition room and face most of the production team. not a "sing your way through this" kind of a deal. i mean, nail it to the wall. perform.
thinking about this exhausts you so much that you immediately go back to bed. and thinking of standing in front of that long table freaks you out so totally, you can't go back to sleep. so you lie there and stare at the ceiling and try to remember the melody of the song, to somehow reassure yourself that you've got some of it marinating in your head. but the only thing that comes floating back to you is the last song you had to learn overnight. it's called how blessed we are from the musical big river: the adventures of huckleberry finn. and once it comes back, it stays.
this is the start of your day. fun, right?
when you finally crawl out of bed, you are more than relieved that you popped a zantac before you went to bed because you ate something before you abrubtly fell out. simply put, acid reflux is a bitch. nevermind what you're supposed to eat. none of that really matters. not with you, anyway.
by 9:30am, you run out of the house like your butt is on fire - with the wrong address. once you actually get there, they've been alerted and all is forgiven. you go into the room and give one of the best auditions you've ever squeezed out of yourself, ever. everyone is smiling and warm and glowy. it feels like an amazing first date.
and to think - they were actually expecting queen esther marrow.
you run out, get time sheets, run to the bank, deposit money, run out of the bank, find a mailbox and mail stuff, run to drop off the time sheets. somewhere in all that running, your commercial agent calls. you've got an audition in the flatiron district for a lowe's spot. you stop and ask: what about the one i thought i missed yesterday, the pizza hut spot? they put you on hold, pop back on the line after a brief pause and say, you can go in for it but you have to go before 12:45pm. that means you drop everything and go now. everything is your new boxing gloves. you're annoyed that you're going to miss your 12:30pm kickboxing class but a national commercial is at stake. you very quickly get over it.
you zip over to chelsea from columbus circle, you do the deed. you go home and change clothes because you need casual attire for the lowe's spot and you know the wrap dress you're wearing just won't cut it.
when you come out of the subway, you buy a gigantic melon in the street from some mild-mannered dominicans. and it's so supercheap, you smile all the way home. you turn on the soaps while you check your makeup and change your clothes and slice that melon and shove it in the fridge to chill. you leave your place in a t-shirt and blue jean skirt. you think to yourself, yeah, i look like i'm married and shopping for stainmaster carpet. as you're running down the street in the flatiron district, looking for the address, you run into chris. he comes to the audition with you and afterwards, he takes you to lunch at la petit abielle. a really terrific salmon salad, actually. you have a wonderful conversation. as it turns out, chris used to box as a kid. you show him your boxing gloves. he laughs at your pink hand wraps. we take the 1 uptown - you jump off at 50th and hit the gym. he goes to catch up with a friend for the museum mile festival, which sounded like way too much fun.
after the gym - which did not include boxing conditioning class, and that makes you feel cheated, somehow - you could go run around but you'd rather go home. because you haven't touched your guitar what feels like forever, you've got rewrites to deal with and yes, you are officially in preproduction on something else. besides -- it's taco night.
the end -- more or less.
oh. here's that song that you couldn't stop singing all day long, from that musical you weren't auditioning for, as sung by jennifer leigh warren, for those of you keeping score at home. enjoy the money note!
realize that you're not ready for your 10:20am audition because you haven't learned the original song they sent you. no, they didn't send the actual song. they sent sheet music. and you know what that means. it means that you have to find the song on iTunes, and if it doesn't sync with what's on paper, you have to find a pianist to play through the song so you can record it and obsess over it for nearly a week until you know it well enough to give some semblance of a performance when you go into that audition room and face most of the production team. not a "sing your way through this" kind of a deal. i mean, nail it to the wall. perform.
thinking about this exhausts you so much that you immediately go back to bed. and thinking of standing in front of that long table freaks you out so totally, you can't go back to sleep. so you lie there and stare at the ceiling and try to remember the melody of the song, to somehow reassure yourself that you've got some of it marinating in your head. but the only thing that comes floating back to you is the last song you had to learn overnight. it's called how blessed we are from the musical big river: the adventures of huckleberry finn. and once it comes back, it stays.
this is the start of your day. fun, right?
when you finally crawl out of bed, you are more than relieved that you popped a zantac before you went to bed because you ate something before you abrubtly fell out. simply put, acid reflux is a bitch. nevermind what you're supposed to eat. none of that really matters. not with you, anyway.
by 9:30am, you run out of the house like your butt is on fire - with the wrong address. once you actually get there, they've been alerted and all is forgiven. you go into the room and give one of the best auditions you've ever squeezed out of yourself, ever. everyone is smiling and warm and glowy. it feels like an amazing first date.
and to think - they were actually expecting queen esther marrow.
you run out, get time sheets, run to the bank, deposit money, run out of the bank, find a mailbox and mail stuff, run to drop off the time sheets. somewhere in all that running, your commercial agent calls. you've got an audition in the flatiron district for a lowe's spot. you stop and ask: what about the one i thought i missed yesterday, the pizza hut spot? they put you on hold, pop back on the line after a brief pause and say, you can go in for it but you have to go before 12:45pm. that means you drop everything and go now. everything is your new boxing gloves. you're annoyed that you're going to miss your 12:30pm kickboxing class but a national commercial is at stake. you very quickly get over it.
you zip over to chelsea from columbus circle, you do the deed. you go home and change clothes because you need casual attire for the lowe's spot and you know the wrap dress you're wearing just won't cut it.
when you come out of the subway, you buy a gigantic melon in the street from some mild-mannered dominicans. and it's so supercheap, you smile all the way home. you turn on the soaps while you check your makeup and change your clothes and slice that melon and shove it in the fridge to chill. you leave your place in a t-shirt and blue jean skirt. you think to yourself, yeah, i look like i'm married and shopping for stainmaster carpet. as you're running down the street in the flatiron district, looking for the address, you run into chris. he comes to the audition with you and afterwards, he takes you to lunch at la petit abielle. a really terrific salmon salad, actually. you have a wonderful conversation. as it turns out, chris used to box as a kid. you show him your boxing gloves. he laughs at your pink hand wraps. we take the 1 uptown - you jump off at 50th and hit the gym. he goes to catch up with a friend for the museum mile festival, which sounded like way too much fun.
after the gym - which did not include boxing conditioning class, and that makes you feel cheated, somehow - you could go run around but you'd rather go home. because you haven't touched your guitar what feels like forever, you've got rewrites to deal with and yes, you are officially in preproduction on something else. besides -- it's taco night.
the end -- more or less.
oh. here's that song that you couldn't stop singing all day long, from that musical you weren't auditioning for, as sung by jennifer leigh warren, for those of you keeping score at home. enjoy the money note!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
another day, another list
when i said most actors have to do more than one thing well to make a living, i meant it. you don't even want to get into what i've done already, so here's a list of all the stuff i do currently. where's y0urs?
- Freelance writer
- Producer
- Voiceover artist (commercial, animation)
- Solo performer
- Teacher/kiddie wrangler
- Proofreader
- Librettist
- Vocal teacher/coach
- Medical narrator
- Lyricist
- Blues singer
- Playwright
- Cabaret performer
- Medical copy editor
- Copy editor
- Essayist
- Musical theater performer
- Actor (theater/film/tv/commercials)
- Writer
- Jazz singer
- Performance artist
- Torch singer
- Songwriter
- Jingle singer
Thursday, June 12, 2008
all in a day's work
housework (that daily constant), a commercial audition (in chelsea), two voiceover auditions (from home), a full workout that includes a boxing conditioning class (in soho), a piano lesson uptown (and yes, piano practice for at least an hour) and round 2 of the jazzmobile jazz vocal competition this evening at the alhambra ballroom (in harlem), with all the getting ready prepwork that goes with any gig.
still don't think i do anything all day?
still don't think i do anything all day?
Saturday, June 07, 2008
home away from home
when my friend realized that it was going to hit at least 90 degrees today, he made a point of putting in the AC unit that the window installers removed -- sooner rather than later, so that when we came home, we could sit in the coolness and not melt. such creature comforts are priceless in the city, especially when you don't have a lot of money and the weather turns nasty, like it did today. by midday, everyone was sweating so much in the street as they moved past us, they looked like they were made of wax and melting constantly without dissolving into the sidewalk.
its days like these that make you want to leave home for the enviorns of what can only be described as your home away from home: a place that's comfortable and relaxed, where someone is friendly enough to guide you through the pesky details of whatever's on the menu that's special and interesting and unknown, a place that you long to get to, like you long for your couch at the end of a workday. my friend, a former bartender/bar manager, doesn't like bars. tonight, we found one we both want to live in.
when you work hard, you have to make sure that you have enough fun to balance all of it out, or you burn out and out goes the cool city life you thought you were having. in these moments, your fun must be planned. i don't mind being "julie the cruise director" if it gets me the results i want. and to tell you the truth, it was a long beautiful nearly perfect summer day away from the sanctity of my couch: the jeff koons exhibit on the roof of the met museum for one; walking down 5th avenue with my friend as he ate a colorful sno-cone and reminisced about his jersey childhood; dinner later with friends -- and then dessert at tailor's in soho. i went there so we could try the absinthe gummi bears with espresso (my friend's eyebrows went up and basically stayed up when i told him about them), but we stayed for so much more. we realized that although the food was experimental, the bar downstairs was cozy enough to belong to us. i think we've found a home away from home.
its days like these that make you want to leave home for the enviorns of what can only be described as your home away from home: a place that's comfortable and relaxed, where someone is friendly enough to guide you through the pesky details of whatever's on the menu that's special and interesting and unknown, a place that you long to get to, like you long for your couch at the end of a workday. my friend, a former bartender/bar manager, doesn't like bars. tonight, we found one we both want to live in.
when you work hard, you have to make sure that you have enough fun to balance all of it out, or you burn out and out goes the cool city life you thought you were having. in these moments, your fun must be planned. i don't mind being "julie the cruise director" if it gets me the results i want. and to tell you the truth, it was a long beautiful nearly perfect summer day away from the sanctity of my couch: the jeff koons exhibit on the roof of the met museum for one; walking down 5th avenue with my friend as he ate a colorful sno-cone and reminisced about his jersey childhood; dinner later with friends -- and then dessert at tailor's in soho. i went there so we could try the absinthe gummi bears with espresso (my friend's eyebrows went up and basically stayed up when i told him about them), but we stayed for so much more. we realized that although the food was experimental, the bar downstairs was cozy enough to belong to us. i think we've found a home away from home.
Friday, June 06, 2008
getting out of the house
with a nice cushy loveseat, cable/internet and guitars, and lots of voiceover work/auditions online, it's hard to get out of the house these days -- and with a piano teacher on the first floor, it's even harder to leave the building. i know when i wake up that if i don't leave my place before noon, i won't leave at all. for some strange reason, there's always something to do here. practicing the piano can take all afternoon.
on a good day, there's no freelancing. i'll hit the gym and go to work, making art. i know i'm making progress because the guitar is getting easier, the piano is starting to make more sense, i'm writing better songs and i'm getting leaner and stronger. i'm going to give myself until the end of the summer to hit pay dirt: a better left hand with my piano playing, a better right hand with my guitar playing, 50 new songs and a perfect fit in those corseted jeans i just bought last weekend.
in the meantime, talk about getting out of the house: i've got a gig with jc hopkins' biggish band tonight in prospect park tonight and then there's miona's birthday party in soho. tomorrow, there's chris' birthday party at a spot on indian row in the lower east side and then an art opening in billyburg. and of course, there's a picnic with the dreamland orchestra on governor's island on sunday afternoon for a jazz age lawn party: everyone on the swing scene decked out in vintage clothing from the 20s, a vintage fashion show/swimsuit contest, cars on display, a DJ and a parquet floor for dancing, and more.
okay, maybe i am getting out of the house. but don't let the busy weekend fool you -- i'm definitely hibernating.
on a good day, there's no freelancing. i'll hit the gym and go to work, making art. i know i'm making progress because the guitar is getting easier, the piano is starting to make more sense, i'm writing better songs and i'm getting leaner and stronger. i'm going to give myself until the end of the summer to hit pay dirt: a better left hand with my piano playing, a better right hand with my guitar playing, 50 new songs and a perfect fit in those corseted jeans i just bought last weekend.
in the meantime, talk about getting out of the house: i've got a gig with jc hopkins' biggish band tonight in prospect park tonight and then there's miona's birthday party in soho. tomorrow, there's chris' birthday party at a spot on indian row in the lower east side and then an art opening in billyburg. and of course, there's a picnic with the dreamland orchestra on governor's island on sunday afternoon for a jazz age lawn party: everyone on the swing scene decked out in vintage clothing from the 20s, a vintage fashion show/swimsuit contest, cars on display, a DJ and a parquet floor for dancing, and more.
okay, maybe i am getting out of the house. but don't let the busy weekend fool you -- i'm definitely hibernating.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
it's all about "quality of life"...
when i don't have a day job, my life is so together.
i throw things away and i sort through reciepts and i streamline everything. i get really, really, really organized. i stick to a budget that's realistic and sensible. i keep a really clean apartment, because coming home to a clean place just plain ol' feels good. i have no idea why. it just does. (try it.) when a situation turns foul, home becomes a beautiful sanctuary. and there are other perks, too. i practice the piano when i wake up in the morning. i download a movie via netflix in the middle of the day. i work on my songs. i audition like crazy.
what's really bizarre is, i look great because i start almost every day with a solid work out -- and when the weather turns nice, i ride my bike everywhere. that means i stay lanky in this really righteous healthy vibrant way that makes everyone think that i'm in love or something. and i am. but that's not it, that's not why i'm glowing. i'm glowing because after the work out, i sit in that steam room until my skin turns to butter and my muscles stop going boing! i'm glowing because i always moisturize. i'm glowing because i have pre-paid facials in k-town. i'm glowing because i exfoliate every week. the kicker is, i end up wearing all the cool clothes in my closet -- fat, skinny and otherwise. every season, i tell myself wow -- i don't need new clothes. i need to stay a size 4/6.
i'm not lanky yet. i'm still shedding that desk job lard. but it is coming off, finally. and as i'm watching my midsection disappear, i realize three things:
okay. back to my guitar, another pot of lapsang souchong and adult swim.
i throw things away and i sort through reciepts and i streamline everything. i get really, really, really organized. i stick to a budget that's realistic and sensible. i keep a really clean apartment, because coming home to a clean place just plain ol' feels good. i have no idea why. it just does. (try it.) when a situation turns foul, home becomes a beautiful sanctuary. and there are other perks, too. i practice the piano when i wake up in the morning. i download a movie via netflix in the middle of the day. i work on my songs. i audition like crazy.
what's really bizarre is, i look great because i start almost every day with a solid work out -- and when the weather turns nice, i ride my bike everywhere. that means i stay lanky in this really righteous healthy vibrant way that makes everyone think that i'm in love or something. and i am. but that's not it, that's not why i'm glowing. i'm glowing because after the work out, i sit in that steam room until my skin turns to butter and my muscles stop going boing! i'm glowing because i always moisturize. i'm glowing because i have pre-paid facials in k-town. i'm glowing because i exfoliate every week. the kicker is, i end up wearing all the cool clothes in my closet -- fat, skinny and otherwise. every season, i tell myself wow -- i don't need new clothes. i need to stay a size 4/6.
i'm not lanky yet. i'm still shedding that desk job lard. but it is coming off, finally. and as i'm watching my midsection disappear, i realize three things:
- why should i strap myself to a desk job? i've already got health insurance with SAG and AEA says i'm vested with a pension. let's face it -- those stats make me a working actor in anybody's book. the freelance income is just another hustle. and as i've stated previously, everyday i really am hustling...
- surprise! if you're a medical copy editor, freelance work pays better than a staff position. funny thing: when i had a job, all the freelancers that would come in told me so. even my supervisor told me so! eventually, i got the hint.
- sure, i miss the steady paycheck -- but losing this weight is a good thing. when i had a day job, there was no time for the gym. and if there was time, i was too tired to go.
okay. back to my guitar, another pot of lapsang souchong and adult swim.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
if this doesn't sum it up, i don't know what does
this is a spoof of monster.com's "when i grow up, i want to be a..." campaign that was used at the ADDYs last year/some time ago/i don't know when. since then, no one wants anyone to see it, because it's funny and cynical and blisteringly true -- so of course that means it's gone viral and everyone is seeing it online.
i work at an ad agency and it's a little wierd how dead on this stuff is.
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