I know, I know. I really should have taken him down already. Christmas was what… a month ago now? But there’s something so sweet about a little Christmas tree, decorated with simple ball ornaments and tinsel. I purchased him a few weeks before the holidays, due in great part to the large amount of presents that had begun arriving at my apartment. My mom was clearly doing her part to make our family’s first Christmas away from home a memorable experience, so I felt a obligated to pull my own weight.
It has been six months since I set out in my perpetually dusty Ford Escape, traversing the West with Ten, like the first explorers. Six months since I sunk my toes into the warm sand and watched as the Laguna waves crawled over my feet. One hundred and eighty days since I landed in a sunny spot in Pasadena, California and began turning a small, three-bedroom apartment into a home.
“If youse wants to learn da secret of “Hal” Cappone’s whereabouts be in da “Back Room” at S. P. Keasy’s Place Twenty-third street and Michigan at 7:00 pm tonight.
Refreshments’ll be soived.
Don’t tell nobody! Be dere!”
A colorful assortment of work schedules are currently spread across my kitchen table. I had to go back and check that the numbers were right for my payroll accounts (since the “new girl” still doesn’t have her clock-in codes to take care of all that). What did I discover? Last week, from Wednesday morning until late Saturday night, I worked a total of 48 hours.
I opened my Facebook account to find that I had a new message waiting for me. It was from Anayo, one of the guys I had met working on set a few weeks ago. He had told me about a project that he was going to be directing, so I wasn’t entirely surprised when I read his note: “how is your schedule looking like tomorrow? would you like to help me out during my auditions and help coordinate my actors coming in?”
Are you an actress?
I have been asked this question at least two dozen times since my arrival in Los Angeles. I have answered in a variety of ways, from a flat “No” to hemming and hawing about my experience in theater.
But I’ve learned that it is just best to say: “Yes, I am.”
Okay, so this post is just a quick “life update”. I love writing about all my adventures in LA, but I know some of you are concerned with whether I have a roof over my head! Here’s what’s happening:
Ever see that episode of Seinfeld, in which Kramer goes to the Tony Awards show as a seatfiller? In a wave of excitement, he gets whisked up to the stage by a group of Tony winners moving through his row. Suddenly, he’s not only surrounded by celebrities, but he becomes one when he receives his very own Tony!
We walked into a room from the seventies. The walls were covered with neon panels, accented by Christmas lights and hippie-style flower cutouts. For all its cheesiness, though, the room was vibrating with energy. People were being ushered to their seats by a swarm of red-coated assistants. The camera crew was hurrying into place. Several interns, distinguishable by their youth and general fluster, were running back and forth across the stage. Then, as if to complement this picture, a man in a deep purple, velour blazer came out on stage to greet us.
I was the first one to get to the park.