Okay, so I just shot my first love scene.
And by that I do not mean that I watched my first love scene on television and proceeded to shoot the screen with a gun. Believe me, there have been some love scenes on television that have caused me to wish I actually owned a glock...
But I digress. Shock.
But last week, during the final two days of shooting Season Two of We Have To Stop Now, I had to...let's just say I had to enjoy another lady in a bed with not much clothing on.
It was pretty spectacular. And please, do not mistake my usage of that word; I am not referring to the footage, in fact, I have not seen any and really do not care to at this juncture. What I meant was that the entire experience was...absolutely bizarre.
It's like you spend a couple of days with this lovely actress, pretending to be in love, you know, the longing, the sighing, the pouting, the "acting" of it all, and then, one day, you just have to get in bed and get it on. And by "it" I mean, the whole body on body thing.
It's not like the theatre where you can "fake it". In film, you have to touch, you have to be touched...you have to use tongues.
For those of you who have done the whole "one-night-stand" thing in your torrid past, I'm guessing it would be akin to that, but for those of us who grew up Protestant...well, it's new.
And, I know, I know, I've "done it" on stage many times, but it's really just not the same. I mean, this girl, who I don't even really know very well, was just...well, let's just say I feel like I should make her breakfast...
And, for the record, girls have the softest lips...sigh...
Friday, January 15, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Who Just Looked At My Butt? Oh. It Was Me.
Okay, so to the myriad of hopeful people who begin a "workout program" right after the new year, I ask of you: why are we really doing this to ourselves?
The assigning of a ridiculously intense physical regimen and an expensive gym membership to our daily life with the actual belief that we will be able to continue, nay even fully commit to, it for any serious amount of time is...well...it's really just a set up for disaster.
However, I don't believe the inevitable failure is due to an inability to commit, or to actually DO activities that are physically intense (Lord knows we've all been in college), I believe that it all stems from motives.
How many of us are actually beginning to work out because we believe that if we do exercise our bodies just a little bit more every day, we will actually achieve a greater sense of peace and comfort which will in turn make us more in harmony with the world and its people at large?
Nuh uh. Most of us have one of two thoughts: a) my butt doesn't look good in these pants; or b) my doctor says if I don't start doing yoga, I'm going to have another heart attack.
(I will spare you all my virilant and copious thoughts on "yoga" at this juncture).
So, with these fearful and selfish motives in our souls, is it any wonder that we fail? That after about three, nay even two weeks, the gym membership card starts to accumulate dust in our wallets. Or, as it dangles from our key chain while we're stuck in traffic on the 101, do we not feel, once again, that horrible sense of shame that usually leads to the need for an entire pint of Vanilla Haagen-Daz? And there we are...once again...with a bad heart and a fat ass. Sigh...
I guess the point is, if we really want to change, our motives have to be...well...not about our butts. Or Ice Cream (shudder, shudder). Maybe we can start with just a good little walk each morning and see where that takes us.
The assigning of a ridiculously intense physical regimen and an expensive gym membership to our daily life with the actual belief that we will be able to continue, nay even fully commit to, it for any serious amount of time is...well...it's really just a set up for disaster.
However, I don't believe the inevitable failure is due to an inability to commit, or to actually DO activities that are physically intense (Lord knows we've all been in college), I believe that it all stems from motives.
How many of us are actually beginning to work out because we believe that if we do exercise our bodies just a little bit more every day, we will actually achieve a greater sense of peace and comfort which will in turn make us more in harmony with the world and its people at large?
Nuh uh. Most of us have one of two thoughts: a) my butt doesn't look good in these pants; or b) my doctor says if I don't start doing yoga, I'm going to have another heart attack.
(I will spare you all my virilant and copious thoughts on "yoga" at this juncture).
So, with these fearful and selfish motives in our souls, is it any wonder that we fail? That after about three, nay even two weeks, the gym membership card starts to accumulate dust in our wallets. Or, as it dangles from our key chain while we're stuck in traffic on the 101, do we not feel, once again, that horrible sense of shame that usually leads to the need for an entire pint of Vanilla Haagen-Daz? And there we are...once again...with a bad heart and a fat ass. Sigh...
I guess the point is, if we really want to change, our motives have to be...well...not about our butts. Or Ice Cream (shudder, shudder). Maybe we can start with just a good little walk each morning and see where that takes us.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Rewrites...Grrrrr
So, I'm doing some more rewrites on my play, Sidhe this morning, before rehearsal this afternoon...yes, I know, always waiting until the last minute...
I don't know what it is. Is it just plain arrogance? That I'm far too important to work on projects like normal people, in a regular fashion, meaning a little at a time, progressing diligantly forward to a designated goal a day at a time until said goal is rewardingly achieved? So important that I must waste time THINKING about the project a little at a time, progressing obsessively forward, a day at a time, until the last possible moment where the actual execution of the project becomes decidedly limited to the specific amount of time necessary to get the work done without ANY glitches or mistakes happening.
You know the drill: I can get it done, let's just hope my printer doesn't run out of ink, or paper, or...God forbid, jam (shudder, shudder).
If that is indeed the case, it certainly suffers from a lack of rationality. Especially since I've done it MANY TIMES before. Perhaps it is not just arrogance, but mainly ignorance...
Although, I do take comfort in the fact, that I have NOT actually, this time around, "waited until the last minute", I have allowed for things like...paper jams (shudder again) and the inevitable "writer's jam" which always rears its ugly head in times like these, so I think I'm actually making some progress. I have actually taken "notes" earlier in the week and have listed the sections/pages that need to be rewritten, so I have laid out a wee framework from which to embark on this mini-journey this morning...however...
The fact remains that I indeed could have done this last night instead of watching Season Two of Family Guy...and the fact also remains that I am indeed still arrogant. And ignorant.
Again, sigh...
I don't know what it is. Is it just plain arrogance? That I'm far too important to work on projects like normal people, in a regular fashion, meaning a little at a time, progressing diligantly forward to a designated goal a day at a time until said goal is rewardingly achieved? So important that I must waste time THINKING about the project a little at a time, progressing obsessively forward, a day at a time, until the last possible moment where the actual execution of the project becomes decidedly limited to the specific amount of time necessary to get the work done without ANY glitches or mistakes happening.
You know the drill: I can get it done, let's just hope my printer doesn't run out of ink, or paper, or...God forbid, jam (shudder, shudder).
If that is indeed the case, it certainly suffers from a lack of rationality. Especially since I've done it MANY TIMES before. Perhaps it is not just arrogance, but mainly ignorance...
Although, I do take comfort in the fact, that I have NOT actually, this time around, "waited until the last minute", I have allowed for things like...paper jams (shudder again) and the inevitable "writer's jam" which always rears its ugly head in times like these, so I think I'm actually making some progress. I have actually taken "notes" earlier in the week and have listed the sections/pages that need to be rewritten, so I have laid out a wee framework from which to embark on this mini-journey this morning...however...
The fact remains that I indeed could have done this last night instead of watching Season Two of Family Guy...and the fact also remains that I am indeed still arrogant. And ignorant.
Again, sigh...
Friday, January 1, 2010
Welcome To The Madhouse
So, I've recently learned this past year that...uh, well...in a nutshell...I'm insane. The good news is that most people are insane to some degree, and my particular kind of insanity has the surprisingly delightful benefit of attracting a rather creative yet intense cadre of personalities into my midst. I am grateful. For both their creativity and their intensity. However, being immersed in all that creativity and intensity does require that I rest periodically and do something benign with my brain like...uh, well...count the whiskers on my cats. Or something like that.
These days it seems the only mind-numbing activity I find at all intriguing is consuming a pint of Haagen-Daz Vanilla Ice Cream. Which does happily lead to a brief cessation in my obsessive manner of thinking, however, that luxuriously peaceful--yet somewhat frigid--state is inevitably followed by a state of being which can only be described as...uh, well, the "sugar high". The "sugar high" as many of you know tends to lead rather rapidly to another state of being which can only be described as "delusions of grandeur".
For the physicists in the bunch: Vanilla Ice Cream + Consumption = Pleasure. Vanilla Ice Cream + Consumption + Time = "I Can Write The Great American Play In A Week" Theory.
So, my first goal of 2010 is to continue to acknowledge on a daily basis that I am indeed insane, and that Vanilla Ice Cream is not the answer to my problems, and that, in fact, I have very few problems, the least of which is that I do not, in fact, know how many whiskers are upon the faces of my cats.
Until we meet again...
These days it seems the only mind-numbing activity I find at all intriguing is consuming a pint of Haagen-Daz Vanilla Ice Cream. Which does happily lead to a brief cessation in my obsessive manner of thinking, however, that luxuriously peaceful--yet somewhat frigid--state is inevitably followed by a state of being which can only be described as...uh, well, the "sugar high". The "sugar high" as many of you know tends to lead rather rapidly to another state of being which can only be described as "delusions of grandeur".
For the physicists in the bunch: Vanilla Ice Cream + Consumption = Pleasure. Vanilla Ice Cream + Consumption + Time = "I Can Write The Great American Play In A Week" Theory.
So, my first goal of 2010 is to continue to acknowledge on a daily basis that I am indeed insane, and that Vanilla Ice Cream is not the answer to my problems, and that, in fact, I have very few problems, the least of which is that I do not, in fact, know how many whiskers are upon the faces of my cats.
Until we meet again...
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