Any progress?

Since my trip to LA I have been asked how the acting is going. Did I have any progress whilst I was there? What next? Did anything life changing happen? And I completely get it. I understand that friends and family are intrigued.  It's a curious business. It's full of unanswerable questions and untangible results. It takes fearless determination and whole hearted acceptance of NOT being in the right place at the right time more often than not. You are going against the grain, the expected, the thing you are meant to do. Sometimes you feel existentially powerful in making the choice to fight for this career and sometimes you feel discernibly weak and insecure for staying in a business that can so easily hurt your soul. If you let it. 

It's hard when people ask you questions that you can only half answer. Or that you cannot answer at all or you fear the answers will be terribly disappointing to the one asking, or worse still, disappointing to yourself.  You could answer with answers that may offend people, that may have people disagreeing with you or answers people find shamefully too honest or too long winded. Answers that sound like justifications or excuses. You want to make sure you don't sound bitter or deluded or disillusioned or mad. Not to yourself, but to the people wanting to know... have you made it yet? Did you get what you have always wanted? Will you never have to work on reception again? Can you buy a house in the hills or fly first class? Are you in a show and have you met Ryan Gosling? Will you still be chasing something? Will you ever not be? Will you give up? When will you give up? What are you willing to sacrifice? Are you happy?

People may not ask these things directly, but they are questions that are hidden in an indirect curiosity that I myself have when I meet people in the industry.  Gosh, often it is all we talk about. We mull over it, discuss it, debate it, digest it. Ask each other a lot of the same questions we ask ourselves. We talk of the disappointing answers we sometimes have to give and we all camp together, one big group of us against the world, sort of in it together in a huddle of madness. Are we happy?

Any progress? Did I have progress in LA? In my career? It's hard to explain to someone that just getting through a day as an actor, can be tough. Not in a 'I'm saving the world' sort of tough. We are not that narcissistic (I swear)... But progress is made just by getting through a day where we may not have acted, we may not have earned money to pay the bills doing the profession we proclaim to be doing. Our day can sometimes just be submitting yourself to castings or finding a class you like or avoiding watching reality TV. The progress I make is sometimes just that of not quitting. Sticking with it. Sometimes progress is just learning to wait and trust and 'be'. Progress is knowing the process and learning to live in it and grow in it and learn from it. Acting is a profession in which you do not have an end goal. There may not be that one big job that changes your life forever. I could go fifty years just working on my craft. Being a jobbing actor. And that would be, should be good enough. To pay the bills with acting money, now wouldn't that be a joy. 

Or would it? 

I want to tell my family and the people that ask and care and want this acting lark for me (possibly more than I do) that tangible, feesable, seeable progress was made. I want to reassure them that the trip was worth while. That I have proof that this was life changing and a step forward. For them. I want to let them know it's OK. Tell them I booked a job, starred alongside Morgan Freeman and that girl from that show. (You know the one? The popular one with those cute freckles) I want so much to tell my mum that it's paying off. So I can see the excitement in her eyes for me, that all this time, and sacrifice and effort has been worth it. I don't want my mum to think I have just been having a jolly. Just eating and hiking for two months. I want her to know that the belief she has had in me for the last thirty years, is not wasted. It is in fact about to pay off. I can take her on that trip to Bali and I can pay her back all the money I owe her. I want to hug her so tight for all the times she ever felt sad when I heard a no. To see the worry disappear from her face because she knows she doesn't have to worry about me calling her up balling because I don't know what I am doing with my life. 

I want to book that job, so I don't have to be a thirty year old working in a hair dresser reception when I don't want to be. So I don't have to ask my boyfriend to cover the rent this month. So I can buy that Zara top. So I can take three months out and write a book, So I can say that all my dreams came true. So I can say, 'See, staying with it, working hard for it, it pays off.' So I can prove to myself that all those times I nearly turned away from it, I can say 'Ahh, see, imagine if you had' 

But the answer (I wish I had booked a job so I could play a great character and do some great acting, for a great director and an amazing production.) It comes far down on my list. Because I spent the last two years getting to act and play and tell stories. I don't have to wait for the phone to ring, or WME to take me on, or Seth Rogan to write me a part, or Shonda Rhymes to put me in her TV show. I don't have to be better, or prettier or skinnier or taller or funnier or more charismatic. More talented, more open, more connected, more wealthy, more free, more 'up someones bum'... I don't have to be more anything. I can be me, right now, with no signed contract in my hand to prove that I have made progress. Not for the people asking. Not for myself. 

I currently feel OK at accepting that I am angry at the industry, the system. I have no answers. Except knowing finally, that what makes me happy, isn't necessarily what I have been chasing this whole time. TBC

If she were completely honest

I pride myself on being an open person. Not necessarily honest at all times, but very rarely do I not wear my heart on my sleeve. Well, I try to always be open with others. I like sharing, mainly because I like people sharing back. I despise small talk and pointless convo, and even if I am not the smartest cookie (because cookies are so smart -_-) I like to debate and talk about things that matter. Sometimes I like to talk about Scarlett Johanssons body in that film where her body looked amazing, and sometimes I like to talk about crap, like if Kim K really did break the internet. I say sometimes, probably a lot. But if I have an opinion on it, I'll talk about it for days. That beats small talk. About the weather and what your doing for work at the moment. Shoot me in the head if you hear me say 'Gosh it's so sunny today'
Which out here, I have said a lot. In LA, there is more small talk than I am used to. And I have been swept in. Because when someone here asks you how your day is, you don't really want to respond with 'Well, I had this audition and it didn't go great, well, it didn't go bad, but I just wasn't feeling it, and they didn't seem to feel it and so now I feel a bit bummed and what is the point in all of this, maybe I should just do something else, maybe acting isn't for me... wait, I am giving the universe bad signals, I do want this, I do want to act, I just don't NEED it, right universe? That's what I am meant to say? If I want it but pretend not to want it too much, all will be well... so yeah, the audition went OK, who knows you win some you loose some, it's in the universes hands' and you look up to said universe and give it a sly little wink like you're both in on the same inside joke and you pray the universe doesn't clock that little pinch of (I really do want to book this job) because, well you know, the universe repels neediness like a boy you're  dating who you have just asked to see three nights in a row... so you look across at the semi stranger, (someone you just met last week for coffee because that's what you do here) and you say 'Yes, my days been great, I mean how could it not, look at the weather, it's so sunny here' and they reply, 'Gosh yes it rains a lot in England doesn't it?' and your in, your off on the small talk train and it's hard to jump off.

Sometimes I want to give all of me. Most of the time I want to give all of me. Then there are times when that is not appropriate. All of me can be annoying, over whelming, boring, too much. But...When your not being yourself, there's a strange sense of misjustice. I feel like I'm cheating myself. Like I'm wasting time in life conning myself and the people around me. But sometimes, I feel the people around me do not help me be myself. I feel suffocated by their intentions or their own ego or their own life issues. And in dealing with their own drama, I feel myself and my ego reacting to it. Not consciously. But subconsciously I feel my soul drain second by second and feel weak with thought process malfunction. And whilst they are dealing with their own issues, I am out here dealing with mine.

All I ever want to be is myself really. I want to be so self assured, so accepting of my own flaws and traits, that I am comfortable to just be 'all of me' at any one time with any person that I meet. And there will always be someone that doesn't like some of you or all of you and still, at the ripe old age of 30, I still find that hard to process. I want to be liked. And I really do feel that most people do. When I hear people say they don't care if Julie likes them, I firstly feel envious of such liberation and then I secondly feel sceptical because often I think that's a protection barrier. Because why would you not want Julie to like you? You don't meet Julie and hope that she doesn't like you. Yes wasting time trying to convince Julie that you're a good person or a funny person or an interesting person or how utterly great you are, is pointless. Probably because if she was to get to know you, the good the bad and the ugly, she might think those things anyways.

I always remember asking a good friend of mine... 'don't you worry if people don't like you', and she replied 'Naahh, if they got to know me they would.' and I never got it. I never understood how someone could be so free spirited about that. So sure that people would like her if they knew her. Which is silly, because I know she was right. If they knew her the way I did, they would love her the way I did. But having that reassurance about your own self... seemed unfathomable. If people got to know me they might see that I don't like sharing food, and that I am selfish at times. They would see that I am over the top and loud and opinionated. That I like talking... a lot. They would hear me be mean sometimes, or that I get defensive or grumpy or bossy. Worst still, they may not approve of my poo jokes. There are a lot of poo jokes. But as I have gotten a bit more self assured, I have started to sort of get what she means. When I meet people, if they are genuine, sincere and openly themselves, I often by pass the flaws, and end up liking them when I get to know them. That same courtesy comes back to you too. When you know someone, and you see why their behaviour is the way it is, often you end up relating to their behaviour, you see why someone might make that inappropriate joke, or come across as arrogant or barely even smile at you. You can empathise with most character traits because we all have them. And often, more often than not, the judgement I make of someone is a reflection of me and my own issues and not the other person. I recognise when I walk away from a person and I feel there was insincerity, It makes me feel like, they didn't trust me enough to be themselves. I sometimes walk away and think 'gosh they were an arrogant cock bucket' and inside I don't like it because it unnerves something in me, that someone doesn't sensor themselves the way I think appropriate. Sometimes people make us feel aways about ourselves or more to the point, we let people affect us and we feel aways. More often than not, If I don't like someone on first meeting it will be because I sensed they don't like me. (Unless they were racist or misogynistic or just dam right rude) But even then, people are who they are because of shit they have going around in their head. And most of the time, its stuff that we have going around in our heads too. We all just deal with it differently.

I worked with some people who I really did not jell with. I found them to be insincere and hurtful. Arrogant and so unsympathetic, that I thought they may be on the verge of psychopathic. I could not relate to them. Everything they did, every bad feeling they made me feel, I took to heart. I took it so personally, I would go home and cry because it felt apparent they didn't like me, and yet they would sort of pretend to and there was this mist of nastiness that resided over me daily. Once I stepped back, it became obvious that they hadn't liked me. It was hard to deal with (I am not one of those, ahhh who cares if they don't like me, I don't like them) sort of people. (Because I am just not one of those people.) Looking back though, I see that It made sense why they didn't like me. I did not appease them. I did not fit into the expectation they had of me and in return they didn't accommodate my needs. My need for them to be genuine and sincere. I was angry a lot, frustrated a lot and not giving the best version of me. Probably, I was the worst version of me. They felt that I didn't like them, I didn't listen to them, I didn't agree with them, so therefore they didn't really like me, and vice verser. We all played this game of pretend, because it's work. That's what you do. And it took me a long time to understand why they despised me so much. And when I realised why, it all felt so trivial. They didn't really know the real me. Because they were never genuine enough to warrant getting the real me on a daily basis. I didn't feel comfortable being me, wholeheartedly because I didn't trust them not to take the bad traits in me and use them against me. But what ended up happening was my ego would get all defensive. I was defending myself against other egos and we were in a full on ego war.

Deep down, I don't believe they are bad people as neither am I.(most of the time) We all want to be liked. We all want to fulfil an ego based expectation, whether it be to be the best one, the powerful one, the funny one, the kind one, the trust worthy one, the knowledgeable one, the interesting one... and if you meet people who have the same wants, you battle. But under all of that, don't we just want the person we meet to get us. To empathise with us, relate to us, connect with us. I am OK to meet someone I don't do those things with, hence I only have a handful of people who I trust with ALL of me, warts and all. But in every meet up I have, I want to find something in common, something we can laugh at together, something real to talk about. When I meet someone, it's not like I am praying 'Dear universe, I hope we talk about the weather today' I want to meet people I can be honest with, and who I can trust with all of me. Those people do not come around often, but the more honest I am, the more you realise who to talk to about that shit audition and who maybe to just discuss the weather forecast with.

Honestly... 

I don't like sharing food.

Julie is not a real person. 

I have never watched 'Back to the Furture'

I wasn't into Michael Jackson 

I wish I had tried harder at school

I wish I had been less obnoxious at school

I hate washing up cutlery

I cannot stand men in cuban heels

I can't stand football

I have a hairy belly button ( I take care of it) 

I sometimes don't shave for more than two months

I think about food vs getting fat way more than I should

I like Millionaire Matchmaker 

Spice Girls will always be my jam 

I say things like 'be my jam'

Leaving on a jet plane...

Don't know when I'll be back again.

I've said my goodbyes, I've eaten and drunk myself into a coma, nearly. I've done the shitty prep. The tax return, the ironing, the washing, the bank transfers... Hair torn out, sleepless nights and I'm done. I'm nearly ready. 

I've dreamt of this sort of trip for a really long time. Since I was eleven and I played Blousy in the school play, I've wanted to go to Hollywood. And then I'm at the airport... And I can't feel anything. Well, none of the feelings I thought I might. I take a deep breath. Remember this moment. Be in this moment. Pinch myself, fart, do something to recall this exact moment where I am sitting on a plane, about to fly across the ocean, to another country, for three months. 

We can tweet tweets and state status's. Post pics on instagram of how amazing life is right now. Because it is. It's freaking amazing. But... Honestly. This moment suddenly feels bigger than me. Suddenly the intensity of disappearing for three months, spending a lot of money following a dream that is so fragile and unsteady, being away from friends and family for longer than I've ever been away from them ever... Suddenly I think I may have not just farted, but sharted instead.  

The moment feels bigger than me, because it is far beyond anything I can comprehend, but also, so right and obvious that it would be part of my journey, that essentially, I feel like I am dreaming. People keep saying things like 'good luck superstar' and 'see you when you've made it' and part of me cannot process the thoughts. I know people are rooting for me. Excited for me. But I feel pressure. Pressure to come back with a star on the Hollywood walk of fame, pressure to be in Titanic 2, pressure to be on cribs, or become bessies with Kimye... Yes I said Kimye. I have a slight panic... and then, I have a reality check. This is just about having an adventure and experiencing a life I wanted to experience since I was eleven in Bugsy Malone. It's just a little part of my journey. A snap chat of an existence based around a dream I had of heading to the land of opportunity. It is just a stepping stone onto whatever else is next in my life. 

I could meet Brad Pitt for christ sake and become his third wife, hey... Brandgelina might even adopt me.

As I came to the end of my adventures in LA the last time, I reflected on the five weeks that had been, and shit myself that that five weeks had been and gone in a flash. We plan and prep and look forward to such events and more often than not concentrate on the lead up far more than the actual event itself. Always forward thinking, always planning for the future. Even whilst I have been here the last couple of days I have caught myself a few times, wondering what it is going to be like when I arrive home. I've had to stop myself from the panic that I know may ensue. The sheer overwhelmness of coming back to the real world like a deer in head lights and keeling over at the mere mention of grey skies, rain and the London Underground... No no no I cant do it...

I'll be honest, part of me is freaking scared. I'm scared/anxious/worried of a million things that I don't want to mention. I'm worried of coming back and everything being the same. Worried that I will always look at the price tag on clothes, that I will return to a day job I don't like, that I won't be content, that I won't book regular work, that I'm following the wrong dream, that I will somehow disappoint people if I don't come back with a blockbuster movie deal and stories of how Elton John massaged my feet whilst Emma stone bought us shots and I am worried that 'I' will come back disappointed that Elton didn't massage my feet or I didn't do shots with Emma Stone.

A teacher said to me once that worry was the egos way of protecting itself from the pain they believed was coming their way. 'If I worry about the plane crashing, or the boyfriend cheating, or the lack of job I have or the five things off my list that I didn't do' then when all of those things happen, I will not feel as bad about them. I will have predicted, prepared for said shit to hit the fan and there for when covered in said shit, It will not phase me, perhaps I wont even smell it. It turns out... I was wrong! Just because we predicted being covered in feces, will not make being covered in poo any less traumatic. Instead you will have spent hours, days, weeks, months, in a negative, shitty (mind the pun) state of mind, to inevitably, what is SHIT anyway and will not BE any less SHIT because of said prediction. My teachers shortened version was... 'Worrying that the plane will go down, will NOT make it any less painful when it does'

As an actor, you get asked such questions as, 'When's your big break then?' Or 'You want to be in Easterners right?'or 'When are you gong to give up?' And I would quite like to ask... 'When are you going to give up your day job?' There is no definitive answer. There is no, (If I don't come back with a job in Curly Sue 2 or Fast and Furious 12 then I quit) This just is it... and no worrying otherwise will help.

These are the days... THE days, the ones we look back on and go 'Sheeet, I did that, I went there, I met them...' Those days are now . Brene Brown (my own personal Guru) says that the difference between people who resist joy (grumpy fearful people) and the people who accept joy less grumpy fearless people), is that the people who accept joy practise gratitude. Horrendously, practising gratitude was not built in me innately. It wasn't that I was ungrateful, it is just that my pattern was to focus my energy on the crap that went wrong that week, or the things I didn't get done and it was less easy to focus on the small little things that happened that made my day/week wonderful. 

So now I have the 'ten things I am grateful for' list and it helps me remember to enjoy every second because... these are the days!

With post show blues...

So you audition. Sometimes a lot, sometimes not. You go to class, workshops, you have head shots done. They don't look like you, you have more done, you cry at the price. You get a friend to do them and pray that there is just one in there that your agent likes, you pray that there is one in there that you like. You go to your day job, you leave and go to rehearsals for that play you said you'd do for free and then you rush from there to a night shoot of a short film that your mates, neighbours, dog sitters boyfriend, wrote. You spend five hours on a night shoot, outside, in the middle of winter. You take a pic for intsa and hash tag it #livingthedream or #dreamsdocometrue and you secretly want to cry because your so hungry and all they have on set are biscuits. You really don't want biscuits because you have been eating clean and you are now wise enough to know if you have one biscuit you will have ten. You finally get in, after a long night bus journey home and you get three hours sleep in before you have your day job again. Short shift today. Afterwards you head to that cute little coffee shop to go and write. You have five hours. You sit for three trying to think where to start, you decide to make a list of all the things you need to do. Pay for class, chose head shot, buy shower gel, tax return... Oh shit... Find all your old receipts. You get a call, private number... you pray it's your agent, but pretend that you so don't think it's your agent. You answer easy breezy... Its your agent. 'Yes' you think. 'maybe it's an audition.
And it is. And with a lovely warm sense of purpose and joy you put down phone and await the e mail with the details.

It's a play. Sort of, a musical. You read the part and you love it. You actually feel you can do this. You understand the part. You love how it reads. It feels natural and it makes you smile. Sometimes you just get those auditions that just feel right. Your not sure why, but it feels like it makes sense. Some you get and they are so far out of reach of what you think you can do with the character or they don't click with you and you feel you may have to blag the audition. But when that  one comes in that just feels good, you feel fooking great. 

You go in. You may have had an espresso because you fell asleep on the tube on the way. You may go into the audition a little off kilter. Perhaps a bit more unsteady, than you may have been without said espresso. You read, you faff, you plough on, you leave. And suddenly, that audition you thought you could smash, the one you thought you could be just right for, you may have effed it up. You call your agent, you explain. You loose sleep because, despite it only being a three night run, something, deep inside your gut, tells you this is going to be a good project. And secretly (because its way cooler to pretend you don't) you want it. You want the job, your mad you might not get the job and you resign yourself to a moment (and only a moment) of self pity. 

The phone rings. Its private number. You pick up knowing it's going to be PPI calling about that insurance fraud payment that you never took out because you have never had a loan and you... 

'You got the job' Errrrrm... what? 'You got the job' And your belly actually flips because your gut, your heart, tells you, this is going to be an awesome thing to be apart of. 

Day one of rehearsals comes after your thirtieth birthday celebrations and life feels freaking awesome. You rehearse, you chat, you bond, you banter and you make friends with people you think you could be friends with for life. You drink, you bond, you laugh, you try to dance to the choreography, you can't, you tear up and you rehearse and learn lines and drink and bond some more. You watch in ore at the talent your working with, you don't feel threatened because you admire everyone's ability to bring it all together and perform an assemble piece so strong you might not get over the fact that its over. 

And then... suddenly... it's over. You do the three nights, that went so very quickly you try to recount exactly how they are over already, and you sit on a bus the day after the last show and you cry. Your not sure exactly why, but you sob. Like you have just been dumped by the boy in the year above who has a six pack and all the girls fancy. Like he's just taunted you and said he will go out with you and then laughed in your face and said it was a joke. You feel lost, alone and so gutted that its over that you wonder how on earth your going to get through the next week before you head to LA. 

Post show blues are not the one. And despite knowing that its a come down, you still want to eat nothing but ice cream and not wear anything but jogging bottoms. Even though you know it will pass, you still feel so gutted that it's over, you might hibernate for weeks on end. Acting lark is funny. You wait for a long time, for jobs, it seems. You make sacrifices and work hard so you can feel a pay off down the line. Then, sometimes, when you're least expecting, you end up in something so special that it gets you excited about acting again and you know is meant to be a part of your journey, that you can't help but eat cake, shed tears and already look forward to getting to do the show again... and you remember exactly why you chose to this acting lark in the first place...