The Hollywood Dream

I didn't get much sleep last night. I found myself stirred awake much too early by The Big Guy's phone alerting him to an email-- why he can't figure out how to turn off this perky jerky little sound, I'll never understand. But I was surprisingly grateful for the wake-up. I was having a much-too-real dream that seemed to strike right at my most vulnerable and private of insecurities. And once released from the dream's grip, I found that I not only couldn't return to slumber, but I also couldn't escape what the dream was articulating.

I've spent my life committed to one mission after the other. I would have called myself a "driven" person years ago, though today the description seems laughable. When I wanted something, I was gonna get it, even it took me to great lengths to achieve it. I've never been a things-come-so-easily-to-her type of gal. I've scratched, clawed, chewed and gulped my way to anything I wanted. I'm never the obvious choice, but I'll wear ya down til you see it my way. Sure, the fact that I've had to fight for it all has taken its toll on me at times, frustrating me as I watched those who I thought didn't want it nearly as badly as I did come upon it so easily. But I'd continue to fight and fight and FIGHT until I too succeeded. And the success was always so sweet, so delightful... and so short-lived.

I dreamed a big dream when I was a kid. I wanted nothing more than to be three things when I grew up-- I wanted to be a teacher, to be a mother, and to be an actor. I've been a teacher (in a traditional and non-traditional setting) for more than 10 years now. I've been a mother of sorts to a wonderful little Poo for close to 6 years. And in some places, I could have said I was an actor-- as long as those places weren't Los Angeles, California.

I came to this city dreaming of making my claim as an actor. I received an ego bruise and then some while living in Las Vegas, a city filled with sexualized women pulled and pressed and shrunk into Barbie-sized dresses that never seemed to pay much heed to a four-eyed Italian gal with a schnauz as big as the Stratosphere. But I came out swinging-- I left the City of Sin in the best shape of my life and felt ready to tackle Los Angeles once and for all.

Saying you're going to do it and actually doing it can be a tricky bit of business. Upon arrival in Los Angeles, I quickly found out just how convoluted this biz of acting can be. Everything has a price-- the headshots, the classes, the showcases for agents and managers to see you, the clothing you have to wear, the letters you have to send out, the gas you have to put in your car to get to Sherman Oaks to audition for a second-rate manager who cattle-called every fresh face in the city. On top of that, you're expected to have an open OPEN schedule so that should a casting director or agent need to see you at 3:15 on Wednesday (and it's already 12 on that very same Wednesday), you'd better be available-- a point I could never wrap my head around given all the planning and budgeting that goes into preparing for a shoot; could they not give actors a bit more notice?

I came here so badly wanting to do whatever Hollywood told me to do-- you want me to spend $2K on some pics of myself? Need me to suck up to every phony "producer" at this party? Pretend I'm shooting a webseries (EVERYONE here is doing a webseries, even your cat)? I was willing to do it all. But everything comes with a price. And unfortunately, some of us have to work to afford the cost.

I don't have a link to a benefactor or a large bank account or a nest egg that I've been saving into for years. I lived a hard HARD 11 months in Las Vegas where I saw credit that I had been working to restore destroyed and my few scraps of precious materials nearly repossessed by the banks that allowed me to purchase them. I worked as many as four jobs at one time living in Sin Cit-tay just so I could pay the low cost of rent and keep the creditors temporarily off my back. So in coming to Los Angeles, where $1500 a month will get you a cracker box, I knew I was going to have to work. So I fought, just as I always do, to stake a claim in a job that provided me with a bit of financial security all in the hopes that I'd be able to have a good job and pursue my dreams.

I spent the first three years in Los Angeles working for a company that I loved. Loved isn't even a good enough word for it; I was PASSIONATE about it. The funny thing was, it was a business that I never envisioned liking, but found myself enjoying every day. I found myself surrounded by beautiful things everyday, wonderful teammates who I enjoyed talking to and working with, a company who embraced the creativity in us all. Problem was, I don't think I was ever earmarked for greatness with them. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I worked, I was always two steps behind others. I didn't dress like everyone else. I didn't look like everyone else. Though I loved the job, I found myself scraping by each week, sometimes skipping meals because I couldn't afford to swing for a sandwich. And in all this, forget those $2K headshots; forget the meetings with casting agents. I had to pay the bills, leaving little time to devote to becoming an actor. I went from nearly a dozen auditions my first year in LA, to a handful the following year... It's been 27 months since I last auditioned for anything. Some actor.

When the opportunity arose a year ago to go to another company for work, a company that offered me more money, a company that promised me the professional growth I so desperately wanted with the company I loved (but they weren't willing to give), a company that wanted ME, I took the chance. I wish I could tell you that that choice allowed me to strike again for that acting gold, but if I did that, I'd contradict the last paragraph.

I didn't come to this town for riches. I didn't come here to see my face on a magazine. I came here aspiring to have a career like Allison Janney or Robert Duvall, actors who seem to pop up in just about any scenario, delighting in the craft that they love so. I came here and found some pleasant surprises-- having the chance to work for three years for a company that, though it didn't leave me with much in the bank, gave me such personal delight and satisfaction. But I also find that the dream is gone, slipped away by the needs of a reality that a phone alert at 4:30 a.m. can't wake me from.