We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Blog...

My “brand” is not Christian, or Activist, or even Ally.  Sure, I try to live these models to the best of my ability – but when it comes to my art and my “persona” I try to be as non-political as possible.  I’m an entertainer, writer, musician who identifies most closely with comedy, and based on my irreverent sense of humor, I’m pretty sure I have the soul of a perpetually 13-year-old boy.

But then there’s this…

This aching I’ve felt so acutely since the massacre at Pulse in Orlando.  This heavy, heavy weight in my soul compounded daily by the pain and suffering of people I know and people I don’t – people I’ll never have the chance to meet, because their lives were ended just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time when another person – another human being acted out in a violent way.

I cried – really cried – yesterday when I found out about all the families who lost their lives in Bagdad.  And today I’m crying because I know that specifically my black friends – all of them – are mourning the senseless death of Alton Sterling.

And I hate this because I feel so f-ing helpless!!!  So here it is. All I can do.  I can pray.

It’s okay if you don’t believe in a “guy in the sky.”  But even scientific studies validate the positive effects of prayer, meditation, goal setting and focused thought/intention.  So if you are so inclined – if you also ache for the countless victims of violent acts perpetuated by other human beings, if you can humble yourself for just a minute to look inside at the state of your own heart – this seems as good a place to start as any. 

Dear God (or insert Deity of choice,)

Please take Alton Sterling into your loving embrace.  Please bless his friends, family and members of his community with an outpouring of love, understanding and healing.

Please pour out your grace on all our communities and the law enforcement officers that serve them across this nation.  Help those in positions of greater power meet their responsibilities with greater temperance, greater equity and increased civility. 

Help us to look at our own hearts with honesty and cast out all fear, bigotry and hatred. Please shower us all with more love for our brothers and sisters in every walk of life.  Teach us to celebrate our diversity together, and so create a greater sense of unity across all man-made divides.

I know, Father, that as no respecter of persons, you do not esteem one person, one gender, one culture, one race above another.  For we all are your creation and you love us all as one.  Teach us that same love, across cultures, across, faiths, across ethnicities.

We know that we are broken.  Please take our broken hearts, and make them whole in your love, that we may love each other more perfectly – that we stand united as one people against fear, against hate, and against oppression.

Let us start today by mourning with those that mourn – the family of Alton Sterling, the countless people maimed and killed in Bagdad, the victims at the airport in Turkey, the innocents at Pulse night club – and the thousands of victims daily across the globe whose lives are cut short in acts of violence, hate and apathy.

Help us all to bear the mantle of responsibility to make this beautiful world you gave us a home of peace, tolerance and love.  Help us remember that, here, on this little tiny spec of the vast expanse of the universe, we truly are one.

Help us to be slow to anger, quick to forgive, patient in our actions and thoughtful in our words.  Help us to help each other fulfill our greatest potentials as individuals and communities. Help us to see in each human we encounter on our great journey, the pieces of us that they share.

Please, God, I do my best to do my part every day, and yet when my friends are aching because of injustice, because of violence, because of death and destruction, I know that somehow I have not done enough.

If words are all I have, then please help me to use mine to lift others up, show others hope and light, and to inspire change in those whose hearts are most in need.

I beg for your blessing.

Amen.

The Only Way Past is Through Part II: Happy Birthday to Me

 (Q: What does the following have to do with dealing with my father’s recent death? 

A: I’m not sure. I know only that this is a reflection on my own mortality and it seemed important this week. And yeah – it’s a little morbid. Cheers!)

My Grandma Morse’s birthday is about six weeks before mine every year.  And for some reason, I always take great pleasure in teasing her about getting another year older.

“Grandma, how does it feel to be so old?” (giggle, giggle…)

She never disappoints.

 “Well, you know, it beats the alternative.”  I’m not sure how old I was when I figured out what it was she was saying, but I thought it was kind of hysterical.  “It beats being DEAD!” (Ha-ha-ha!!!)

Source: https://media.giphy.com/media/iE6Iuo73NJAe4/giphy.gif

Did I mention, I’ve always had a fairly dark sense of humor?

I still smirk, but I don’t really laugh anymore.  Maybe it’s because I’m finally gaining some perspective.

This year, I was lucky enough to have my birthday fall on an actual Saturday!  Yeah – I know.

“Hillary, at your age, why would you be so excited about another birthday?  Aren’t you over it by now? Doesn’t it feel weird to be so old?”

Well, this year was kind of special.  I realized it the closer I got.

A little over a month ago, I moved into a new apartment in NYC.  True to form of most NYC apartments under $2,000/month, my living space is – hmmm – well defined.  Okay – that’s a euphemism for limited.  But it’s cozy, kitty friendly, has good access to street parking, includes a really cool roommate that I’ve known for years, is in a nice neighborhood with good train access and has a bomb-a$$ backyard! 

Source: https://media.giphy.com/media/cSDkd9hDV6RJ6/giphy.gif

So, without thinking too much, my roomie and I planned an outdoor cookout-style birthday party.  The impending party date gave us some good goals for things like, getting the lawn mowed, getting a new patio umbrella and fixing the gas grill.

But as the party got closer and our checklist grew shorter, I started to remember the last time I tried to host a Saturday backyard cookout birthday.

It was exactly ten years ago in last weekend.  I was living in a house in Edgewater, Florida on a 1/3^rd acre lot, so I had a pretty sizable back yard.  Of course, no one wants to be in a backyard in Florida in June! But I’d acquired citronella tikki torches and equipped my grill with a new propane tank, even though the bulk of the party was going to happen in the air-conditioned house FILLED with all the party fixin’s! Meat to grill, side dishes galore, (I’m pretty sure it was a fajita bar) and so many beverages!!!

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I’d invited a ton of people with the focus being my improv troupe and their friends.  In fact, earlier that morning, a few of us were guests on a locally produced kid’s radio show to promote our pending 1^st Birthday Show (now a standing RAI tradition!)

I made it to the show and got through the morning, but after our interview/on-air performance, we were ‘brunching’ at D.B. Pickles when I really started to crash. 

You see, I had just completed six months of super-aggressive chemotherapy for a nasty little sarcoma in my left foot.  After four of those months, I had surgery that not only removed the tumor, but amputated a good chunk of what had once been my best foot when it was forward.  I was about eight weeks post op at the time.

I was on a walking boot, so I was getting around okay – off of pain meds, and driving again.  But that day, my immune system just – well – coded I guess. 

I’ll spare the super disgusting details, but my condition took a nasty downturn and I wound up laying on a couch for a while, feebly mumbling directives to a small group of my friends who swooped in to save the day by prepping the food and finishing the set-up.  Eventually, when it became obvious that I wasn’t going to be able to “rally” and join the party, I went and hid out in my bedroom, so at least my friends could enjoy themselves without having to look at me.

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I was pretty pathetic that day.  I couldn’t get fluids down, but my eyes kept watering and I couldn’t stop drooling.  Yup – I was worse than St. Bernard!  I think I wound up putting a towel on my pillow.  The one upside was that at least my drool couldn’t get my hair wet – cuz – ya know – chemo!  No hair to worry about!

My friends checked in on me repeatedly.  I kept telling them to go out and enjoy the party.  I didn’t want the food to go to waste.  I wanted everyone to have a good time, even if I couldn’t – maybe especially because I couldn’t.

I’ll never know the absolute truth about that night.  I know I heard music.  I know I heard periodic bursts of loud laughter and talking.  And I let that soothe my soul for the moment, thinking that even if my body wasn’t capable of joining in the fun, at least fun was just one room over, and I had helped supply it.

And I vowed to myself that my next birthday would be better.

And I kept that promise. I don’t remember the specifics of all the birthdays between that night and Saturday, but I definitely took time Saturday night to be grateful that I was able to be the “grill-master” for my friends.  I was thrilled that I was able to spend most of the night on my feet, tending to my guests.  I was so happy to introduce all of my friends to each other and share stories and tips with each other.  I was relieved that I was capable of getting up and going to the door to let my friends in one by one and show them to our little backyard oasis. 

Source: https://media.giphy.com/media/Z4IXspU3iCHlK/giphy.gif

And maybe this year, for the first time, I really understood and appreciated what my grandmother has told me all these years about greeting another year head on.  Yes, I am ONE YEAR OLDER!!!  And that’s more than okay, because you know what?  It really does beat the alternative…

The Only Way Past is Through Part 1: Father’s Day

I’ve had mixed feelings about Father’s Day for the majority of my life.

My mom and my father T.C. divorced before my first birthday, so my earliest memories of family weren’t exactly nuclear.  I know I had visits with him.  I know I loved him. I know he loved me. But I also know it was complicated. 

More like nuclear - am I right???   Source:giphy.com

He was a truck-driver.  His visits were sporadic.  They were special, but not consistent.

When I was three years old, my mother met and married my dad, Bob Walker.  He’s the dad I grew up with.  He’s the dad that gave me my brother Eric and later, (spoiler alert!) a whole additional family of siblings when he remarried.

For a little while, I had something close to “normal” at home.  Dad joined the Army and worked as a photojournalist for the base paper, The Star Persidian.  We lived in a little duplex home at the Hamilton AFB in Novato, CA.  Dad worked long hours during the week, but on the weekend we’d take day trips into San Francisco, Muir Woods or Pt. Reyes.  We went to Alcatraz and he’d take me along when he drove the base bus for Folks Marches in lovely parks all around the Bay Area. On holidays, we’d visit his Uncle Dick and Aunt Evy in Southern California and take trips to Disney Land. He and I would spin and spin and spin in the Teacups. Mom would watch from the side, because they made her sick!

It was almost four years of living in a Seurat painting.  It was lovely and warm, but just a little bit fuzzy, because if you looked as us too closely, you’d be able to see that the pretty picture was nothing but carefully spaced little flecks of color and the things that a family needs to really stick together were missing from between the dots.

Maybe this one is just a little too on the nose... Source: https://media.giphy.com/media/MS8UECLiPreNi/giphy.gif

Some of the spaces may have been because of my other dad.  He liked to send me cards and gifts every now and then and photos of his other children – my brothers and sisters.  He offered on occasion to try to get our families together so I could meet my other siblings.   

I didn’t know how to feel.  I knew I was somehow still important to this man I never saw anymore, and I knew that he was still important to me.  But it felt like some sort of betrayal to my mom, my new dad and my brother.  My heart felt big enough to love everyone, but I didn’t want to hurt my new daddy’s feelings.  And I didn’t want my brother to think that I wasn’t his “whole” sister, just because we’d been born to different fathers or because I had other brothers and sisters living somewhere else. 

Other factors were also at play: financial factors, geographical factors and my mother’s brain-injury factor that happened just a year into our California odyssey.  Once my dad’s enlistment ended, we left California, and the warm colors and hazy details of our little family washed away.  The distance between my dad and I widened in direct proportion to the distance between him and my mom.  It was a horrible time.  I was only 12 years old and I was pretty sure I just wanted to die.  I didn’t know if making it through high school was a worthwhile goal because I couldn’t really see a light at the end of the ominous tunnel that was junior high. 

Like really obsessed! Source:https://media.giphy.com/media/Q9A55jF4sggdq/giphy.gif

But for a little while, things got better.  When Eric and I went to visit Dad, he worked harder than he had in at least a year to really be present for us.  We spent lazy weekends together nuking popcorn and watching movies.  Or sometimes we’d go to my Grandpa Walker’s nursery and work outside with all the plants and trees and get paid for the day.  He even took us on a vacation to Salem, Massachusetts, because I was going through this phase where I was obsessed with the Witch Trials.

Then Dad took the logical step of any divorced man in his early 30’s and remarried.  This was a perfectly natural thing to do.  And I suppose, it should have been a happy event.  But Eric and I just weren’t ready to share our dad with a whole new family.  I tried to barter.  What if weekends were “whole family time” and Wednesdays were just for Eric and me?  I was told that I was being controlling and manipulative. 

But when we were with the whole new family, we didn’t really get our “dad.”  We got this watered down, worn-out version of him that was trying too hard to make everyone happy and really pleasing nobody.

I got a little older and a little harder.  My 12-year-old despair solidified into 13-year-old apathy and devolved into 14-year-old acrimony.

Since the whole “Brady Bunch” thing wasn’t working, I eventually opted out of scheduled visits altogether. It’s so much easier to keep from getting hurt when you go through the motions of not caring.

Yep. Not quite. Source:https://media.giphy.com/media/EezZdS8K1stl6/giphy.gif

Maybe I should have tried harder.  Maybe he should have tried harder.  Maybe we just both did the best we could, given the situation.  I remember judging my dad and feeling that he was being immature for someone with the benefit of 30+ years of experience.  However, once I made into my 30’s I realized how little three decades prepare you for the really hard crap. I’ve learned to cut all my parents infinitely more slack as I’ve gotten older.

Fast forward to my high school graduation.  T.C. shows up to surprise me and YES – I was surprised.  I hadn’t seen him since my 5^th birthday, when he brought his new wife and my baby sister Charlene to the party.

Now he was single again, with limited contact with his other children. Now he wanted me to move to Utah to spend time and get to know him. Now he wanted to be critical of my decision to move to NYC to pursue acting at one of the top schools in the country (AADA – not AMDA!)

It was so weird to have a father so interested in my life again.  It was a bumpy road. “Dad” hadn’t been my favorite word for several years by this point, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to take another stab at having one.  But curiosity got the best of me.  After all, I was carrying around this guy’s DNA.  I was 18 and I needed to know everything I could about me – like every 18-year-old.  And it made sense that since this guy was present at the factory when I was assembled, he might give me more insight into what made me tick.

I was 20 when I took T.C. up on his offer to move out to Salt Lake City.  I wasn’t really feeling the Intermountain West.  I considered myself a New Yorker through and through (in spite of my brief stint as a California Girl ;) )  But he took me hiking, and went to Karaoke nights with me and tried – God bless him he tried – to teach me how to play pool. Some things just aren’t hereditary.

Possibly actual footage! Source:gify.com

So here’s where I’ll leave it for today.  The desolate 12-year-old Hillary wept on Father’s Day, and the jaded 14-year-old Hillary probably said something like, “I don’t really have a dad anymore.”  But today I’m crying tears that celebrate the story of my heart.  Today I celebrate T.C., the dad I just lost – again.  He showed me that late really IS better than never.  And I also celebrate Bob, the dad I still have, that I don’t spend enough time with. I’ve never called him my stepdad, except to explain my family life to outsiders.  But if step means “step up” to be a dad, well, I guess he did just that. He truly gave me that pretty portrait of a happy family life – even if it was for just a few short years.  I do have those memories and they are so very beautiful.

So thank you, Dad.  And thank you for being supportive of my recent loss.  I wish you and T.C. could both see the tears that I’m crying right now.  They aren’t tears of anguish or self-pity.  They are tears of love and gratitude and forgiveness because I’m finally old enough to begin to understand your side of my story, and I’m finally ready to share my side of it with you.

Dad (Bob) was so busy taking photos, there aren't many like this gem <3!

As far as gifts go, it’s not all that pretty or pricey.  But I can say it’s from deep within my heart and I hope on this particular day, it speaks to yours.  And to those of you who can’t celebrate Father’s Day with your dads or with your children, if they’re still around – please don’t give up on each other.  Yes, sometimes it helps to let go for a little while.  Sometimes people need space and perspective. But no matter how wide the chasm, no matter how loudly the door slammed, it doesn’t have to stay closed forever.  Love will always find a way.  And sometimes, love needs to start inside you before you can see it in others.

Happy Father’s Day.

Back on the Horse

The only constant in our lives is change.

And honestly, that’s the way it should be.  If we stay stagnant for too long, we’re not growing, or stretching, or reaching our ultimate potential.

But change can be messy.  It can come when we’re not ready for it.  And it can hurt like a bitch. 

I’ve spent the last month postponing pain.  It’s a trick I learned very early in life as a performer and a dancer.  You can push so hard and build so much momentum that you don’t feel the pain.  You can feed off the stress, the euphoria and the inertia to just keep going and doing.  But when you stop, and you always do eventually stop – that’s when you have to face the pain.

Sometimes it’s strictly physical – like dancing for hours on blistered, bleeding toes, or doing an entire show through a screaming migraine.  And you don’t feel a thing until the applause has subsided and you’re on your way home for the night.  Then – WHAM! (Not the 80’s pop band.)  You collide with the pain that you’ve been suppressing for hours.  You ice, bandage, medicate, and ultimately curl up into a whimpering ball in bed for a few hours believing that when you wake up the next morning, it will have lessened to the point that you can function again.

Image: geocities.ws

But when the pain is on the inside, it’s a different ballgame.  You can push it off for longer.  What – it’s starting to hurt?  Turn on your go-to music playlist.  A tickle of depression? Recite a mantra while putting on mascara and go out for a night with friends!  Keep over-booking.  Keep making jokes.  Keep focusing on the next thing and the next and the next…

That is, until your last shred of sanity is bare.  Until you’re sitting in your living room at 3:33pm without having accomplished anything on your To Do List, starving, but unable to commit to getting dressed and foraging for food.  Until you know the only way to get past is finally go through…

This post is not me getting through.

This post is me acknowledging that it’s time to get through.  This post is me getting back on the horse.  Back on the bicycle.  Back… to the Future!!! – by preparing to deal with the past.  

Image: moviepilot.com

I’m not the protagonist of Eat, Pray, Love.  I don’t have a bunch of money saved up to take a year off from life traveling the globe, devouring food, slurping red wine and banging three generations of B+ List actors. (Would that I did – winning Powerball ticket PLEASE!!!)

But I realize that if I want to get back on that crazy train to success that I was momentarily aboard in the not-so-distant past, I’m going to have to let myself feel the pain, pick up the pieces and move on.

I welcome your thoughts, experiences, coping strategies, words of encouragement, agreements, disagreements, and mostly, your company, as I take this journey over the next few weeks.  And of course, I understand if this is too icky, too close to home or just not your ‘thing’ right now.

Image: Neogaf.com

Grief is F*cking UGLY.  Believe me – I am one UGLY crier!!! (A fact that way too many of my friends can attest to!)  But I know I can’t and more importantly, don’t want to do this alone.

So thank you – in advance.

Hillary J.

ReelReview - A new Web-Thingy...

Defining your career goals is the first step toward achieving your career goals.

I realized a few months back that I wasn't going to be happy as just a writer, if I wasn't acting too.

View from a Brooklyn film studio! I <3 NY!

When I first moved to NYC, I was afraid to say it out loud, because I thought it would sound a little too ridiculous.  After all, I'd just spent the previous two years completing a BFA in Creative Writing for Entertainment so that I could sit happily behind the scenes pounding out pages for other actors to bring to life.

But the closer I got to that reality, the more I realized that everything I ever endeavored to do in the film industry stemmed from my desire to be an actress.  And when I turned my back on that part of myself, I lost all passion and drive for all the other parts of filmmaking that I thought I loved.  So I started to streamline my vision for me.  Here in the city, I'm an actress who also writes.  Sure - I get roped into other things from time to time, but I'm now much clearer on how I define myself and what I do.  Ironically, it's gotten me much further much faster than the tail chasing I did down in Florida, where I tried to be everything for everyone except myself.

As much as I've wanted to be part of a web-series since I got here (and even before,) I drew a hard line in the sand for myself saying that I didn't want to go it alone.  I didn't want to be a one-stop shop - a Robert Rodriguez - a WalMart Super Store of film production.  I would do things as part of a team or I just wouldn't do them. 

I'm certainly not throwing shade at anyone ambitious enough to be a one-man-band with a camera.  I respect those people immensely.  I just know it's more fun for me to be with the band than a solo artist.

So my heart disintegrated when one of my creative partners bailed on me half-way through developing a new project.  I didn't want to give up, but I wasn't going to turn myself into a martyr over it either.  Although I believed my partner would return, or I'd find a new partner who shares my passion for that project, I wasn't sure where to go next. 

In the meantime, I took a look at another friend's sketches.  They were good.  We started talking about how easy it would be to film one.  And then we weren't just talking anymore - we were actually work-shopping the script.  Then we shot a few test runs.  Then we just freakin' did it!

Why all this prelude for a silly little YouTube comedy sketch that's less than three minutes long?  Because it's more than just a silly comedy sketch.  It's a step on the road to fulfillment that started months ago when I started to get real with myself and define what I wanted.  This was another person's (Kathrine Scott's) vision.  And she trusted me as an actress to be a part of it. And I'm honored.  And she let me workshop the script with her.  And it was fun! And everything is sooooo much easier when it's fun...

That said - Enjoy!

A Little V-Day LOOOOOVE! (Music Video)

Hey All!

I know lots of peeps who let today get them angry, depressed and bitter.  Well - the only dark thoughts I try to have on V-day are of CHOCOLATE!!!

It's been a while since I've celebated... OOPS!  (pardon my Freudian slip!) CELEBRATED Valentines Day with one particular special someone, but I have so many special people in my life, that I thought I'd make a special treat for ALL of you!

Here's me KILLING IT on my Uke, playing a romantic little blast from the past! So whether you already have a Valentine or not - I hope you'll still be MINE <3!!!

Don't Quit Your Day Job - Or Do... Eventually!

I got tagged in the following Facebook Post by a friend today:

RATS!!! I just got called for BCG work on “SHOW NAME” tomorrow, but I'm already booked with an interview and training for a new job. I know BCG work isn't a huge deal, but it IS a step closer to doing what I want to do. Industry peeps, how and when is it appropriate to bow out of other work last minute to pursue the dream? I don't want to burn any bridges. Help!

www.reddit.com via giphy.com

So of course, I asked if I could use this question in a new blog post, (she agreed – obviously!) since this is a quandary many artists face.

It doesn’t matter which side of the camera/curtain you work on, which city you live in or which of the arts your pursuing.  This is a serious question that deserves more than just a comment on her Facebook page – so let’s talk DAY JOBS…

1)   It’s pretty impossible to pursue a career in the arts if you are completely homeless.  You are expected to show up clean to STUNNING at jobs, interviews and auditions – especially in the performing arts.  But you have to at least smell good and your clothes should never look like you slept in them – at least not until you wrap!  This means that you need a home…

2)   Homes require MONEY.  The recent economic crash led lots of people to ‘down scale’ their lives.  My friends have eliminated financial redundancies like landlines, cable TV and in some cases even Internet because so many wireless plans offer portable hotspots through smart phones.  But you can only scale back so far before it limits your ability to be hired!

policymic.tumblr.com via giphy.com

3)   Work in the arts – even CREW jobs like Sound Design, Production Assistants and Lighting gigs ebb and flow.  Many of these jobs are short term at best and frequently hire educated professionals on a day-to-day basis.  If you live in a good market and you hustle hard, you could average 3 – 4 working days per week – maybe…

4)   Jobs in the arts – especially if they are entry level – tend to pay right around minimum wage – just for longer hours than you’d work at your typical Micky D’s…  The work times also vary widely and shift from day to day making it pretty impossible to try to work multiple jobs in the same 24-hour span.

So what does all this mean?

comedycentral.tumblr.com via giphy.com

One of my writing teachers told us the best thing we could do would be to marry someone rich who would be okay with supporting us.  Chris Hardwick – I’m still waiting for you to call me!  (Our children would the cutest little blue-eyed geeks you could imagine…sigh)

In the interim, however, many of us find it necessary to take “day jobs,” which run the gambit from waiting tables, to nanny-ing to cleaning houses to becoming a professional fluffer… (and if you don’t know what that is PLEASE don’t look it up!)

Three of my friends recently made that leap of faith by leaving shift jobs in favor of freelancing in order to make their schedules more flexible for their art. 

I’m not telling the girl who asked me this question to walk away from a brand new paying job that she’s obviously gone to some trouble to apply for.  But if you don’t show up for those first few days/weeks of training, you might end up terminated before you’re able to cash that first paycheck.

So you have to make a choice.  Here’s what I advise:

1)   NEVER Lie – It’s a terrible habit to develop. It reflects poorly on your work ethic and you never

southpark-gifs.tumblr.com via giphy.com

know when one boss might know another.  The world is much smaller than you think.  “But-but… I’m an ACTOR!” you say.  “I make people believe fantasy for a living.  It’s what I do!”  For a paying audience? Yes. For people depending on you be somewhere and do something? NO.  In the words of Eric Cartman, “Not cool…”

2)   Let Your Shift Boss Know Your Story – Everyone knows somebody with a dream. And most of us have dreams of our own at one point or another.  You might be surprised by how supportive a supervisor can be.  Work hard at your shift job. Show them how lucky they are to have you.  Build relationships with your coworkers, and discuss with your boss the best possible ways you can “play hooky” without leaving the company in the lurch.  Maybe you’ll find out Tuesdays are really slow, so it’s no biggie if you call in on a Monday night to ditch out.

3)   If Your Boss is NOT Supportive, FIND ANOTHER JOB – I’m serious. Life is too short to spend it pleasing anyone other than YOU.  You’ll find something else that’s more flexible with people who are more supportive.  Just keep looking.

FirstAndMonday via giphy.com

4)   Keep Pursuing Your Art Every Available Moment – Here’s what happens when you don’t: your cool job with nice people, a supportive boss and/or your supportive spouse eventually become prison wardens keeping you from your dreams.  You’ll blow a fuse, say or do something terrible that you’ll never be able to take back, and burn all those proverbial bridges you are currently worried about.  What’s worse?  By the time that happens – you won’t even CARE!  Because you’ll have had it.  So you work Tuesday – Saturday?  Make sure you’re booking gigs every Sunday and Monday.  Sleep when you’re rich and famous!

5)   Don’t Get Too Comfortable – Your day job pays $800/week?  Awesome. Live on $500.  Or $400.  Don’t go on cruises.  Don’t go to fancy shows and pricey bars. Don’t get hooked on upscale clothes, shoes or cosmetics.  Because when you start spending every dollar you make every week – and it’s super easy to do – you get trapped in the lifestyle of that paycheck.  So now you “CAN’T” leave your day job unless, you know, you get offered a leading role on Law and Order SVU – which will never happen, because you can’t miss a day of work to audition, workshop or get set experience because if you do, you won’t be able to afford that set of custom gels every other week at that cute salon that brings you ‘complimentary’ mimosas…

6)   Save Money and Make an Exit Strategy – Remind yourself DAILY that your day job is only temporary.  Continue to set goals daily and weekly as an artist. Remind yourself that you ‘don’t belong’ in the office, or with your coworkers.  If you become ‘one of them,’ you truly run the risk of losing yourself in the process. Stash some cash in savings or at least pay off any debts/loans you have. That way, when you take your leap, you’ll be able to live off of less money from day one.

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7)   Do the Math – All opportunities are not created equal.  If you’ve already played a Brooklyn Hipster Pedestrian three times in a month, maybe it’s okay to tell Casting that you’re already booked for the day they want to use you. (NOT a lie if you’re booked to work at your actual JOB!) That way, next week when you’re offered a featured spot at SAG scale because you can ride a unicycle, you don’t feel guilty taking THAT day off, and your boss will be happy to give it to you. (PS – Whenever refusing a casting, ALWAYS SAY you’re already BOOKED on another job.  And then, of course say, thank you!)

8)   Set Specific Goals and Stick to Them (Within Reason) – Nothing pushes you harder than putting goals in writing and reviewing them daily.  I put sticky notes on my mirror.  That way, when I’m checking out that fine ass in my ‘first change,’ I’m also reminding myself that I’m working toward a SAG speaking role by the end of February.  If I don’t land it until March 3^rd, I’m not going to flog myself or give up on my dreams.  But make a plan.  How long before you want to be following your career goals full time?  Six months? Eighteen?  Get out a calendar, a pen and some PAPER.  (I’m serious about the pen and PAPER.  It really makes a difference.) Do a little math.  Need to pay off a student loan?  Can you at least pay off enough to refi at a lower payment in ten months?  Well, write down the steps and dates to accomplish them by.  And most importantly, decide when this job’s expiration date is.  Don’t say – “when something better comes along.”  You’ll spend your life waiting instead of LIVING.

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So no, it’s probably not worth blowing off your training for your new job just to work background on a network TV show tomorrow – unless of course, you’ve decided while reading this to just throw caution to the wind entirely and ditch the day job altogether!  But if you think this shift job can be a port in a financial storm for a bit, then by all means, hunker down – but don’t loose sight of the bigger picture.

And remember – everything CAN happen for a reason!  Maybe by saying no, thank you to “NAME OF SHOW,” tonight, when you’re free in a few weeks, you’ll get a chance at working it again in a more featured capacity that you’d have missed out on if you worked it tomorrow!  Stranger things have happened – like “blizzards” for example! Hope this helps!