- 9 episodes of "Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt" in 1 sitting
- $420 spent on 2 acting classes
- 40 7th-grade girls in a musical about a 24-year-old half fairy man-- fairy above the waist and mortal from the waist down-- whose highly desirable shepherdess girlfriend catches him kissing his fairy mother who looks like she's 17
- Starting Improv 201 the day after you finish Improv 101
- Deciding to watch "The Last 5 Years" right before you leave on a first date
- The sentence "I've started watching a bunch of TV, though, and that's been fun." in response to someone asking what is new in your life
Instructions
The sexual undertones in a story about a man who is fairy from the waist up, mortal from the waist down, who is accused of cheating on his fiancee with a much younger woman whom he claims to be his mother are STRONG. I love drama teachers who have such confidence in their student actors. Only in an esteemed all-girl private school in New York City, am I right?
Watching my not-so-little-anymore 12-year-old friend (slash child I used to babysit), while sitting next to my super supportive, ultra sophisticated late-30's friend (slash her mother and my ex-boss), laughing at this rarely produced Gilbert and Sullivan musical performed by girls cross dressing with commitment and singing their hearts out about subject matters beyond their years, I was... I was...
Hmm, you're waiting for me to say "inspired," aren't you? See, I was so happy watching them: fully entertained, engaged, appreciating their comedic interpretations along with their naive ignorance of the play's wry political wit. However, after I hugged my favorite cross dresser goodbye, leaving her with her new fan club (she played the male half-fairy lead and murdered that Upper East Side auditorium), chatty hyper girlfriends, and sincerely adoring parents, I walked down Lexington Ave. with a sudden stupid sadness. I'd spent less than 2 short hours in a bubble: I was with a real family who introduced me to their parent-friends as a part of that family; I partook in an elite Park Ave. community, with women in pearls and children in Ralph Lauren; I was surrounded by beaming (& the usual few bored) parents and their giggling gangly children with their wiggling wangly friends, hugging and smiling and begging to walk home alone after the cast party. But when I stepped through that utopian school door, I was me again. I was the 23-year-old who, before getting on the train, stops at CVS to buy a quart of sugar-free slow churned vanilla ice cream because I know it's on sale and that quart will accompany me back to my empty apartment like the boyfriend I don't have.
Hmm, you're waiting for me to say "inspired," aren't you? See, I was so happy watching them: fully entertained, engaged, appreciating their comedic interpretations along with their naive ignorance of the play's wry political wit. However, after I hugged my favorite cross dresser goodbye, leaving her with her new fan club (she played the male half-fairy lead and murdered that Upper East Side auditorium), chatty hyper girlfriends, and sincerely adoring parents, I walked down Lexington Ave. with a sudden stupid sadness. I'd spent less than 2 short hours in a bubble: I was with a real family who introduced me to their parent-friends as a part of that family; I partook in an elite Park Ave. community, with women in pearls and children in Ralph Lauren; I was surrounded by beaming (& the usual few bored) parents and their giggling gangly children with their wiggling wangly friends, hugging and smiling and begging to walk home alone after the cast party. But when I stepped through that utopian school door, I was me again. I was the 23-year-old who, before getting on the train, stops at CVS to buy a quart of sugar-free slow churned vanilla ice cream because I know it's on sale and that quart will accompany me back to my empty apartment like the boyfriend I don't have.
It's not about the boyfriend, sheesh! Good goodness, I miss my family! Or do I miss being a kid? Or do I miss school, structure, guaranteed productions? Folks congratulating me on my portrayal of a boring ingenue or my handbell solo? Or do I just want to cross dress and sing Gilbert & Sullivan?
You know, probs all of the above. I think I'm going insane. This is the longest I've ever been in NYC without leaving, and let me tell you, I cannot stand STILL anymore. You want to know how long it's been? 3.5 months.
Exactly, Emma. It's not long. At all. But I'm a baby! I fly for free! I live an hour-and-a-half flight away in Ohio where all the Midwestern families grow-- plus I was on tour for 3.5 months last year, plus I had my broken-foot-homestay last summer, plus I took trips to Costa Rica and South Carolina. I don't stay here, that's not my thing. So, yes, I'm getting antsy over here. Though I fly for free, my financial "situation" doesn't allow for me to simply jet pack around the world, missing work and begging my fellow broke actor friends to join me. No, no, when I have the courage and religious reasoning to ask for a few days off of work, where am I headed?
Amherst, Ohio, baby.
Too many people get down on me for not taking advantage of my free standby flying privileges, and-- trust me-- I get it. I should fly to Spain tomorrow because it's my day off, I've never been there, and that's exactly how this works. But when Easter knocks on my door, there's nowhere I'd rather be than the Sandstone Capital of the World.
Any other time, though?... I know that, as excited as I am to go home, I will miss New York all too quickly once I'm back in that suburb of a suburb. Though I clearly miss my family, as shown in the solace found in a CVS ice cream sale, I do not want to spend quality time in Ohio. That's right, just like Anna Kendrick's character Cathy in the new movie/old musical "The Last 5 Years." As a wee tot of 15, I used to belt those lyrics, "I'll get on my knees, and pray I can state in my next bio, 'I'm never gonna go back to Ohio!'" in the shower like I was someone who knew how to belt.
Please, by ALL means, bring my family to me or wherever I may travel to! Just not Ohio. As I reminded when I was crippled and confined in my mother's living room for a month this summer, I left Ohio for a reason. That's right, just like Anna Kendrick's character Cathy sings in the movie you can rent instantly on Amazon Prime, "When we get to my house, take a look at that town, take a look at far I've gone-- I will never go back, never look back anymore."
This insane, antsy feeling I have has more to do with wanting to flee the city. For those of us who haven't reached their goal here in the Big Apple-- or Chi-Town (as no one calls it) or the City of Angels-- and reach instead for all the improv classes and ice cream deals this city has to offer, those lyrics HIT us in the FEELS. A lot of actors have escaped their hometowns or homestates for anywhere else. Though we complain about our shitty rent and how often the 7 train shuts down, we are so grateful to smell the shit. Call us masochists or idiots... both are true.
So what if watching TV has become my new favorite pastime? It's for my career! What's it to you if I use Forever 21 as my personal auditions closet because their only return policy is store credit? "Baggy clothes" and "Peter Pan sweater set" auditions deem it necessary! To the outside world, actors are crazy. I never find these things weird until someone else judges them, though; I am proud to work night shifts for my Forever 21 Closet cash. I deem to no longer fill other voids of my life (social, romantic, escapism) when what's actually missing is the crux of why I'm here: a job that I want. The other day, it hit me: Reflecting on Saturday night's solo date with Netflix, I asked myself, "Ugh, Anna, if you had a boyfriend, would that solve the current stage of the 'New York City Lost' drudge you're in? Would it?" NO. No? No. NO! It wouldn't! But what would?
Boom. Acting.
Thanks, Ryan. But it's true, no matter how corny it sounds: I'm not going to be satisfied until I'm doing what I have dedicated my short life to doing. (Am I talking about my height, or not?) I can escape home or even to Spain all I want, but the real adventure I'm looking for is in my career. Which brings me one step closer to being in a movie with you, Ryan. You're welcome, Ryan.
So, sure: I may blubber alone on my futon at 4pm on a Wednesday while watching a little movie called "The Last 5 Years" (you may have heard of it); I may hold back a sniffle in a CVS after leaving the joy of other families; and I may be staying afloat solely due to my large tax return, because I spend all that's not rent on improv and acting classes. BUT: I got to play a sassy murdered prostitute living inside the head of a troubled detective this past Saturday. Because that's the character a casting director assigned me for our class. No innocent teenager or quiet ingenue... A complex dead whore. New York City, we're movin' on up. See you soon, Ryan and Anna K.
Love,
Crazy Stupid Love
The movie.
Those GIFs. Are from the movie.
PS: That's Movie #2 I'm forcing you to watch for full completion of this recipe, as well as all 13 episodes of "Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt."
*Note: TL5Y should only be watched by yourself in the comfort of your own home, and finish the whole Kimmy season before deciding whether or not to tell the whole world that it's outright offensive. THERE GOES YOUR WEEKEND.
You know, probs all of the above. I think I'm going insane. This is the longest I've ever been in NYC without leaving, and let me tell you, I cannot stand STILL anymore. You want to know how long it's been? 3.5 months.
Exactly, Emma. It's not long. At all. But I'm a baby! I fly for free! I live an hour-and-a-half flight away in Ohio where all the Midwestern families grow-- plus I was on tour for 3.5 months last year, plus I had my broken-foot-homestay last summer, plus I took trips to Costa Rica and South Carolina. I don't stay here, that's not my thing. So, yes, I'm getting antsy over here. Though I fly for free, my financial "situation" doesn't allow for me to simply jet pack around the world, missing work and begging my fellow broke actor friends to join me. No, no, when I have the courage and religious reasoning to ask for a few days off of work, where am I headed?
Amherst, Ohio, baby.
Too many people get down on me for not taking advantage of my free standby flying privileges, and-- trust me-- I get it. I should fly to Spain tomorrow because it's my day off, I've never been there, and that's exactly how this works. But when Easter knocks on my door, there's nowhere I'd rather be than the Sandstone Capital of the World.
Any other time, though?... I know that, as excited as I am to go home, I will miss New York all too quickly once I'm back in that suburb of a suburb. Though I clearly miss my family, as shown in the solace found in a CVS ice cream sale, I do not want to spend quality time in Ohio. That's right, just like Anna Kendrick's character Cathy in the new movie/old musical "The Last 5 Years." As a wee tot of 15, I used to belt those lyrics, "I'll get on my knees, and pray I can state in my next bio, 'I'm never gonna go back to Ohio!'" in the shower like I was someone who knew how to belt.
Please, by ALL means, bring my family to me or wherever I may travel to! Just not Ohio. As I reminded when I was crippled and confined in my mother's living room for a month this summer, I left Ohio for a reason. That's right, just like Anna Kendrick's character Cathy sings in the movie you can rent instantly on Amazon Prime, "When we get to my house, take a look at that town, take a look at far I've gone-- I will never go back, never look back anymore."
This insane, antsy feeling I have has more to do with wanting to flee the city. For those of us who haven't reached their goal here in the Big Apple-- or Chi-Town (as no one calls it) or the City of Angels-- and reach instead for all the improv classes and ice cream deals this city has to offer, those lyrics HIT us in the FEELS. A lot of actors have escaped their hometowns or homestates for anywhere else. Though we complain about our shitty rent and how often the 7 train shuts down, we are so grateful to smell the shit. Call us masochists or idiots... both are true.
So what if watching TV has become my new favorite pastime? It's for my career! What's it to you if I use Forever 21 as my personal auditions closet because their only return policy is store credit? "Baggy clothes" and "Peter Pan sweater set" auditions deem it necessary! To the outside world, actors are crazy. I never find these things weird until someone else judges them, though; I am proud to work night shifts for my Forever 21 Closet cash. I deem to no longer fill other voids of my life (social, romantic, escapism) when what's actually missing is the crux of why I'm here: a job that I want. The other day, it hit me: Reflecting on Saturday night's solo date with Netflix, I asked myself, "Ugh, Anna, if you had a boyfriend, would that solve the current stage of the 'New York City Lost' drudge you're in? Would it?" NO. No? No. NO! It wouldn't! But what would?
Boom. Acting.
Thanks, Ryan. But it's true, no matter how corny it sounds: I'm not going to be satisfied until I'm doing what I have dedicated my short life to doing. (Am I talking about my height, or not?) I can escape home or even to Spain all I want, but the real adventure I'm looking for is in my career. Which brings me one step closer to being in a movie with you, Ryan. You're welcome, Ryan.
So, sure: I may blubber alone on my futon at 4pm on a Wednesday while watching a little movie called "The Last 5 Years" (you may have heard of it); I may hold back a sniffle in a CVS after leaving the joy of other families; and I may be staying afloat solely due to my large tax return, because I spend all that's not rent on improv and acting classes. BUT: I got to play a sassy murdered prostitute living inside the head of a troubled detective this past Saturday. Because that's the character a casting director assigned me for our class. No innocent teenager or quiet ingenue... A complex dead whore. New York City, we're movin' on up. See you soon, Ryan and Anna K.
Love,
Crazy Stupid Love
The movie.
Those GIFs. Are from the movie.
PS: That's Movie #2 I'm forcing you to watch for full completion of this recipe, as well as all 13 episodes of "Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt."
*Note: TL5Y should only be watched by yourself in the comfort of your own home, and finish the whole Kimmy season before deciding whether or not to tell the whole world that it's outright offensive. THERE GOES YOUR WEEKEND.
