Break a Leg

Editor's Note: Sorry, I realize this isn't Wednesday, but due to the video being released late, Jennifer's blog was pushed forward and so was Jimmy's. Jimmy's will be up tomorrow.

Thanks!

-The Management

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So...people want to hear about my feelings, eh?  I got a lot.  I got a lot of feelings.

Currently, I'm feeling tired.  It's tech week for Taming of the Shrew.  This means I wake up everyday around 6:30am  because my internal clock is whacked.  Then I lie there until about 7:25, at which point I fall asleep for 10 minutes.  Then I wake up again panicing that I've slept through my alarm again.  I lie there until 8:00 when my alarm goes off.  I then hit the snooze button and lay there for another 9 minutes.  Finally, I'll get up, grab the nearest clean thing to wear in reach, and stuble off to the bathroom for my daily ablutions.  I generally leave the house around 8:40, depending on how long I 1.) deign to just stand in the shower and let the water run over my head, or 2.) have to wait for the water to stablize at a temperature I am comfortable with bathing in.

I get to work around 8:50, and maybe get toast, coffee, and/or juice from the local cafe.  Then I sit there in front of my computer for about 8 hours trying to decifer customer requests and orders placed by coworkers in order to make some sort of art out of, usually, nothing but some vague notion of what the world is supposed to look like.

I break the monotony with several devices.  Break a Leg, reading email, playing Kingdom of Loathing, having lunch, quoting movies with coworkers, or just listening to my ipod turned way down through only one ear phone. 

Despite this riot of activity, I'm feeling pretty bored in my work.   I need to find something else to do.  But that takes time: something I currently have very little of. 

Then, after I'm done I drive for anywhere between 45 minutes and 1 hour 15 minutes to get to the theater.  Now, let me just say that I don't really enjoy driving.  First: you're just sitting there for as long as it takes you to get wherever you're going.  That's boring.  In traffic, it's not just boring, it's mind-numbing.  Next, you could die at any time due to somebody else not paying attention, or you not paying attention, or some mechanical malfunction, or any number of other reasons.  That's scary.  Thirdly, there's all these laws you're supposed to follow.  Those suck.  Ok sure, they are supposed to reduce the chance of the afore-mentioned accidents from happening, but some of them are just dumb.  Like carpool lanes.  I know these are supposed to encourage more people to carpool, but all they really doing is creating one less lane for all the other people to use.  I think if we're going to have that lane, then the cars with two or more passengers should HAVE to use it.  But no, for the most part, I see this lane empty, open, and inviting.  Hey, if it isn't being put to the use it's intended for, why can't I help relieve the traffic situation by getting out of other people's ways?  Anyway, the sooner they create matter transportation devices, the better I say.  Beam me up, Scotty.

Finally, I get to the theater, get into costume, and go do a run of the show.  By the time I'm done prancing around like an idot and have my costume off, it's about 10pm.  Now I have to drive BACK for 45 minutes and try not to speed or pass slower cars on the shoulder when they cut me off and the road suddenly changes from 3 lanes to 2 and the state trooper who just pulled me over asks "What's the rush?"  What's the rush? I'm fucking tired is what the rush is.  I want to go home so I can log onto WoW and check my mail before maybe getting in a chapter of reading so my brain can slow down enough to fall asleep so I can maybe get 6 hours of sleep before I have to start all over again. 

So, I'm tired.  Not as tired as the BaL guys are on a more regular basis, I'm sure, but I generally need to get a lot of sleep before I feel rested, and that just ain't happening.  And I'm frustrated because I don't want to work in retail/customer service, but I'm too lazy to get my ass in gear and start submitting head shots, resumes, and voice over demos to every body under the sun on the off chance that they might see my stuff and think "Hey, he's just what we're looking for.  Bring him in!  Sign him up!  Give him some money!"  Because there are a thousand guys out there just like me (well, nobody is quite like me)doing exactly the same thing, and my room's a mess, and my car is a POS, and I'm going bald, and I haven't gotten laid in quite some time, and I could be in better shape, and I think I have a cavity, and things could be a whole hell of a lot better. 

But hey, when couldn't they?  I try to take delight in the little things, always find a reason to laugh, and remember that somewhere out there is a cold beer with my name on it.

Femke, I'll try and get you some more suffering later...maybe the girl who broke my hearth and then became a porn star; or what it's like not being able to run, play soccer, or boogie board anymore; or what it's like to be shunned by a church youth group.  For now, I should probably get back to work.

Happy Jenday!

In a recent blog, my colleague Jimmy Scotch touched on the topic of different acting schools and methods.  Today I'd like to touch what I think acting is, at least in part, at its core.  From the title of the blog, I'm sure you aren't straining over the mystery of where I'm going with this.

What is acting?  It's telling a story.  To entertain, to inform, to inspire...lot's of reasons.  The story itself is the lie (when not a true story).  But a story has no intent.  The story may or may not be true, but that's just because it doesn't know any better.  It's a tool.  What does the hammer know of what it is used to pound?  We tell the stories.  We wield the hammer.

What is acting?  It's playing pretend; playing make-believe.  This is why they're called "plays".  It's putting on another person over yours to help tell your part of the story.  It's doing whatever you can to make somebody else believe whatever you're saying, whether it's actually true or not.

According to dictionary.com, a lie is defined:

If you think about it, most of what you hear and see in theater NEVER ACTUALLY HAPPENED, but the stories are presented in a way to make you believe, just for a moment, that they might be true.  They try to change what some small part of the world looks like so that they will fit better in your mind.  "Ah yes, that belongs there."

And this is where things get interesting.  Normally, people hate being lied to.  Dishonesty is frowned upon across pretty much any culture you can find on earth.  Perhaps even beyond, like the race of aliens in Galaxy Quest.  But then people come to a theater and pay to be lied to: they pay for deliberate untruths.  They want to be fooled!  And so it comes to reason that the best liars are the most popular, and are paid large sums of money to keep lying to people. 

Ok, that last bit isn't necessarily true because nobody is paying us here at Break A Leg large sums of money.  Yet.  And also, there are famous actors who, instead of really having any talent, were either really lucky, or knew the right somebody.

As a kid, I lied about almost everything, for a variety of reasons.  I lied to get out of trouble.  I lied to get attention.  I lied to get out of having to go to school.  I lied to get out of having to do any work.  lied to get candy.  I lied all the time.  I lied, I lied, I lied.

No wait!  I was ACTING!  Many people find the stage early.  I didn't bother with the stage.  Or rather, I made the world my stage and every day was rehearsal.

Now don't get me wrong: I didn't get away with everything.  I got punished a LOT.  This just pushed me to try to be a better liar as opposed to stop lying and try the truth on for a while.  This was largely because, at some point, I had been lying for so long that not even I knew what the truth was anymore.  I just knew how I wanted the world to fit me and took strides to make it so.  I once spent 5 weeks "sick" so I wouldn't have to go to school, and only went back when they threatened to hold me back a year.  And I eventually learned that the truth was a lot easier to deal with in the long run.

Unless people WANT to be lied to.

There are a couple times in my life where I look back and would really rather hadn't had the truth.  I know it's better to have the truth and live with the pain, but sometimes the whole "ignorance is bliss" thing is a really attractive option.

And now I'm an actor.  I pretend to be somebody else.  AM I that other person?  No.  But for a minute, you might think I am.  Liar!  While I am pretending to be that other person, I will tell you a bunch of stuff that happened.  Did they really?  No.  But for a minute, you think they might have.  Liar!  And when I'm pretending to be that other person and telling you all this stuff that happened I am presenting the world differently than it actually is.  Is it really like that?  No.  But for a moment, you might think it is.  Pants on fire!

I mentioned this...well, not a theory...just a point of view really, to a fellow actor of mine and she disagreed and said the point was to tell the truth of the play and the truth of the characters.  I countered that we are trying to make other people to believe that what we're saying is true.  "But I have to find the truth of the character in me so I can help other people see it," she said.  "Are you that character?" I asked. "No." "Then you're lying."  "But she lies within me."  She of course meant that the character resides or rests within her, but  we've been doing Shakespeare, so the habit of taking the meaning of a word and changing it to mean something else has become sort of habitual for us.  In this case I think the word "lies" was one that was too easily turned back on itself.

So what's the difference between the malicious lie done ultimately for personal gain, the little white lie that saves somebody else from hurt, and the grand lie that makes the world seem just for a moment like a different place?

I don't know...I'm still thinking about it.  I think one major thing is this:  The first kind - the greedy kind - is destructive.  They break down trust and make it much harder for anyone to get anything useful done.  I point to our current government officials and let the results of their actions speak for themselves.  The second - seemingly altruistic - are usually harder to recover from when the truth is found.  This again leads to a breakdown of trust, but usually on a much more intimate and personal scale.

The third - change the way you see the world...usually, as related to theater, this is a good thing.  The lies; the stories we tell, are usually meant to encourage and inspire, and for about two hours at a time, make everybody forget about the other kinds of lies, because we know these are not true.  And when the lie is done being told, we can generally have a good laugh about it.  Or, like me after I saw Finding Neverland for the first time, a good cry.  They remind us of the emotions that we may not get to use on a daily basis, and let us bring them out for a bit of an airing.  We have such a wide panoply of emotion that if we were to experience them all the time, we'd go friggin' crazy.  But experienced in moderation is good for getting a little perspective on things.

Happy Jenday!

You ever see somebody who has a lot of nice things and a lot of money and you think to yourself "I am smarter than this person.  There are sacks full of rocks smarter than this person.  What could they posibly be doing that I am incapable of doing that they can afford all this stuff?"

I encounter these people on a daily basis.  I work in retail.

I think I have discovered something of what goes toward putting these people in a higher tax bracket: They are assholes.  They are so unpleasant to have to deal with for any length of time that other people will actually pay them to go away.  The guy who came up with the addage "The customer is always right" either never had to deal with one of these people, or he WAS one of these people.  They have no business prowess that I can discern, other than the ability to make people's lives a living hell. 

Here's an example: We were making some directional arrows for a customer.  Arrows:  Straight line with a point at one end.  Nothing complicated.  When the customer came to pick them up, the saleperson helping this lady, Kevin, in an attempt to be cute, held the arrows pointing in one direction and said "Oops!  We made them pointing the wrong way."  The lady flipped.  She started screaming and demanding a full refund and to see the manager and the first born of each and every employee that has ever been associated with any FastSigns store in the continental U.S. and so on.  Kevin, taken slightly aback and this unexpected response, simply turned the arrows the other way and says "Ma'am...I was kidding."  It took a bit more to difuse the woman and she eventually left with an embarrased grin on her face.

Here's another good one for you: We make a couple different styles of A-frame signs.  Generally, these have a business name, services provided, and an arrow directing people which way they might find such services.  Now, we design these signs so that no matter which direction you are viewing the sign from the arrow will be pointing in the correct direction: i.e.: the arrow on one side is mirrored to the arrow on the other side.  This also means that if you turn the aframe around both arrows will still be pointing in the same direction, although opposite to the direction they were just pointing before you turn the sign around.  We have had people call in and ask that we "fix their signs because we made them wrong".  After finally deciphering what these inarticulate mushheads were talking about, we usually come up with a very complicated and technically involved possible solution: Turn the sign around. Some people will STILL argue that this obviously revolutionary idea will not work because they "know what they ordered".  Then somebody, usually an assitant or a five-year-old kid will turn the sign around and show our patron that yes: it was, just that simple.  These conversations generally end, suddenly and somewhat abbreviated, with a click. 

And these people make way more moeny than I do.

So, why am I dealing with these people making just enough to live on, when I could be exploring all the fun of a 6 digit income?  Why do I settle for less than it may be actually possible for me to achieve?  Why do I prance around like an idiot at the end of Yuri's strings?

Oh, that's easy, I'm lazy.  But it's a very specialized kind of lazy.  Anyone that works for 14 hours a day isn't lazy.  It's possible that they just aren't directed.  But I DO have a direction.  The problem with trying to make a career plan as an actor is that it's like trying to nail water to the wall.  And yet we just keep hammering away, don't we.

No, the reason (at least one of them) I don't just join these mindless self-endulgent muck-dwellers is that I'm not an asshole (not that kind at least).  I don't think the suffering of others justifies my personal gain.  There is a part of my soul that demands that life be something more than a biting, kicking scramble for the top of the middle heap.  It would be nice if I could get paid to do the things I love to do (Good luck in L.A., guys!) but until that day, I think I'll have to pick the balance of doing what I enjoy doing and maybe trying to enrich the lives of others (through prancing around like an idiot, among other things) instead of hording all I can before I die.

And your dictionary.com word of the day is:

sesquipedalian \ses-kwuh-puh-DAYL-yuhn\, adjective:
1. Given to or characterized by the use of long words.
2. Long and ponderous; having many syllables.

Happy Jenday, everybody!

I feel very fortunate to have found the group of people that I was meant to be with.  Many people speak of finding that one special someone - the perfect match for them.  I say: why limit yourself to just one person?  I want a whole bunch of the perfect people!  A gang.  A horde.  A Crew!  I want a gaggle of friends that will not only accept my depravities and idosyncracies, but will also encourage and participate in them.  Not only that, they will come up with schemes of their own that i can participate in.  I don't want to be a better person.  I want friends that will make me feel better about being a total idiot.

And no, I'm not talking about my beloved Break A Leggers.  While we did have a sword fight on government property and almost got shot as a result, they are generally too busy to participate in such shenanigans.  Also, their tendency to want to curb my over-enthusiastic spasms of "creativity" isn't quite the direction I tend to want to flail in.

No, the group of people I refer to are my pirate crew.  A grander flock of reprobates I can't believe exists.  And what makes this group of people so fabulous?  One word: Themes.

That's right.  When we get together to hang out, we don't just gather at some pre-determined locale and while away the time with petty jabber of ecent activities.  No!  We show up in style and make everybody wish they could hang out with us.  Or hang out like us.  Or something.  Several examples of this spring readily to mind...

The first, I was, sadly, not privy to observe/experience/participate in, but I saw some of the preliminary work and some of the results, and was, if not surprised, then seriously jealous I couldn't go.  There is an annual event called "The Labrynth Ball".  Remember the movie The Labrynth?  Well, imagine a party where everybody is dressed up, not like characters from the movie, but like characters that might exist in that world.  You can see pictures from years past here: http://www.labyrinthmasquerade.com/masquerade2007/gallery.html Lots fantasy stuff, lots of pirates, lots of other cool stuff.  Well, my friends Scott and Nick MADE steampunk ghostbuster costumes and their wives MADE self-luminescent, Dickensian ball gowns, and they all paraded around that way.  I don't have any pictures yet because they didn't get many pictures themselves.  They were largely occupied with having their pictures taken by and with everybody else.  Just imagine a 6'4" guy with long hair wearing a top hat with gears on the side that he would wind up occasionally, and a vest and bow tie.  On his back is a large pack constructed mostly of brass with the stove pipe over his left shoulder flickering with internal candel light while the pipe over his right shoulder lets off the occasional puff of smoke. In his hand, connected to the pack-contraption via some rubber tubing, are some more brass pipewroks with various gauges and a lever (pronounced "LEE-ver"), which when pulled causes a blast of whitish gas to expell from the business end of the pipe.

This is all very "you had to be there", which I wasn't , but that doesn't mean it wasn't awesome. 

What I WAS there for, however, was Gail's birthday (Scott's wife).  One of the reasons I was there was that I didn't have rehearsal or a shoot or anything to do that night.  Another reason is that I am a very good friend of Gail's and she invited me to the party, as friends often do.  The other reason I was there was because the party was at my house.  As I mentioned before, we, as a group, are fond of themes.  And what was Gail's birthday theme?  English.  ANYTHING English.  I.E, everybody was supposed to dress as somebody you might find in England and speak with (their best  attempts at) an Englsih access.  Additionally, we had cucumber sandwiches, jammie dodgers, tiny British flags, and drank from a tea cup and saucer.  Granted, it was rum we we're drinking from the tea cup and saucer, but at least we held our pinkies out.  I mean, there are standards.

As you may have noticed in Episode 12, I have a bit of a beard going.  I've been growing it since February in preparation for Taming of the Shrew.  My goal is to eventually be able to braid my beard.  This makes Yuri cringe.  You may ask yourself "Why the hell are you doing that?"  The answer is as simple as can be, and in fact, quite similar to that age old question "Why do dogs lick their balls?"  Because they can, Billy.  Because they can.  And because I can.  Grow a beard long enough to braid, that is.  Not...the other thing.  That would be impressive, but...just...no.

ANYWAY...because of the awesomeness of my fantastic facial folicles, my friends have taken to calling my Lord Fancybeard on occasion and speak longingly of the day when they will be able to tie ribbons in it.  This nom de guer inspired me as to the costuming choice for Gail's Britstrvaganza.  I had planned to find a smoking jacket and cravat, and walk around smoking a pipe all night and talking through my teeth.  However, life, as it often does, had other plans. 

I had rehearsal the day of the party and had planned to go costume searching as soon I was free.  As I was driving downtown in an effort to fulfill my quest, what do I see, but a golden beacon signaling me hither: a divine providence that I ws on the correct and holy path.  That's right: a costume sale.  I had to circle the block twice to find parking, but nothing is ever easy, even divine providence.  As I perused the merchandice I quickly became disheartened, for there was no smoking jacket to be found.  I scowered the tables, I ransacked the racks, I went spelunking in bargain bins...but to no avail. 

Then, just when it seemed all hope was lost, something blue caught my eye.  This was destined to be one of those moments when you find exactly what you needed even though it wasn't at all what you were looking for.  It was perfect.  It was magnificent.  It was realtively affordable.  And it would live up to the title of "Lord Fancybeard" better than any stupid smoking jacket.  In such apparrel, I could truly be Master of the Heatherton...

I have gotten way too carried away here.  This is what happens when I have nothing to do.  Anyway...that's Scott on the left, with the hat I mentioned earlier, and yes: that's an inflatable moose head on the wall.

Happy Jenday, folks!

  So, I've been watching the season finale with increasing excitement and anticipation as I know all of you have.  And I must say that I cannot WAIT for what comes next.  We've alredy seen some pretty cool special effects, i.e. Yuri talking to himself, the baby disappearing as the car drives by, etc.  Well, let me tell you, my friends: this is only the begining.  I won't, of course, give any details because that would just ruin the surprise, but I'm as giddy as a little school girl. 

  There's something else I'm giddy about: Shakespeare.  As I've mentioned once or twice I will be doing a pirate-themed version of Taming of the Shrew this summer with a local community theater.  This is great for me because, as you know, I'm a pirate.  Ok, I don't actually work on a ship or steal government treasure, but there is a lot of drinking and debauchery. 

  The part I'm playing is Grumio, which is not a large part as far as lines are concerned, but he is the sidelick to the main character, which means I spend quite a lot of time on stage without much to say.  Which means me doing what I do best: chewing up scenery and generally upstaging the hell out of everybody.  There is a tenant in acting that many directors have, which is this: "During the rehearsal process, it is better to give too much and have to be brought down a peg or two than to never give enough."  There are many times where it is difficult to push yourself so far that you need to be wrangled in.  However, in this case, I can almost guarantee that the director will have to virtually anchor me to the stage and bind my hands and legs, and STILL have to put me behind a wall to stop me from stealing scenes.  There is a reason they are called "plays" and I intend to illustrate that point with every trick, every whacky notion, every comedic fiber of my being.

  This propensity to induce more physical comedy is, if I were to take artistic license in my writing and I don't see why I shouldn't, the bane of Yuri's existence.  Since we started working on Break A Leg about two years ago, Yuri has had to consantly admonish me with the fact that "we're not acting for stage here, it's tv: less is more."  Which I find terribly boring, but he assures me is funnier.  It's his show, so I'll let him go ahead and think that.  Then, there are rare moments when he will say "Ok, Chad, go ahead and act naturally."  He means to act in what I consider to be a "natural" way, not what other people would consider "natural".  This means hamming it up, being overly dramatic, and mostly idiotic.  Hooray for type casting.

   Anyway, the upshot of all this is that the director of Taming of the Shrew has asked me if I would like to come talk about Break A Leg to her Professional Acting Class, which she teaches at local college.  I find this slightly ironic because while we here at Break A Leg act as professionals and produce a product of professional quality; and while I have, in my career, acted for various professional theater/film/tv companies, I don't consider myself to actually be a professional.  According to dictionary.com, profession is defined in one way as "following an occupation as a means of livelihood or for gain".  And while I do occasionally get paid for the work I do, often in snacks, I am in no way able to make any kind of extended livelihood from my work in that area.  Furthermore, I have taken roughly four acting classes.  Take into consideration that the average Bachelor of Fine Arts program requires somewhere around thirty.  So, for me to stand in front of a bunch of people that probably have more technical knowledge of acting than I do and talk to them about acting seems a bit...silly.  But, I do have one thing going for me they don't: I knew Yuri first and I was just the idiot he was looking for.

  The point is that because of the professional appearance of Break A Leg, we are getting these kinds of offers and because of our professionalism, we are getting a lot of attention, which is great even if (heaven forbid) Break a Leg doesn't continue in the future.

And don't forget to "Ask Jennifer" something today!

Chad "Jennifer is not gay" Yarish