It all started with a phone call from Colin.
"Hey guys, want to go to Vegas for Fourth of July weekend?"
Now, I like to think that my life has been so bizarrely wonderful and fun thus far because I choose to live my life in a constant state of actor improv. When someone comes up with an insane scheme or idea, I'm often the first insane asshole to say "Absolutely, let's do it." So when Colin called to invite my roommates and I to share a hotel room in Vegas for the weekend with him and his girlfriend, there was only one logical rockstar response: "Why the hell not?"
Now fun backstory: Colin is my ex from way back in the day...(like I was 18 way back in the day)... but Colin is one of those wonderful people that is always up for an insane adventure or trip so he quickly meshed in with the gaggle of wonderful weirdos I call pals. In fact, I think he has hung out more with my friends than I have sometimes...
"So let me get this straight, you are driving to Vegas for 4th of July, with your roommates. And you're staying in a hotel room with them, your ex-boyfriend, and his current girlfriend?"
This is the voice of my mother. She is not really admonishing me or even dumbfounded by my 4th of July festivities, she's just fact checking. Bless whatever higher power you call holy, but my parents are rip-roaringly fantastic and not only trust me (even when I engage in what other parents may call questionable life choices) but when I regale them with my latest tale of gypsy shenanigans, they laugh right along with me, often with a hint of longing coloring their voices. They tell me I keep them young. I hope I can continue to do the same for myself.
So in the spirit of not growing up, my roommates and I packed all of our necessary Vegas partying paraphernalia into Gilda the Corolla and headed towards the desert with 6 discs of sweet tunes rotating in Gilda's belly and a mini video cam documenting the whole road trip. One of the discs was a mix I had made shortly before we left (like 10 minutes before we left) which pumped the music of Elvis, Dean, Frank, Wayne and any other classic cliche Vegas warbler I could think of into our ears as we bounced through the dust towards Sin City.
The first glitter of the city hit our eyes as the sun was on it's way out, so we got the lovely view of the last of the rays bouncing of the many reflective surfaces of the countless casinos. It was pretty and shit, but mostly I was just excited because there was a pyramid...A pyramid for Pete's sake. This place was clearly a giant playground of Win. We moved at a glacial pace down the strip, rubber-necking to look at the oddities: recreations of famous structures from all over the world miniaturized, swallowed by some giant booze-hound with a gambling addiction, and regurgitated in the middle of the desert. Sure it's essentially a vomited town of vice, but you can't look away... you turn into a little raccoon and you just can't tear yourself away from the shiny.
After negotiating Gilda into a sweet elevator-adjacent parking spot, we headed towards the room. Now let me explain something: if you park in a hotel garage, it WILL take you 30 minutes to hike to your room. Pack the canteen and the granola bars because your ass is walking into the hotel, past the front desk, past some random naked mermaid sculpture which some guy is fondling while posing for a photo op, past Bar #1, through an indoor rainforest, past bar #2, through the giant casino, past nightclub #1, more casino, nightclub #2, the hotel giftshop, and FINALLY... you'll see them, glittering like an oasis after your mighty trek: the hotel elevators. Once we finally made it and booze was procured, we got to the business of drinking. In my zeal to get partying, I made the unfortunate mistake of trying to look all sexy and smooth drinking out of the champagne bottle...which resulted in me shooting a foamy jet of champagne up my nose. Talk about a classy dame.
After we had a sufficient buzz going, we headed to the casino. Now drinks in the casino are free...if you're gambling. So if you're a scrappy gypsy like me, you can work out the system by watching where the cocktail waitresses are and plopping down at a cheap slot machine near them. Put pennies in the machine slowly until you get your drink and then stalk your next cocktail waitress of choice. It maximizes your drinking potential. And since I'm not much of a gambler, I chose to indulge in a few of my favorite things: drinkin' and dancin'. Unfortunately, my friends began dropping like flies...claiming "jet lag" and other bullshit excuses that are not acceptable Vegas behavior. I was dead set on making it to the sunrise. Thankfully, my roommate is a fantastic wing-woman and the next thing I knew we were at one of the many hotel bars and I was talking to a very attractive Portuguese guy who was living in Sweden finishing his PhD in biochemistry...only in Vegas. Needless to say, I was able to keep partying until sunrise. I slept for about 3 hours and then decided I was going to leave Treasure Island and head back to the Mirage...lucky for me there was a tram that ferried guests back and forth between the two hotels...it was the most posh walk of shame ever.
After a crazy night of Vegas partying, one must always visit a Vegas buffet the next morning. They are the Gardens of Hungover Eden. Seriously. I had eggs benedict, bacon, sushi, and crab legs. And free mimosas. Sure Vegas can be tacky as hell, but GOD DANG do they know how to get you partying again first thing. After breakfast, we hit the pool, I went to see a sweet sexy show called Absinthe, and then we all regrouped for another night of partying. The boys played Blackjack, I stalked slot machines near cocktail waitress for free booze, and we ended up at the Revolution Lounge for gay night and some sweet dancing to thumping techo beats. However, sunrise was still several hours away. And despite the mere 3 hours I had slept the night before, I was dead set on making it to sunrise again. So after changing out of my 4-inch high heels, my roommates and I decided to walk the strip. We walked through every hotel and casino we could find. Excalibur, Bellagio, Luxor, New York New York, Caesar's Palace...each one with it's own insane design and style. Excalibur was my favorite. It was the Medieval Times of casinos. And the Thunder from Down Under perform there (think hot shirtless Aussies gyrating onstage for your cheap pleasure).
On our stroll about the strip, we danced to street musicians, made friends with random strangers also walking the strip, and shared champagne with a group of 20-somethings opening bottles of the stuff on a random sidewalk...oh, and we made it to the sunrise. By the time we got back to the Mirage, we were so giggly and slap happy we couldn't sleep, so we went on a field trip to my car (which consisted of us walking about the Mirage in our pajamas, like rockstars). By the time we fell asleep, it was after 7am...and then we had to get up around 10am to pack our shit up and head home.
So we packed our stuff and shuffled, bleary-eyed back through the megalopolis that is the Mirage and towards Gilda. After sufficiently caffeinating ourselves, we headed for home: under-slept, well-partied, and one weekend richer in a weekend full of fantastic stories...some of which cannot be printed here...hey, what happens in Vegas...
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
First Month in LA-LA land
Well I officially have my first month under my belt. I am living with my friends in Eagle Rock still, in a room one of my housemates has dubbed the "Womb Room" for its peaceful nurturing vibe and the warm glow emitting from the ikea lamp in the corner. I am still unpacking...gradually finding places to put things and realizing that I STILL have way too many clothes (and books...but it's far easier for me to part with my clothes). For the most part, I begrudgingly let my interior decorating take a backseat for the first month while I got myself going with my acting shenanigans. Although, my housemates are impressed with the amount of decorating I have done. I told them it's just the bright hippie colors, it distracts from the chaotic disorganization.
During my first week in LA I was kind of a tasmanian devil of productivity. I was used to the regional markets: having to research theatre and film companies, going through with a fine tooth comb finding every little acting opportunity and going out for everything that was feasible within the laws of space time continuum. The same process can be applied out here, there is just an extreme abundance of opportunities, casting sites, acting studios, casting directors, agents, etc. that combing through them all can be staggering and damn near impossible. But I dove in, spending my first week registering with casting websites, joining AFTRA (oh goodbye $1,660 to union dues), submitting for and going on auditions. I was a little intense and therefore a little drained after that week. I have since tried to compartmentalize my tasks so my ADD brain doesn't try to follow 798 tangents at once and short circuit resulting in me, facedown on the keyboard, in a pool of my own drool.
I do feel like I am settling in more. I have connected with a few friends out here from past projects and from college, even though people's schedules and the sprawl of Los Angeles and it's various neighborhoods sometimes makes it difficult. Also during my first week, I joined up with an indie film collective called We Make Movies. Their mission is simple: get your shit made and make the film industry suck less. They hold workshops where screenwriters can have their scripts read aloud by actors and, afterwards, they get feedback on it. I also attended a screening of short films that their organization helped get made. I've already made a few friends within the group...it's just a great motley crew of folks: intelligent, talented, funny, driven and extremely creative.
As far as doing my own stuff, it's been touch and go. I'm sure some people would say I'm doing great for only having been here a month, but the overachiever in me, of course, is always reaching skywards. I was called back for a Sara Lee commercial (mmmmm pie) and have developed a short film idea that I am currently transforming into some semblance of a script. I also shot some lovely headshots with my housemate at Venice Beach. I want to get so much more done, but everything costs money (which is rapidly running out, as I expected it to) and I'm trying not to short-circuit. I started acting classes with Fran Montano at the Actors Workout Studio, which is helping to remind me that I am actively working on something at all times.
But there is so much I want to do. My mind is constantly leaping to non-acting activities that I want to learn: ukelele, rock climbing, scuba diving, banjo, bungee jumping off the Bridge to Nowhere... Now I know my penchant for not being able to stay in one place very long, so maybe all these things are ventures I should actually pursue, to keep my mind actively learning, never getting bored or complacent. Or something like that. At any rate, I have jotted all my lovely things I want to do on lists sprinkled decoratively amid the Womb Room. I'm still furiously gung-ho about acting, I just want other projects to make me feel good, too.
So I will keep everyone posted on these endeavors (both acting and non). Speaking of acting, I did get a callback for a short film shooting in Paris in December....Now wouldn't that be a lovely holiday present to me...Oh and did I mention I went to Vegas last weekend? Maybe in a later post...
Bonne nuit,
Jessica
During my first week in LA I was kind of a tasmanian devil of productivity. I was used to the regional markets: having to research theatre and film companies, going through with a fine tooth comb finding every little acting opportunity and going out for everything that was feasible within the laws of space time continuum. The same process can be applied out here, there is just an extreme abundance of opportunities, casting sites, acting studios, casting directors, agents, etc. that combing through them all can be staggering and damn near impossible. But I dove in, spending my first week registering with casting websites, joining AFTRA (oh goodbye $1,660 to union dues), submitting for and going on auditions. I was a little intense and therefore a little drained after that week. I have since tried to compartmentalize my tasks so my ADD brain doesn't try to follow 798 tangents at once and short circuit resulting in me, facedown on the keyboard, in a pool of my own drool.
I do feel like I am settling in more. I have connected with a few friends out here from past projects and from college, even though people's schedules and the sprawl of Los Angeles and it's various neighborhoods sometimes makes it difficult. Also during my first week, I joined up with an indie film collective called We Make Movies. Their mission is simple: get your shit made and make the film industry suck less. They hold workshops where screenwriters can have their scripts read aloud by actors and, afterwards, they get feedback on it. I also attended a screening of short films that their organization helped get made. I've already made a few friends within the group...it's just a great motley crew of folks: intelligent, talented, funny, driven and extremely creative.
As far as doing my own stuff, it's been touch and go. I'm sure some people would say I'm doing great for only having been here a month, but the overachiever in me, of course, is always reaching skywards. I was called back for a Sara Lee commercial (mmmmm pie) and have developed a short film idea that I am currently transforming into some semblance of a script. I also shot some lovely headshots with my housemate at Venice Beach. I want to get so much more done, but everything costs money (which is rapidly running out, as I expected it to) and I'm trying not to short-circuit. I started acting classes with Fran Montano at the Actors Workout Studio, which is helping to remind me that I am actively working on something at all times.
But there is so much I want to do. My mind is constantly leaping to non-acting activities that I want to learn: ukelele, rock climbing, scuba diving, banjo, bungee jumping off the Bridge to Nowhere... Now I know my penchant for not being able to stay in one place very long, so maybe all these things are ventures I should actually pursue, to keep my mind actively learning, never getting bored or complacent. Or something like that. At any rate, I have jotted all my lovely things I want to do on lists sprinkled decoratively amid the Womb Room. I'm still furiously gung-ho about acting, I just want other projects to make me feel good, too.
So I will keep everyone posted on these endeavors (both acting and non). Speaking of acting, I did get a callback for a short film shooting in Paris in December....Now wouldn't that be a lovely holiday present to me...Oh and did I mention I went to Vegas last weekend? Maybe in a later post...
Bonne nuit,
Jessica
My fine foxy housemates and me, Viva Las Vegas
Friday, June 24, 2011
Western Migratory Patterns of the Gypsy White Rabbit
Why, hello there my fine friends.
Well, it was quite a migration but the White Rabbit has finally landed on the wicked west coast. It has been a topsy turvy journey to get here, but all the good journeys are, right? In the past four years, I have moved a total of 11 times and have landed in the City of Angels, my ninth city I have called home. In the years preceding the big move, I was a company member at a Shakespeare company. I did stunts, swordfighting, and Shakespeare in Pennsylvania. I toured the lovely Carolinas with a touring production of A Christmas Carol. I moved to Florida for a warm and exquisite year. That place I miss. Living in a little bohemian artists' community called Gulfport, I could wake up in the morning to the sounds of my housemate playing mandolin, stroll through our garden dotted with giant metal sculptures done by our landlord, past the gypsy vardo that served as my housemate's bedroom and settle into a hammock strung between two palm trees where I drank my coffee and stared at the water lapping at our private beach. I hung out with actors, jammed with musicians and artists at our local hippie commune The Blueberry Patch, and got to do some amazing plays with some phenomenal performers.
By now you are probably asking yourself, why the hell did I leave? Well, the demise of a lengthy relationship coupled with my ever-present desire to make it to the west coast propelled me home to Kentucky where I dyed my hair red and bartended for a year, saving the money that would send me on my journey. I still miss Florida from time to time but, for those who know me well, it is rare that I can stay in one place for very long anyway. So, I packed everything I could into my Corolla named Gilda and headed on my way. I got to visit old friends in Chicago, catch up with an even older friend (from back in my childhood) in Kansas, and then I made my way to the exquisite Rocky Mountains. There I met up with a dear friend from Wales and we proceeded to traipse about the Denver/Boulder/National Park areas: spending a frigid night camping, hiking about and trying the countless delectable microbrews the great state of Colorado has to offer. From there I bid farewell to my Welsh amigo and sally'd forth onto Salt Lake City, spending time on Antelope Island (the best place to watch the sunset from in Salt Lake).
I truly cannot describe the constant visual stimulus you encounter when driving westward. Every view is so stunning that it is hard to believe it to be real, you find yourself thinking instead that someone has painted the horizon to be so extraordinary. After leaving the Rockies behind, I headed towards the Sierras where I encountered a road block. Snow in the mountains + I have no chains for tires = 3 hour detour through a lower elevation route. Still, the drive was pretty and I arrived, road weary and late, at a friend's house in San Francisco. I spent a few days there, skipping about the city, seeing shows, and participating in impromptu photoshoots. And finally I arrived (almost 3 weeks ago) in Los Angeles.
I am currently sleeping on a very attractive Ikea sleeper sofa, living with two fantastic friends in Eagle Rock. I am slowly getting my bearings but am already in love with this city. Sure it has its flaws (an insane obsession with beauty and skewed perception of what beauty actually is) but then you find yourself walking down the boardwalk in Venice Beach, passing a man dressed as a tree on stilts, various artists peddling their wares from blankets and booths, and a colorful cast of characters strolling along beside you. This, I can dig. So stay tuned. We only go further down the rabbit hole from here.
Well, it was quite a migration but the White Rabbit has finally landed on the wicked west coast. It has been a topsy turvy journey to get here, but all the good journeys are, right? In the past four years, I have moved a total of 11 times and have landed in the City of Angels, my ninth city I have called home. In the years preceding the big move, I was a company member at a Shakespeare company. I did stunts, swordfighting, and Shakespeare in Pennsylvania. I toured the lovely Carolinas with a touring production of A Christmas Carol. I moved to Florida for a warm and exquisite year. That place I miss. Living in a little bohemian artists' community called Gulfport, I could wake up in the morning to the sounds of my housemate playing mandolin, stroll through our garden dotted with giant metal sculptures done by our landlord, past the gypsy vardo that served as my housemate's bedroom and settle into a hammock strung between two palm trees where I drank my coffee and stared at the water lapping at our private beach. I hung out with actors, jammed with musicians and artists at our local hippie commune The Blueberry Patch, and got to do some amazing plays with some phenomenal performers.
By now you are probably asking yourself, why the hell did I leave? Well, the demise of a lengthy relationship coupled with my ever-present desire to make it to the west coast propelled me home to Kentucky where I dyed my hair red and bartended for a year, saving the money that would send me on my journey. I still miss Florida from time to time but, for those who know me well, it is rare that I can stay in one place for very long anyway. So, I packed everything I could into my Corolla named Gilda and headed on my way. I got to visit old friends in Chicago, catch up with an even older friend (from back in my childhood) in Kansas, and then I made my way to the exquisite Rocky Mountains. There I met up with a dear friend from Wales and we proceeded to traipse about the Denver/Boulder/National Park areas: spending a frigid night camping, hiking about and trying the countless delectable microbrews the great state of Colorado has to offer. From there I bid farewell to my Welsh amigo and sally'd forth onto Salt Lake City, spending time on Antelope Island (the best place to watch the sunset from in Salt Lake).
I truly cannot describe the constant visual stimulus you encounter when driving westward. Every view is so stunning that it is hard to believe it to be real, you find yourself thinking instead that someone has painted the horizon to be so extraordinary. After leaving the Rockies behind, I headed towards the Sierras where I encountered a road block. Snow in the mountains + I have no chains for tires = 3 hour detour through a lower elevation route. Still, the drive was pretty and I arrived, road weary and late, at a friend's house in San Francisco. I spent a few days there, skipping about the city, seeing shows, and participating in impromptu photoshoots. And finally I arrived (almost 3 weeks ago) in Los Angeles.
I am currently sleeping on a very attractive Ikea sleeper sofa, living with two fantastic friends in Eagle Rock. I am slowly getting my bearings but am already in love with this city. Sure it has its flaws (an insane obsession with beauty and skewed perception of what beauty actually is) but then you find yourself walking down the boardwalk in Venice Beach, passing a man dressed as a tree on stilts, various artists peddling their wares from blankets and booths, and a colorful cast of characters strolling along beside you. This, I can dig. So stay tuned. We only go further down the rabbit hole from here.
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