Dear Diary, That’s kind of what this feels like, but that makes it all the more cathartic, now, doesn’t it? Hmmm. My life is just slowing down again, which is good. October has been a bit of a whirlwind for me, and reading everyone’s ‘submissions’ to the Gossip Mill has been so refreshing. I have enjoyed that we actually have some dialogue going on. And I have also enjoyed hearing from people who, up until now, have been readers rather than contributors. So, having that said, I’ll give you a day in my life that allowed me to reflect on some of this discussion and pretty much sums of things that have been going on in my life as of late.
Oct 25, 2002 My alarm goes off at 6:20 a.m. I’m off work today, but I’m getting up at the same time. I find it is much easier for me to wake up at the same time every day than it is to mix it up. My body works best this system, whether I like it or not. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m getting out of bed. It mostly means I am lying there, thinking, and watching the clock until the last possible second. The flight is at 11 a.m. out of Midway, and there’s the ‘security’ factor, so if I leave here by 8:30 a.m I will get to the airport at 9:30 ….the Window guys…I better get dressed, they will probably come early…Got to finish packing….Got to move stuff away from the windows…So, I get up and begin. They are replacing all the windows in my apartment building, and today they are doing mine.
Okay. I am dressed. I am packed. I have moved stuff away from the windows. Workmen are waiting outside to come traipsing through with their equipment. I look outside to see if “Don” is waiting for me, so far the coast is clear. I find the head workman in the back of my apartment and I explain the situation. “I know you will be working in my apartment today, I am getting ready to leave. I have to catch a flight out but I need you to tell your crew not to be careless about letting anyone in my apartment who isn’t working on windows. My neighbor has been bothering me and he doesn’t have permission to be in around or near my apartment.” “Your neighbor loco, eh?” he replies twirling his finger around his ear. “Si, loco! Tell your workmen. Gracias.” He introduces himself as Ziggy and assures me that the crew will not let anyone in the apartment.
My “loco” neighbor is a guy who moved in next door, early September. It wasn’t until later that I found out via the asst prop manager that he’s living with his two invalid parents until he gets back on his feet. He’s about late 30s, beer belly, thick poofy blonde hair (no offense, Dave) - in layers like he’s growing out his mullet. He was recently laid off from his job due to some kind of a ‘misunderstanding.’ He almost never leaves the apartment premises and he’s decided to make a game of stalking me. No, really. At first, I just thought it was strange that he ALWAYS happened to be out on our porch when I was coming or going. Then, I discovered it was because he has been watching me out his window and has made a point to memorize my schedule. I ran several ‘tests’ on him just to make certain I wasn’t imagining this. I even caught him ‘listening’ once outside my door to see if I was getting ready to leave. He doesn’t say really anything, just watches- which makes it all the creepier. I complained to the asst prop manager who told me this guy’s is also creeping out the other single female in our building, Mindy. Anyway, this is only the tip of the iceberg regarding this saga. To make a long story shorter, this evolved into him following me on foot or by car to the el train, and more recently, leaving me a note that any fourth grader could’ve written, on how he’d like to “get to know me better.” I’ve mixed up my schedule, am coming and going from my back door now, always with pepper spray in hand, and there is a possible eviction in the works on account of his bad credit…(he was a last minute write in on his parent’s lease) It’s actually quite complicated, but I think you get the gist.
Today, I’m leaving out the back door with my suitcase. And today, I am ‘unarmed’ because I’m going to the airport. But I have to walk past the front of the building to get to the el and, aha: There he is, my friendly freak, just watching. I scurry to the opposite side of the street. Thankfully, today he doesn’t seem to be following me, just… watching, and he sees I have a suitcase.
On the el. I’m closer to O’Hare, but my flight is out of Midway, so it’s a longer trip that requires a transfer. For the next hour or so my thoughts turn from that crazy neighbor to Jazzercise. I taught my last class last night. Fees for next year (insurance and franchise) were due Oct 31st and I opted not to renew. To keep certified I’ve been teaching a mandatory eight classes a month as a sub-instructor on top of my 40 hour work week. I’m in better physical shape than I’ve been in my life, mind you that doesn’t mean thinnest, just fittest. But it has been yet another stress at the expense of a social life. I had to call it quits and this has had some students and instructors in a bit of a tizzy. As flattering as that is, Jazzercise is not what I want to do as a career, so I decided to go back to only being a student. This way, I don’t have to memorize 13 song-routines for class, just mirror. And I can get back to actually enjoying exercise.
I am at Midway, doing the airport thing. Turns out I’m so early I have a minute to look at my script, which is good, because I haven’t really, for nearly a year and a half. I was cast in this film in April of 2001. I play the girl friend who becomes girlfriend to the main character Albert who’s a quadriplegic. It’s a comedy, actually. Takes place in college and is to be filmed at Wright State. I think it’s easier to describe it as a disabled Ferris Buehler – where his real problem isn’t his disability, but rather his lack of responsibility. Aaron A. likes to say it’s a cross between Ferris Buehler and My Left Foot. Whatever. Dan, the director/writer (who’s also a quadriplegic) is flying three of us in to Xenia, OH for a read-thru, and an investor meeting. Pending funding, start date on actual shooting is March 1st. I’m drinking shit airport coffee, looking over the script and keeping an eye out for the two other actors that are supposed to accompany me: Mike and Jake.
After the audition way back when, Mike pursued me relentlessly for a date. I caved. Twice. Once because he had a copy of the script to give me and wanted to do so over drinks, and then again because he asked me to see Memento at a time when I was dying to see it, and everyone else I knew either saw it or had other plans. Needless to say, Mike is less-than-desirable as a boyfriend prospect. Plays my brother in the film. Still waiting for the day that I can answer the question, “How’s your love life?” with something other than, “Hmmm, let’s see…the other day I was hit on by a 20-year-old at Burger King.”
Mike and Jake arrive just as the plane is boarding, to my relief. The two of them have been friends ever since they did an industrial for McDonald’s a few years back. Jake has been working as a full-time actor for stuff here and there. Mike has a sales job selling something, not drugs or used cars (though I can see him selling cars), something to do with education and works regularly as an actor. They pretty much spend most of their time talking about the stock market and what they’re investing in, that is, between nodding off our a one hour flight to Columbus. We briefly discuss whether or not we think Dan will ever raise enough money to actually do this film. When we get there, the assistant director, Jon picks us up and we have lunch ‘on him’. This is the most professional I have felt as an actor, someone is buying my lunch and it’s not pizza and pretzels- it’s a grilled sub sandwich and fries, but still… All three guys continue to talk about stocks, Mike & Jake using as much lingo as they can to sound like big shots. They do not include me in the conversation, which was probably for the best, sinceI would’ve told them their money would be better spent in a mutual funds for the next five years or so, anyhow. But what do I know? After all, I’m a girl. They think they are impressing me. That is, until they find out that I work for a private equity investment firm. Suddenly, they’d rather talk football.
We meet up at Dan’s house in Xenia (a.k.a. B.F.-Ohio, known as the bicycle capital of the Midwest). Soon, the other Mike arrives. He’s originally from KY, but has been stage managing a show in NYC) He plays one of our college friends in the film. He’s far more interesting, and humble, than the other two- who are eating up that we are being announced to everyone as ‘The Chicago Actors’ as if we are even known in Chicago. This is mostly for the benefit of the investors, but Jake and Mike#1, are eating up the big fish/small pond roles. One of Dan’s occupational therapists arrives at the house to talk with Dan and Jake about the specifics of what kind of spinal injury the character has- whether or not he’s a C3 or a C4 and if he’s a C3, what kind of variety of movement will he have in fingers, if any, and ways you can move your body without muscles (like a machine with levers and pulleys)- all very fascinating. So, they determine that he’s a CP injury and most likely a C3 with some movement in at least one hand. I am resisting all temptation to comment to the effect of,” well, at least as a CP3, he’s still human, unlike a C-3-P-O.” But these people don’t know my college buddy Ross, or that this is what Ross would’ve said. We begin reading through some scenes from the film and all the while, we are being filmed. Yep, they’re doing a documentary of the making of…This reality television really is all the rage, you know. And everything was going fine until Jake starts asking the director what his motivation is for every line he speaks! Everyone, including the director, becomes somewhat frustrated with this. I fear Jake, though he is very talented and more than capable of the comedic material, is wanting to turn this comedy into his Oscar-winning, dramatic performance of a young-quadriplegic. Dan just had to keep telling him, it’s a comedy…he’s just goofing off, but Jake is wanting to do all this emotional stuff. Not that there isn’t emotional stuff in the film, but not in the scenes Jake was asking about. A guy named Dave is filming everything off and on, and I am praying he will make it through the editing of this documentary without boring himself to death. Luckily there are smoke breaks. I am glad for them, even though I don’t smoke. Mike #2 goes out to smoke with Jake, Mike#1, and Dave. I say to Mike #2, “you smoke, too?” Because this is the first smoke break he’s participated in tonight. He replies, “ Yeah, I just started, in fact, this summer.” He’s 22 years-old, and just started smoking. “Well, they say it’s never too late to start.” I reply with smirking sarcasm and make my way inside- thankful that I was able to quit my Misty menthol addiction (thanks, Sha) cold-turkey, sophomore year of college (he,he).
Dinner. T.G.I. Fridays. Beer and blackened chicken-alfredo. Jon’s buyin’. I feel I’m in the big leagues now. This is what it’s all about. From the way we are eating, you’d think we haven’t eaten for two weeks. Like pigs to the troth. Isn’t that always the way, with actors? Jake and Mike#1 are ready to stay up all night and meet some of Xenia’s finest at the local bar. I can see it in their eyes, they’re lookin’ for some honey, so I finish my meal and my ONE beer and look for an escape. Mike#2, who I’ve determined is far more likeable than the two “Chicago Actors,” offers to drive me back to the hotel. I accept.
I’m in for the night and exhausted. I miss my own bed already, even though I feel safer at the Beavercreek Econo-lodge than I do my apartment these days. I think back to a time when I might have viewed all of this as more thrilling than it is now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the opportunity to act in this film- if and when it finally does happen- but, I feel like I’m missing out on something else. Not necessarily something better, but something different. I feel very isolated from people much of the time. I feel people see glimpses, but no one really knows me anymore. I don’t have the passion for acting I once had, and this doesn’t bother me. I am not depressed, in fact, I am less depressed than I’ve ever been, but I’m not happy either- just restless.
Once in a public restroom, an older woman once overheard that I was an actor. She told me that she, too, used to act and pursued it for several years. I asked her if she missed it. She said, not at all. She said that when she was acting she enjoyed putting on a character more than being herself. And when she grew up, she realized she liked herself better than the characters and didn’t need to be them anymore. I recently read a quote from Jamie Lee Curtis that was along that exact sentiment. I can relate. This is where I am now, I think. People get into acting for all sorts of reasons. I used to really enjoy being someone else, now I don’t as much. But I do still enjoy stories, and especially stage plays and screenplays. I’ve started to submit some of the stage plays that I’ve written to various theatres and have several more ideas for scripts. Who knows? I may branch out to write a novella, much like the one I just finished writing here.
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