First Weekend Post-Mortem

Dear Reader,

Holy flying cars of the future, Batman! WE DID IT!!!!!!!

Ladies and gentlemen, we have now opened all three shows of our first season without having a dress rehearsal for any of them. Utterly terrifying? Yes. Do I hope with all my heart that we never have to do that again ever ever ever ever ever ever ever? HELL yes. Am I still insanely proud of the fact that we pulled if off, and pulled it off well?

You bet your boots. The good pair. Not the shit-kickers.

I found her. Terry was relatable, likable, vulnerable, a little insane near the end, and ultimately; human. Mission accomplished.

Now I just have the task of not slacking off for the next three weekends. *gulp* It’s so easy to allow myself to get comfortable in a role once it’s familiar, but if I do that with this chick, I’m sunk. If I let myself relax too much she won’t be what I need her to be: herself. She is a high control, high maintenance, nice person, who never stops being a teacher for one moment. “Relax” is not in her vocabulary. Her idea of down time is finding the most intricate classroom project possible (you KNOW she is on Pinterest), and making each one of her students their own, individual version of said project. She is a little tightly wound, and while I myself can chill a little, I can’t stop feeling the need to work with her, or she will be a little too “honey, just sit down and have some tea while we talk about our feelings”. Or something to that effect.

BUT for the moment, I am going eat some celebratory bacon, and focus on the important thing…WE DID IT!!!

Go Mom, go!
Go Mom, go!

Why do I do it?

Dear Reader,

Acting is HARD. Like, back breaking, emotionally weary, all encompassingly HARD. Making a living off of it? Even harder.

So…Why do I do it?

I have a son.

“Well, yes!” I can hear you saying. “Shouldn’t you be trying to do whatever you can to provide him with the best that the world has to offer?” You might say. “Acting doesn’t pay enough for you to do that. You should do something else.”.

I can’t do that.

I am an actor. That is what I am. I can try to be something else. Hell, I HAVE tried to be something else. It didn’t end well. Denying the part of myself that is an actor is the same as attempting to be someone who I am not. That never goes well for anyone.

There was a period during my pregnancy when I was convinced: that was it. My life as an artist was over. I hadn’t “made it” before having a baby, and it was time to set aside my dreams, drive, and my passion in order to find something mundane (to me) but stable in order to help provide for my family. I spent days trying to convince myself that it was what was best for my son. After all, it’s not about just my hippie and me anymore. It was about what was best for our son.

We thought we had already fallen in love with him every time he kicked his little feet, or got the hiccups. Every weekend when I came home a little larger than the one previous, the hippie was so thrilled to see proof that our tiny was thriving. We really thought we were prepared to meet that little person, and then he was here. Nothing, not hearing his heartbeat, feeling his kicks, watching him grow inside me, NOTHING prepared us for how desperately in love we fell with that little pink person.

And THAT’S why I do it. I love my son. More than I have loved anything.

This is who I am. It’s unconventional. It’s damned inconvenient around the holidays (I sing for church services), and it certainly doesn’t pay very well. But it’s who I am. I can’t hide from that, and trying to be someone else while raising a child to be unafraid of who they are? YOU try it sometime.

In the words of my hippie: “How can we teach him to be who he is, if we stop being who we are?”.

So, now you know.


My boys. My motivation. My loves. My life.
My boys. My motivation. My loves. My life.


Dear reader,

I cannot lie, this character is kicking my ass. At first I thought it was just because she made my skin crawl at first glance, but that isn’t it. She is …complicated.

In spite of my best efforts, I feel sorry for her. She is a woman who is just doing what she thinks is right, dealing with a lot of hurt (see my previous post on her lack of children), and (up to the point where she takes someone else’s child) she is not entirely in the wrong. The little boy she tries to “protect” from his parents is actually in a bit of crisis. She is right in addressing the problem, but very flawed in the way she goes about it.

As uptight as she is, I can’t imagine that she had a very pleasant childhood. Her need for order probably stems from having controlling parents of her own. In my history that I have written for her, her parents are the reason her own child was taken from her. Her love for her students (because she IS a good teacher. The kind that students go back to visit after they leave) stems from a desperate need to give her mother’s love to the children she can’t have, and the one that was taken from her. Her need to save Max is a direct result of having her own child ripped from her arms, and given to strangers without her consent.

When Max begins to turn into a puppet (it’s a part of the show. Just trust me, it’s AWESOME!), she has already been informed that he’s being moved to another kindergarten class. Her brain IMMEDIATELY associates this with having her baby taken from her, and she can’t let that happen. Not again. So she does what she does.

Ok y’all, that is a LOT of depth. And the audience doesn’t necessarily know that is her story. This is what I, as an actor, have created in order to bring her to life. And I’m missing. Maybe it’s just that I’m still scrambling to remember lines. Maybe it’s just that she’s not a part of me yet. Either way, I’m falling short of what she needs for people to take her seriously, and to see her as more than just a baby stealing, uber conservative, Obama impeaching hard ass. This is the toughest role I have ever tackled, and I still feel like I look like this…


When what I am aiming for is closer to this…



Anyhow, until I can lose the “I don’t know what happens next” derp face, that’s where I am. She needs more, and I have to find it.

Here! Enjoy random picture of my child. He turned 6 months old yesterday!