8-05: Broke, Don't Do Shit

Hey errybody, I'm writing this post now.

This has been a very weird weekend for me.
I have been, by night mainly, doing the remount of this one-act show that I did a couple weekends ago. It's part of this festival at this local NoHo (North Ho-ville) theatre called Eclectic Theatre. They're all really cool peoples. I found the job through my regular audition source, and it was a lot of fun. Anyway, in the festival, there are 3 one-acts every weekend and the audience votes for which one is their favorite. That "favorite" moves onto the final round, which was this weekend. Now, if you're a fan of deductive reasoning, but now you will hopefully have figured out that the show I was in won our weekend, and so it got to go back up again. Which was awesome. I got to play a hyper-aggressive 8-12 (let's say 9) year old boy who's participating in a water balloon fight. It was a good time, especially because we had the gimmick of running offstage, getting soaked, and then coming back on. That's always fun.

So I was mostly just doing my show every night, and then this Sunday matinee, this weekend. But I worked a little as well. But in between was just kind of an awkward, sleepy, funky, haze. I'm going through another one of those phases where I don't really know what to do with my free time, only this time it's because I don't really feel like doing anything. I think I may have slid into another minor little funkeroo, just for this weekend (hopefully), because I'm...well, incredibly broke right now.
Had to get my roommate to really help me out with the rent this month (thanks again, Ali!) and something about not having the means to buy things when I need them really makes me feel all self-conscious and weird.
I think I get this way when I either:
A. Don't have money
B. Don't have a place to live
C. Don't have transportation

And now that I look at it all listed out like that, it would appear that I enjoy being an independent, adult person, and freak out whenever one of my "necessities" are thrown into jeopardy. Especially when I'm relying heavily on someone to supply me with either: housing, transportion, food, etc. I just feel like I'm putting upon them so much that I feel like a dirty hobo. Which I mean, don't get me wrong, I am. But I don't like to flaunt it like those other hobos.

As I'm sure my mom will most likely say upon reading this, "You'd be not go into a downwards spiral every time you don't have that much money or you're going to be depressed a LOT in your acting career". Which isn't without truth.

Now I can't get a new job until I get back from my family trip to Japan because nowhere will they hire me when I tell them, "Oh by the way, I'm going out of town for a week next week, so training is going to have to um, you know, wait." So that kind of blows, because I could really use a new job asap. I like Pinkberry now. I know many of you may say, "But JAYME, you're Facebook info says that you're 'slowly dying on the inside' at Pinkberry?!? EXPLAIN YOURSELF." I hear you, Screamy Joe.
I like my co-workers a lot more and even certain customers are rays of sunshine in my dreary, perfect life. But I just need more money. We hired two new people and the hours are like...ZLOOP. So you know what that means.
...Right?
Time for a new, better paying job!
Come on, keep up!

I'm feeling very restless and transitory right now, kind of like a bear whose gone into hibernation to wait out the winter, where the winter is this weird two week period where I can't make any advances in my career. I don't know if you noticed, but I don't like being stagnant. Dead in the water, and such. Maybe a bear isn't the right metaphor. Maybe the metaphor I'm looking for is actually a...metapod?
That's right, taking it back to the URL, baby!
For those of you who don't know, a metapod is a cocoon Pokemon who is a bad-ass cocoon. He lies dormant until he evolves into the Butterfree (which by the way, should totally be the name of the new blog I start once I become a mega movie star, because how awesome would that be). So maybe I'm just really channeling the metapod right now, awaiting my metamorphosis.

On an unrelated note, I'm reading Stephen King's book, On Writing, right now.
It's terrifying! His scariest yet!
So maybe his words will inspire me to put out more words into the universe.
Only thyme will tell.
...
It's a very potent spice.

A Busyful Mind

Hello again, world. My name is Jayme.
Just in case you have forgotten since last time.
I don't know why you would have. It's right up there at the top of the page.

I have many things on my mind currently. Some of them are old issues that I was really feeling passionate about weeks ago, so the fire inside me to speak about them may be out, and some of them are current musings on stuff brought on by alcohol.

First of all, I should probably tell you that I made the most amazing dinner tonight. A portobello mushroom and provolone burger (don't get too excited, I bought them at Ralph's) with sliced mozzarella, ketchup, and mayonnaise. Along with a side of mashed potatoes that I...wait for it...MADE FROM SCRATCH. Now this may not seem like a big deal to some of you. Maybe you've helped Grandma in the kitchen every Thanksgiving until she died, but guess what I DIDN'T so suck it. I've never made mashed potatoes from scratch before. But I looked at the contents of my fridge, I said, "I'm hungry", and I decided that mashed potatoes were on the menu. It took some finagling and lots of garlic chopping and some mashing, but it was finally done and they tasted pretty damn good. Lots of red pepper flakes, garlic (duh, I already said that), salt, pepper, mexican cheese, and sour cream. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. Good thing I made so much that I'll have leftovers for the rest of time. Cause that's exactly how long I want to eat them.
And eating them conjured up such pleasant memories of my first Helen Hayes Awards, in which I was nominated, and they had a mashed potato bar pre-show. It. Was. Mouthgasmic.
Ugh. Yum. Yup, it took me right back to that night.

And I devoured all these yummy big boy treats while drinking a beer and watching episode 8 of Freaks and Geeks, a great show that everybody in the world seems to have seen and says its pretty good, so I'm finally checking it out. In this episode, the main male lead (pretty much), Sam, at one point says, "I've already got two friends. How many more friends does a guy need?!" While endearing and funny because of how naive it sounds, it really made me miss the days of being a kid. Back in the days of elementary/middle school when sometimes, you really only had one or two friends. And every day afterschool it wasn't a question of "who am I going to hang out with?" it was more, "I wonder what we're going to do today." And when the answer was: hang out at someone's house for 3/4/5 hours playing some dumb board game while trying to figure out what you're going to do. And that you only had those two friends (give or take a friend and a half or two)! I think I'm really nostalgic...or maybe just mournfully envious, of people who have a really tight clique of friends that they've been with forever. I feel like I'm naturally predisposed to just making lots of surface level friends rather than a few really good ones, who I know backwards and forwards and can share anything with. And I'm not talking about girl friends or friends who are girls. I mean like a close-knit group of GUY friends. I don't know what it was, something about that line just made me feel all, "awww. Friends." I don't know, maybe I'm crazy and aren't seeing things as they are. But there are certain people that I want to just get to know better and hang out with, but I repel from them for whatever reason. Whether I'm too scared that I'll fuck it up or whether I'm afraid they won't like me or whether I'm afraid they'll just make me feel like shit. I don't consciously think or feel these things, they just seem to be quietly poisoning me and my friendships from my subconscious out.

Anywaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, I'm getting tired of writing and I am looking forward to this next beer, so I'll try and keep this next talking point short-ish, if I can help it.
I had a thought the other day that I adhere too strongly to rules. I'm a perfectionist about some things in my life, and in those things, I do, I follow the rules WAY too closely. I'm a good boy. I don't really break the rules. But when it comes to things that I don't care about, I'm fucking James Dean. And it occurred to me the other day that...I've got to stop following the rules. Isn't there something out there that says, "Learn all the rules so you can break them"? Well, I've learned the rules, and I'm starting to think I need to say fuck it to the rules and just be myself. We as a species are attracted to unpredictable things. Things that are exciting because almost ANYTHING could happen around them. And it's similar in acting too. The actors who are the most interesting to watch are the ones who follow impulses night after night and don't deliver lines the same exact way every single show. I don't know if this theory I'm cooking up really applies to acting, but either way, I think I want to stop following rules, whether socially implied or directly given, more and start just doing what I feel like doing. As long as what I feel like doing doesn't hurt anybody or suck, I should be fine and dandy, right?
I'm a badass now. Get used to it.
Well, I mean I was before too, you just didn't notice because you were too DUMB.
Booya. That's the new badass Jayme. Like it? Don't care. Didn't ask if you did.
Well okay I did. But you know what else I did. TELL YOU TO SHUT UP.
When did I do that, you ask yourself, dumbly. Right now.
Shut up, silent reader!

Just kidding, I love you, SR.
Be my friend?

DOUBLE JUST KIDDING. FUCK YOU, SR. That's a dumb abbreviation, anyway!
Who gave you it, YOUR MAMMY?!
Alright, this has gone on long enough and I'm sure it is not as amusing to read as it is to write. And that last bit got a little racially charged, so it's best to nip that in the bud before it grows into a tall, mighty Racist Redwood Tree. Or "Native American"-wood Tree, as they would have you call it.

Alright then. That was stupid. Haha
Goodnight Cleveland!
Rabble Rabble Rabble Rabble Rabble

An Exciting Week

Hey all! Lovely to be back. I would have been back sooner, but I didn't really want to be, so I didn't. SO SUCK ON THOSE ACORNS, WORLD.

I had an exciting week last week so I thought it would be the perfect time to do a little updatey poo. I was going to write all about it Saturday afternoons but then I started freaking out and having anxiety attacks, so I decided to put it on hold.
More on that later.

So firstly and firstmostly, I was so generously invited to attend an audition for a show that's being put up at The Actor's Gang directed by some fancy European man who I'm sure is a big-wig amongst the right people. But I didn't know him, so he will be referred to as David the Directing Frog. Now, this was a very generous thing for the Actors Gang to do, let us come audition for this show, seeing as in how we are all just a bunch of lowly actors in our first 8-week class with them, but I wasn't complaining. So I show up to audition for uproariously laugh-riot Restoration Comedy, and I walk into the theatre, and sitting on stage to audit me are 1. One of my teachers from my class 2. David the Directing Frog and 3. Tim Robbins. Now, Tim Robbins is one of the founders of the Actors Gang, and he just so happened to have sat in on a few of our classes, so he wasn't the biggest surprise. But, he is a big deal. This is Mr. Shawshank. So he still evokes a bit of "oh fuck I've got to act my best so he might take notice and take me under his wing or maybe cast me in something hahaha OH GOD PLEASE LOVE ME FAMOUS MAN." So I saunter up there, introduce myself, and stand back to get into my scene. I'm assigned my scene, and we're about to start, when I ask, "Oh, and who will I be reading with so I know who to look at?" and Tim raises his hand and says, "Me." Honestly, I didn't have time to freak out, but I freaked out plenty after the audition. But when he said that my brain just went "AHHHHHHHHHHH" for a fraction of a second, but then was over. And of course he was just having a lot of fun with the accents, because he's been there all day reading this shit. But I think it went well, I didn't feel terrible afterwards, so it was a good time. And now I can tell people I've acted with Tim Robbins. So that's fun.

Later that week, I headed out to a bar to meet up with my friend Emma, who had just turned 21. We started out at this place The Belmont Cafe where she assured me her friend Alex was going to "hook us up". Which apparently meant just telling us what things were good and saying hi to everybody he knew. Which was a lot of people, but usually when someone tells me that I'm going to be "hooked up", I expect free shit. Don't tell me you're hooking me up if you're not getting me free shit. But it was cool, because I made him pay with the promise of cash back later and TOTALLY didn't end up paying him back. HaHA! Take that, random stranger! To be real, he seemed like a sleazy douche, so I didn't feel too bad doing it. So we ended up barhopping down the Sunset strip, but before we left the Belmont Alex introduced us to his friend, a plumper, middle-aged man by the name of Kevin and his very tan girlfriend whose name I forget. Now, ordinarily I wouldn't have remembered Kevin's name either, but when we left the Belmont Alex turns to us and goes, "You know who that was? That's Chris Farley's brother. Kevin Farley." Needless to say, I had another freakout. I'd idolized Chris Farley for much of my young adult life, and seeing as in how he's dead now, seeing his brother is about the closest I can get to meeting him. It was pretty fucking cool. So when he came with us to the next bar, I knew I had to talk to him more. Unfortunately he didn't seem too interested in talking to me. He did however succeed in making me very uncomfortable at one point. He got into a conversation (somehow) with Emma about racing.
Emma: "I could beat you in a foot race."
K. Farley: "Yeah, probably. But I bet I could drink you under the table."
*beat*
K. Farley: (to me) "Because I'm an alcoholic."
*long, smile-covering-sadness smile right at me*
Jayme: "Hehehehehe...yeaaah. You are."

Needless to say, mega awkward. I still don't know whether he was kidding or not. He WAS drunk though, so I think that's a good case for "not". Looks like the apple doesn't fall far from the dead brother apple. =(

WARNING: THERE ARE NO CELEBRITIES OR CELEBRITY BROTHERS IN THIS STORY.
WARNING: IT ALSO MIGHT NOT BE SO MUCH A STORY AS A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS.
So I'm in this little one-act show at this local community theatre. It's called The Great and All Wet Water Balloon Battle. It's actually a ton of fun. All my co-actors are good actors too! It's been a good time. I play a rag-tag, war-crazy, hyper-aggressive little 12 year old who gets a lot of Braveheart-esque pre-war speeches. We actually go offstage and re-enter drenched in water too, and there's a lot of really good double-entendres with the word "wet" being used so often in the show, so I consider it a raging success! It opens this weekend and if you're reading this and you live in the United States, you should probably come see it. We can go drinking afterwards! It'll be great! We can pretend I'm getting paid to do it and that I'm a real working actor!

And finally, I'm going to Japan in mid-August to visit my cousins/visit Japan, so I'm crazy stoked for that! Granted, it's delaying my taking improv classes anywhere, but it's still going to be a one-in-a-lifetime thing, so it's going to rule. Plus I love traveling. And it'll be just me, my siblings, and my cousins. And at night, me Jordan and Roby are going to be hitting the clubs, so watch out all you Japanese nerdy dance robots, cause we're going to be dancing all up ons. If anyone's got any sweet suggestions for places or things to visit in Japan (KJ), please let me know. Also, teach me Japanese. Arigato.

Upcoming goals for the future: Write more, act more, take improv classes as soon as I get back from Japan, get a serving job so I can financially support all these things.

Once I get to a point where I'm self-reliant and have a savings account with at least some emergency dough in it, and I'm going out to auditions and taking comedy classes, I'll be living the dream and feeling easy, breezy, beautiful.
Covergirl.

Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeepyyyyyyyyyyyy. Going to sleep.
OH GOD I WAS SO CAUGHT UP IN THE CELEBRITIES AND THE JAPAN THAT I FORGOT THE BEST PART OF THE LAST WEEK. My new (old?) gfffl Emma and I are a thing!
Post about that coming up next! Too fucking late now.

THE TIME HAS COME THE WALRUS SAID.
TO GO TO FUCKING SLEEP.
Good night, moon!

A "Yes, And..." Man

A girl at my acting class tonight asked me something.
Before I say what she asked me, I should explain that at this acting class, we practice a very specific style (aptly named "The Style") wherein we exist in only 4 different emotional states on-stage. Happy, Angry, Sad, and Afraid. That's all. Now we've only had one class so far, but we've been working with those emotions A LOT, as you can probably imagine.
So, before our second class starts, she asks me, "What state is the most difficult for you?" to which I reply "Sadness" to which she followed up, "Which one is the easiest?" to which I reply "Afraid...I was a very scared little kid. Mainly because I had an older brother who loved to scare the crap out of me."

Cut to end of class. We've just spent an hour and a half doing an exercise we do nothing but move around the space in a way that is connected to the entire ensemble. Very "energy" based and "group-mindedness"-y. Now the first...hour, probably, of the exercise was a lot of trying to feel the group out and in general, sucking. But the last 15 minutes (at least, there was probably a good 15 minutes of mediocre stuff in the middle) was some really magical, connected stuff, where the group was coming together and trusting each other in ways that only friends who have known each other for years would trust each other. It was really cool. And it felt so...primal. There was chanting involved, and middle fingers towards the sky, and pounding on the ground. It got weird.
But afterwards I noticed that all these people that I barely know, people who I had really WANTED to get to know but couldn't bring myself to fluidly start conversations with (there was one 3 minute period during our break earlier that I found especially painful. I almost blurted out, "I'm so bad at making conversation! Hi, what do you guy do or where are you from or...tell me your story!" But I didn't, instead, I just kept looking up at these people, making eye contact, getting shy and looking away again in embarrassment because I had nothing to say. It was bad.) Well now I've lost the previous sentence, so here's the set-up to it again:...afterwards I noticed that all these people that I barely know, people who I had really WANTED to get to know but couldn't bring myself to fluidly start conversations with, I had this connection with them and suddenly they actually felt like friends I had but just didn't know anything about.

Now, this could easily go into a "Isn't theatre MAGICAL?!" or "The power of HUMAN CONNECTION in THEATRE", but it's not going to. Sorry, bucko, we're taking a detour.

Instead I'd like to talk about how much I (and maybe some others of you out there?) live in fear. Weird social fear that I don't understand. Not all the time. Not even most of the time. But specifically and strongly around people I don't know yet.

Have you ever just finished something that you KNOW was amazing and you feel so proud of it and you're confidence peaks and you just feel like you are the best version of yourself? That's what I feel like everyone's "true self" is, to get douchey sounding for a second. It's that state where you just don't think about what you say before you say it because you know without a doubt it's the right thing to say, and if someone thinks otherwise, fuck them! That's just the way you are and those are the things your mouth and brain will produce! I feel like that's the only time when people are their real, deep down, true blue self. Now, some people live in this state all the time. Either because their confidence level is always fixed at an undeserved and irresponsibly high level or because they just don't think before they speak. Their mouth moves faster than their brain. And for some people, that's a great thing. But one of the reasons why I love alcohol is because I am one of those people whose brain is usually always planning and analyzing my speech before it is speechified, and alcohol really slows down that process and lets my mouth win the race. Which, while not always the best thing, certainly makes me feel like I'm being more "myself", without all the fears and social stigmas and imagined, fictional "awkwardness" tainting every sentence that comes out of my mouth.

More people should be nice. Anyone who judges somebody for breaking the ice and initiating conversation in a pleasant one should be shot. In the ass. With a gun. A big gun. It takes a lot of balls to be "that guy" or "that girl" who starts up a conversation with a stranger and asks them to open up while at the same time, courageously, opening up about themselves to them in an effort to get to know them.

To not shut down stupid ideas, even when you know they are stupid and awful, and instead just say, "Yes, and...". And for those of you who aren't familiar with this improv term, it basically just means that you take whatever idea the person just had, accept it immediately, and then build upon it. No denial. No judgement. Just take it, even if you think it sucks, and build upon it until you MAKE it good.

Man, this entry was a little all over the place. And I can definitely spot the spots where my brain was really trying to kick it into overdrive and produce some solid writing and the spots where my brain just flat-lined and my hands kept going with all the words.

I think the major point I wanted this to be about is: I want to be able to start conversations with strangers in my class without coming off as a weirdo. I want to be able to compliment girls (and guys!) in my class on something they did without anyone thinking that I am HITTING ON THEM. Jesus, that is really one of my biggest pet peeves and has evolved into one of my biggest social insecurities. I purposely sometimes act cold or will not compliment a member of the opposite sex specifically because I fear that she will think I'm hitting on her and tell people I'm a creeper.
I've just been the "people" girls tell that shit to too often. And every time I say, "Well, he might have just been trying to be nice to you." and it is too often met with, "No no no no no, you should have heard the way he SAID it." or "Maybe. But I don't know, he smiled way too much..."

This is a problem, people. Not just girls. Although I'm sorry I did go off on a little tirade on you at the end there...I just had to get that one off my chest because that's one of my hang-ups.
But seriously people, stop with all the judgement. We're all here and most of us just want to be nice to each other.

I just want to live in a world where I can tell people that I like the things that they do without coming off as disingenuous or a sleaze-ball.
Is that too much to ask?

WHY CAN'T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?

World Peace 2012!

Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen.

-Jayme's 2012 Miss America Speech

Won't You Take Me To...

Hey! I'm back! Sorry about that brief hiatus, I should have warned ya'll, Diablo III came out and my life was nothing but it for about...3 weeks. I'm still pretty hooked on it, but it's been a while since I've hopped on it, so I figured I'd better update while I'm not DEEP into it.

But it's not just D3 coming into my life alone that has resulted in my lack of updates.
No, this problem is far worse. And far less easy to pin down.

This problem is that lately I've been feeling like I hate writing. I mean, I probably don't really, but that's what I've been feeling a lot lately. I don't know what it is. But recently, I just haven't felt the need to express my thoughts to the world. I went on this website that has a comprehensive "Dream Dictionary" which analyzes the things you dream about and tells you what they might mean. According to it, I'm depressed. Which...might be true? Because I've been in a very strange non-pro-active funk lately. I don't feel like making people laugh. I don't feel like writing. I've been very anti-social. I don't know what it is exactly. I don't feel sad or anything, just tired all the time and very lethargic.

Typical Jayme that it takes depression to get me to write.
Typical Jayme writing a depression entry IMMEDIATELY after a "Life is gooood" entry.

I dreamed that I had a giant splinter that I pulled out of my hand and the dream interpretation of a splinter is "you're letting the little things in life bother you too much". Which is true, I'm doing some awesome things right now but for some reason it's not registering in my brain. I'm in a one-act play that's going to be a fun little show. I'm taking acting classes at The Actor's Gang, learning The Style, Commedia Del Arte archetypes, and emotional states, which is the most fun I've had in ages. And I shot an episode of this crime recreation show Fatal Encounters back in January that just aired last night. I watched it, and I had way more screen time than I thought I was going to have!

I have also recently stopped meditating, which might be part of the problem. Maybe it's about time to pick that shit back up again.

But my main concern with this funk is the main concern I have with EVERY funk. It's the fear that it is not a funk. It's just the new you. The new "adult" you. And he sucks. He's not funny. He's anti-social. He's tired all the time and does nothing beyond the average. Ugh, back to this mediocrity thing again?! Seriously? This is ridiculous.

I'm better than this. I have more self-control and discipline than this. I usually don't force myself to do things out of obligation if I can help it, but I'm going to start forcing myself back into meditation, exercise, and most importantly, writing. Because I feel like this whole "I can't write without social motivation!" thing I'm going through has to do with some weird "My writing's not worth reading." bullshit I'm going through. Fuck that.

It's just a funk. And I'm turning it around starting today. Because I can. Because this quote by Anna Freud (Sidmund Freud's daughter) sums it up pretty well: "I was always looking outside myself for strength and confidence but it comes from within. It is there all the time." I've always liked that quote. I believe strongly in the power of strength and discipline from within. That's why I'm so jacked.

This entry took 2 weeks to start. Then it was saved as a draft three lines in. Then, a week later, it was finished.
It was supposed to be about how I can't write, specifically comedy sketches, without social motivation to do so.
It was going to be called "Writing On Writing", but after finishing it, that didn't seem like a correct title at all. I really liked that title too! It was perfectly in sync with my past entry, cleverly entitled "Meditations on Meditating".
Oh well. Maybe "Writing On Writing" will show up later.

So I'm going to wake up now and stop feeling so damn tired!

It's funny, because this all started when my friend Ann linked to my blog from her blog, and I thought, "Damn. My blog is not a funny blog at all. My blog is more like a swampy, messy dive into some kid's psyche." And I was all, "I should make my blog funnier! Write funny stuff for people who read it!". Now, this may or may not happen. I don't know! We'll see how I feel.

Off to meditate on writing on meditations on writing!

Nipple.

(Special thanks Joe for reminding me that people read my shit and that people notice when I go for too long without blogging.)

5-09-12

Hey everybody,

Just wanted to say a little something.

Life is gooood.

I just came to that conclusion.

Maybe it's my realization that things are nice and slow right now instead of 2 fast and 2 furious.

Maybe it's the sriracha I bought the other day and am putting on EVERYTHING.

Maybe it's because I just did a group job interview for an amazing new cafe the other day and am feeling really good
about it. It would be the best job ever. I want it. Ergo it will be mine.

Maybe it's because I'm more than likely about to go out to a gay club and get my drank on.

Maybe it's because Diablo III comes out next week.

Either way, I'm happy right now. Don't care why.

But honestly, it's probably the sriracha.

Wakka wakka wakka!

Ugh

Ugh I'm so tired of writing whiny entries. I feel like all I do is complain and spew out emotion.

I can't decide if it makes me more or less human to vent these emotions but I feel like a big whiny bag of crap who only blogs when he's depressed.

I also realize the irony that this post itself is a whiny blog post about whiny blog posts.

I just can't decide! I feel weird if I blog about my feelings and I feel weird if I don't.

I wish I had as much incentive to write stand-up material as I did to bitch about being insecure sometimes.

I feel like my posts have gotten really boring recently, too. There doesn't seem to be any incentive to entertain the reader. What say ye, reader? Are ye not entertained? If not by my skillful writing, then by my skillful truthiness?

Blarg, I say! Blarg!

Note to children: don't drink and blog.