12:50 pm - Thurs 9.10.2009
Talked with Margaret K.C. earlier today.
I shared with her that, even though things are going well in many respects (The bookings last month, three auditions so far this month, a nice residual check in yesterday's mail, and good response to my stuff in stand-up class), I'm feeling kind of angst-y and stressed and sad.
I'm sure it's residual sadness after Mark and Jane's visit - which reminded me exactly what I'm missing out here in Tinseltown - along with the usual anxieties about money and career and what-not.
And as of next week, I'll be missing the person who helps me deal with "anxieties about money and career and what-not"; due to budget constraints, and a new, hard-line administration, I'm being pushed out of the Hollywood and Sunset Free Clinic, where I've met Javier once a week for the past couple years (They're shaking off long-timers like Yours Truly to give other mentally ill unfortunates, who've been languishing on their waiting list, their shot at mental health).
I'm not happy about it, but there's nothing to do but soldier on; I've been telling myself "everything ends" and "life goes on" (for now anyway), and "I managed out here for years before Javier"...but none of that means I have to like it, or that it won't be a challenging adjustment.
(So anyway, now when I start flipping out in here on a regular basis, you'll know why.)
Had an audition for Wizards of Waverly Place yesterday.
(I'm assuming I didn't get it at this point - Feels like I would have heard by now.)
It was nothing really - one nondescript line. For all the "acting" involved, they could have just booked someone off their photo, and saved us all some time.
But not only did they not do that, the audition actually was in two parts - When I went into the room, I read the line, the casting person said, "Okay, we're going to put you on tape", and they took me into another room to do the line on camera.
(It made me wonder how badly you'd have to do to not be put on tape - A profane burst of Tourette's Syndrome, perhaps, or spontaneously wetting yourself.)
Writing about this right now reminded me of something that genuinely annoyed me last week...
Went in for The Forgotten on Wednesday (The Forgotten is a new show on ABC starring Christian Slater).
It was a nice little co-star thing (Five or six lines as an apartment manager), and when I got in the room, they asked me to do a "slate" (Where you say your name on camera), then asked me how tall I was.
In the moment, I didn't think anything of it - I just did my bit, which went well, then I left, thinking to myself, "I could book this..." - but afterward, I started thinking about the slate; far as I know there's no "height requirement" for being an apartment manager, so the only reason I could see for then asking how tall I am was that the scene was with the (apparently) diminutive Mr Slater.
And if that was the case - if there was cut-off point to how tall you could be to act with "Little Christian S." - I'm very annoyed. To put in the time and effort to learn my lines and drive there, to give it my best and think I had a chance, only to never be in the running in the first place...is a little bit crazy-making.
But who knows? Maybe if I'd been just a little better, they would have said "Who cares if he makes C.S. look like a 'little person'? - This is our guy!"
That's not usually the way it goes, though.
This isn't an original thought, but I think there's truth to it - A fundamental belief we're wrestling with, in the health care debate, is the belief many people in our society have that "If you don't make money, you're not worth anything".
I think a lot of people don't believe health care for everyone should be a "right", or is the responsibility of a civilized society; instead, they feel like health care is a reward, something you deserve "because you worked hard, and can pay for it".
("Survival of the financially fittest", I guess you could say.)
For the first time since moving to LA, A couple weeks ago I asked my apartment manager if we could skip the annual rent increase this year.
He said he'd ask his boss...but I never heard back on what the answer was, and the rent was due by the third (And this was the month the rent increase - almost another $50 a month - was supposed to go into effect).
So I paid the regular rent - of $719.47 (Can't explain why, but the fact that it's an odd number bugs me), and have been on pins and needles, waiting to see if it's gonna fly...or if the apartment manager is gonna catch me in the hall, and tell me I gotta pony up the rest of the dough.
(More on that story as it develops...if it develops.)
Well, I could write more...but then I wouldn't be napping (And I feel a powerful desire for a nap before the long ride to WW tonite).
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