Can’t seem to sleep. Brain’s still too active – it’s crackling, like a slow-burning log on the fireplace. Can’t sleep until it’s out. Been a few high-energy days in a row, and I guess it’s taking a while to calm down today. Figured I might as well blog until I start to ember.

I think one of my next projects is to put together my acting resume and get some headshots. I really think I need more of this acting stuff in my life, and it’d be great to do it for a real audience and maybe even not have to pay for it. The classes are great, for sure, but they’re a) expensive; and b) exclusive – as in I can’t invite friends into the audience. I’d love to be in something that people can actually come see. So I’m going to get headshots, a resume, and start auditioning.


Comedy hasn’t fizzled out completely, just been stoking the actor fires a little more frequently. Although I did think of a new bit today in the gym. Gotta work on that one before I forget it. Could add to the five or so minutes I’ve already got, then tighten up the whole thing & make it my first set. That, my friends, could happen this summer. THIS SUMMER.


I would love to go back to my ten year reunion & say I’m married, live in San Francisco, am gainfully employed, am acting, AND am doing a stand-up routine. That would be a proud day for me; I don’t care how good Hylton’s soccer career is going, I’ll still be proud.

Hylton. Hmmph. I’m interested to see where he ended up. Big heart he had. Even bigger brain. His ego was rumored to match, though I can’t say I ever saw much evidence of that. But if that’s what he had going for him, I hope he put it to good use. Either to good use, or to pursue what made him happy, which, apparently, may have been farming, soccer, and lots of Bibles. I’ll bet the bookshelf in his bedroom has at least three versions of the Bible on it. He’s probably only read two.

OH! So this one dude in my acting class completely blew off his final scene & his scene partner. He gets the Douche Bag of the Month Award. Let’s call him Douchey Le Dickbag. Mr. Le Dickbag waited until the first week after scenes had been assigned, and then just STOPPED attending class. And never bothered to tell his scene partner until he randomly showed up at one of her culinary events TWO DAYS AGO. They were supposed to do their final scene next week, and he tells her on Tuesday, “Oh, yeah, I dropped that class.” Now she has to rehearse & deliver a two-minute monologue that she’s never seen or heard before. In six days. I have faith in her ability to pull it off, but I just hope SHE’S convinced she can do it – otherwise, the whole thing could turn her off from acting altogether, which would be a shame because I can tell she likes it & would probably do some pretty great stuff if she kept at it. But now all that’s at risk because of Douchey’s ultimate dose of up-fuckery.

He’s dead to me. No, I’m serious. That’s just a completely irresponsible attitude, and all this shit is just supposed to be FUN. If you don’t want to do it, don’t take the damn class! Don’t risk a scene partner’s experience and slough it off like it’s not a commitment you’re breaking. Shit’s too important to people. Take some frikkin’ accountability, you frikkin’ troll doll. (Literally – this douche LOOKS like a 5’9 version of a Troll Doll, with hair that makes him seem 3″ taller.)

Alright. Rant over. I’m off to dream of a world where people don’t rob from the bank of scholarly trust.

Baby on BORED

Happy Halloween.

Our Sales Admin department decided last week that we’d have a costume contest this morning at 8am. In true me fashion, I immediately got nervous. What am I gonna wear? What’s considered “acceptable” here? What if I’m the only one who dresses up? What if I’m the only one who DOESN’T dress up? People really need to consider the feelings of Neurotic Insecures (new term, abbreviated NI, prounounced “KNEE!”, coined here today by yours truly, defines yours truly quite well) before they announce costume contests – I’ve had agita about this ever since. No wonder I’m not getting much done at work. … Okay, that’s a stretch even for me. I’m not getting things done because there’s NOT a lot to do, and what there is to do isn’t exactly lighting my fire, but I’m also feeling run-down lately, so I’m being lazy. Sue me.

Anyway, I ended up wearing a baby costume, complete with bonnet & bottle (sold separately) that I bought 4 years ago and haven’t worn since. Totally rocked it. Walked in & people just bust up laughing and telling me I’ve got guts, gumption, gall, etc. (never noticed that almost all words that are polite ways to say ‘balls’ start with a hard g – coincidence?) So they voted, and I won most creative costume because I have “nerves of steel” according to our VP Sales. (She was actually dressed as Measles (the disease), courtesy of her 7-year-old daughter who pasted little red construction paper polka-dots all over her.) Given all the praise, and me being a small-time ham but a ham nonetheless, I’m going to wear it all day. (Never mind that it’s bordering just on the safe side of showin’ off me twig & berries. But as long as it stays on the safe side, or I hide behind a strategically placed notepad, I’ll be fine.)

What’d I win? A $200 gift certificate to Boulevard here in SF. Boy do I feel guilty – I BOUGHT this costume, and I bought it FOUR YEARS AGO and have never worn it, and now all of a sudden I have a sizable gift to an extremely gourmet experience on the Embarcadero. The only way I could feel more guilty is if I played it like I didn’t win, and then used the GC to take R out for her b-day in November. It’s a thought that crossed my mind, but A) was too excited about winning that I couldn’t not tell her; and B) she reads the hell out of my blog, and I had to tell Wyltie about this.

I guess I can just think of it as compensation for my agita over this. But there were a few other costumes that were more original (or at least more homemade) than mine. Two of our Finance managers showed up as handstands – they put gloves on their feet, strapped shirts to their legs, flipped jeans upside down and stuck their hands in a pair of boots, and looked very real. One lady did a full-on black spiderweb ghosty ensemble that I think went undervalued. One of our directors on my team showed up as Nappy D, which isn’t a big deal for most folks but I didn’t expect it at all coming from this guy – he’s built like Homer Simpson, has the brain of Homer the Greek, and the personality of a cold spoon. For him to go full-on with the wig and the Vote for Pedro t-shirt, outdated jeans and huge glasses… well, I’m glad to see he has some humor. He wins for Most Surprising Effort. And one chick showed up as a Fried Egg. She made the costume herself out of a white bedsheet and some yellow fabric. Now Fried Egg is not a very exciting costume, but the execution and authenticity of it was striking.

Look at me getting all emotional and analytical about Halloween costumes. You know what that is? That’s me exploiting any opportunity to be creative/funny & making it more impactful. Why? Cuz I’ve got the bug. I wanna act or perform.

… crap, but now I have to go have a one-on-one with the boss. I thought he was out sick because he wasn’t in this morning for the contest thing. *sigh* Left Brain vs. Right Brain. It’s DEFLATING even when I’m just writing the blog and I have to get up and actually work. (Slacker mentality aside, I actually NEED to do this, and the only time I seem to have is when I’m at work. Sue me.)

WAIT! Bonus! My admin says he’s busy with the new boss (MyLINH, pronounced Mee-LING, I’ve been told). No meeting. More writing.

So I wanna act/perform/create in some way. I can do what I’m doing to enable that… but eventually I don’t want it to be something I’m enabling. I want it to be the only thing. Financially and professionally it really makes so little sense that it puts a sinking feeling in my stomach when I think about those aspects. But dammit, what if I rock at it? Or what if I rock at it just enough to become a cult favorite like Robert Goulet (may he rest in peace)?

There’s a lot to be said for the ‘good’ things that come of being a professional in the business world. And it should prepare me fairly well for my ultimate goal of being a teacher or a professor, providing lots of real world experience from which to draw anecdotal stories to relate to the students yadda yadda. But what about the healing power of laughter? What about the ability to directly affect lots of people from one stage? And what about the practice of being on an ACTUAL stage before getting on stage in front of tons of students? *sigh* Conflicted much? A much too much.

Happy frikkin’ Halloween. Stay the hell out of the Castro and stay off the Bay Bridge so I can get home tonight (had to drive to work today due to the costume).

Armand… Is The Wind!

Watching “Mannequin” on A&E on a Sunday morning, after making a big healthy post-gym breakfast. Life is good. Oughtta slow down and recognize that a bit more often.

Today’s title is a quote from the movie, the scene where Roxy & Armand drive up to Jonathan & Emmy, who are sitting on Jonathan’s motorcycle. Jonathan tells Roxy to bugger off, and Armand suggests “distasteable” sex with him as a way to get the whole affair out of her mind. She agrees but tells him to hurry before she has second thoughts. His reply: “Armand… is the wind!”

Every once in a while you hear a line like that from a fantastically classic movie & you want to bring it back. The actor that says it, even the whole ensemble cast in the movie, is pretty forgettable – only James Spader carries much recognition any more – but when you get to deliver a line like this one in such a great character voice… well, it makes me want to be on stage & forget about the audience, forget about the success, forget about notoriety. I would just love to be an obnoxious character in a mediocre movie (or even a SHITTY movie) that gets to deliver some great humor.

The bug is getting larger, and sooner or later it’ll be too big to ignore. Pretty soon it’ll have an apple stuck in its exoskeleton. (I hate Kafka.)