Month: January 2014

Well now, my trip on the Bipolar Express has finally come to an end and with it comes the end of my experience with the Conservatory and the beginning of a deep, dark valley of despair and the unknown.

Wow, that got dark quick.

I am, actually, a bit down about being finished with the Conservatory.  In the same way I was sortof down when I was finished Humber.  Because now I don’t have any pre-determined path to follow on a regular basis to achieve a certain goal, or conclusion.  It’s like I’m back at the beginning again.

Chris Martin gets it.

If you’re reading this, maybe you can comment on some tips and tricks you give yourself to stay motivated and to keep creative?  I know, in the Winter months especially, it can be particularly difficult to come home from your day job and feel like working on creative endeavours.  Most of the time lately, I’ve just felt like curling up in my blanket and watching a Sherlock marathon.  (How has it taken me this long to watch that show, seriously?)

On the plus side, I have gone out and done a couple stand-up sets now, so that’s starting up again.  I participated in a show this weekend, an open-mic strictly for ladies at Free Times Café (try their brisket poutine, you’ll plotz.)  Put on by none other than than the fabulous Chicka Boom hosts; Jess Beaulieu & Laura Bailey, the night proved performer after performer of solid, fierce material in one of the most supportive evenings I’ve seen.  Maybe you see a trend here? Catherine McCormick runs an LGBTQ/Women only room = super supportive.  Chicka Booms runs a ladies-only room = super supportive.  All other rooms = hurry the fuck up and finish what you’re saying so I can get on and do my 5 minutes because they’re better than yours, and I’m more important than you, AAAAAAAH ANGER, HATRED AND RAGE!!!

Ok, not true.  Not all other rooms, but these ones do tend to be incredibly supportive and positive.  Not the material; the material ranged from dark and tragic, to adorable cat-related tales and all throughout, making a few dirrrrty stops at one-night standsville and period-town along the way.  From relatable to extraordinary, it was just a damn good night of comic entertainment and I’m glad I spent the evening there instead of streaming the Grammys.

***

On a different note, I got my first call-back EVER the other day.  So clearly my commercial acting career is taking off at incredibly fast speeds!  (SOC auditions are the BEST, amirite?)

Other than that, I intend to  keep plugging away.  I wish we could open this up as a discussion for other comics/performers making their way in the biz, so please share the posts & your own experiences.  Let’s get the conversation going!

In the meantime, I’m off to Netflix to watch my distant relative keep Cumberbatch in line.   I mean, I’m off to clean the dishes, Mom. 

Ok, so if ever a casting director comes to somewhere to speak to you for free, and you’re really interested in getting into commercials or TV, and maybe her son runs one of the biggest casting houses in the city, and maybe you have some questions you want to ask her, but you also want her to maybe consider you for future projects, or maybe pass your name onto her son for future casting opportunities, maybe, oh I don’t know, maybe… TELL HER YOUR NAME!  

A tidbit of advice brought to you by someone who has only gone to very few auditions. Take it or or leave it.

2nd Audition of the year, folks.  Not too bad considering we’re not even into January’s double-digits.  I wonder at what point this process will begin to get easier, or at least, less nerve-wracking?  I thought this would be a good role for me, it asked for a bit of tom-boy-ish-ness, and I mean, come on, I was an army cadet for 7 years, I’ve got a bit of that in me, no doubt, but why is it so difficult to bring it up on command?  Especially when there’s someone else in the room sucking out everyone’s energy asking the world to pay attention to “them”?  You know, those people?

The kind of person who, like, your friend would say “I just got engaged!” and immediately afterwards they would chime in with an: “OH MY GOD, I HAVE A HANG NAIL AND MY LIFE IS GOING TO END!  EVERYBODY PAY ATTENTION TO ME!”

attention-whore-nightclub

You know that kindof person?  What are they called again?  Oh right.  Actors.

Anyway, despite the attention-hog, I think the audition went well.  I’m beginning, slightly, to feel more comfortable, and like I have a right to be there.  I don’t know why, maybe because I didn’t go to acting school, but I always sortof feel like I’m imposing on some world or universe I’m not supposed to be a part of; seeeeeecrets.  I think the audition room should be a more welcoming environment, acknowledging and encouraging optimal talent and possibility, rather than petty competitiveness and oneupmanship.  But what do I know?  I’m just a silly comedian.

Speaking of welcoming, I attended the 5th Anniversary of Natasha Boomer’s community-building weekly Wheel of Improv tonight at Comedy Bar.  (And it took me less than 5 minutes to get there.  OMG Love my new apartment!)  I’ll admit I haven’t gone to that show as much as I would have liked.  The last time I went, it was still in the JCB and I had only begun to crush on my now 3 years & counting man-beau (because that’s what improv is all about, amirite ladies???) …and then there was that one time a few weeks ago at BGS’ Holiday party, and there were treats, and treats are fun. (because that’s what improv is all about, amirite ladies???)

“Wheel” is such a positive space; there’s a variety of different levels of experience, and the more people play together, the better we all get, collectively.  So, cheers to 5 years of that sexy sexy Wheel and I hope, especially now that I’m so close, I will motivate my own ass to attend more frequently.

If I lived in Mississauga, I would still be driving home right now.   (What?)

Bloor_Street_West_Street_Sign1

Nothing says “let’s start fresh this year,” like moving every single piece of your shit.

…Uhh… into a new apartment, not like, just reorganizing it, or moving everything you own one centimetre to the left, just to see if it messes with your chi.

This is how I’ve chosen to begin 2014.  Well, like, the 4th.  At midnight on January 1st itself, I was celebrating at a posh restaurant in Niagara-on-the-Lake with my sibs and that was fun.  But I don’t have the bread to do that all the time, so as of now, I am situated in a tiny apartment on Bloor Street, down the street from things that matter to me, like one of the city’s best comedy venues, a subway station, and a Popeye’s Louisiana Chicken.

My hope for the year is that the proximity to downtown will motivate me to go out and perform more.  Or to stay in and write more. Or to go out and write more.  Or to just do more.

I’m hoping the long Mississauga and before that Etobicoke commute times are over, and with it will come more time to spend working on things I moved to Toronto for in the first place.

So here I am 2014, and I’m right inside Toronto’s bosom.  Inspire me, you crackhead-run whore of a town. And please send over someone with big muscles to help me unpack.

(***Huge shout out for my bf, pops, bro & soon-to-be bro-in-law  for getting me into this tiny little paradise.)