Inaugural Post

So let's face it. There are a million and five actors and actresses out there. And when you look at the massive numbers and compare it to the number of actors who are actually working, the statistics can be fucking depressing. So what can make you stand out as an actor in this competitive world? Well, that's what I intend to research through this blog.

I've found several things discouraging thus far. One of them: most of the actors I truly admire have had at least two or three films under their belt by the time that they were my age. Take Aussie actor Sam Worthington (more on him in later posts, along with superfluous fangirling, as promised). By my calculations, he was 24 by the time his first film, Bootmen, was released. Which means, in actuality, he was probably 23 when the movie was filmed. Say whaaat? Tom Hardy was 22 when Star Trek: Nemesis was filmed and/or released. Neil Patrick Harris was still in the womb when his career took off ("Mr. and Mrs. Harris...it appears the fetus is...reciting Shakespeare?").

I've done all the right things. Years of acting lessons. Workshops. College, for God's sake. I've been in almost forty different plays (one-acts included). I've trained with a voice coach since I was eight years old, trained in classical music since I was fifteen. I've done everything, and yet, look at me. Here I am, 24 years old, just marveling, drooling, and envying the careers of these actors I admire. It's enough to send a person on a one-way trip to IPityMyselfville. I've done everything except one thing:

I haven't gotten out there yet.

Two birds with one burger?

Why? Because I don't feel like I'm ready. Look, people, I don't want to sit around for seventeen years, casting couch after casting couch, hours waiting in line, just hoping the "right audition" comes along. I don't want to rely on three waitressing jobs and prostitution to pay my mortgage. No, when I get out there to start "trying," I want to do so with guns blazing, and nothing in the world standing in my way. And, simply put, I have too many ducks out of line right now, and those little fuckers need to get in a row first.

My mom once asked me, "What exactly is it that you want out of this acting thing? What would be your ideal final situation?" I could respond to that easily. I want to be able to support myself, solely on my acting career. Do I want fame? Fortune? I mean, hey, that'd be kickass, and I won't turn it down. But trust me when I say this: I would be perfectly happy playing a two-bit role in a soap opera, or being the tree swaying in the wind in the back of an off-off-off-Broadway production of The Mikado if it just meant that I could wake up every day, walk straight on set, or straight to the theatre.

And I will gratefully work three waitressing jobs, and prostitute, if it means that I can make it. But I'm going to do everything in my damn power first, so when I'm there taking off my clothes and carrying fifteen plates of food at a time, I'll know with every certainty that I've put myself in the best possible position (that's what she said) to start this life.

This will be my journey. This will be me, sharing my influences. The people whose careers have given me much to work from. The people whose careers have shown me everything I don't want to be (aka The Room, in all its infinite awesomeness). Films I've admired. Plays I've experienced (either through participation, or through observation).

Suggestions for films to see, performances to check out, are always appreciated. After all, what else is going to shape my craft?