Big Country Blues Trailer

Big Country Blues Trailer
Sarah e Jacobs recognized as OUTSTANDING ACTRESS IN A DRAMA SERIES at LA Webfest! And nominated for BEST ACTRESS IN A DRAMA at ITVFest! Click to watch the trailer!

Monday, November 29, 2010

Rain on a Parade is Nothing

I started the day with a very productive laundromat visit. I just bought a backpack/duffel hybrid that got the toting job done without any major problems. And, I devised a plan that maximized wash/dry time with a run over the Williamsburg bridge. I was really proud of myself for my time management.

I loaded my busted Ipod with newly downloaded Christmas tunes and headed into the city for a full day of running around. I was in a great mood, very motivated, the weather was beautiful for traipsing around the city. And then, people started trying to crap on my parade (What? I know that's not how the adage goes, but here in NYC people don't just rain on your good mood, that would be manageable. No people here take big ol' dumps on it, laugh and then brag to their friends about how big it was.... too much? eh, oh well.) I had some stuff to deal with from some ungrateful people, I got a nasty message from someone else that really pissed me off/hurt my feelings and I may have had few tears in front of the Bed Bath and Beyond where all I needed to do was buy a new shower head for my Goddamn apartment that goes from scalding hot to freeze-your-nipples-off cold in the matter of a second. The hot dog man was staring, a homeless guy started yelling obscenities at me- Dude! Seriously? I'm crying here. I got off the phone with my Mom, who was helping me with one of the situations and checked my email to find a few friends had commented on my last post. And through the tears, in front of the BB&B I smiled. A huge, uncontrollable smile (thank you friends :). I think the hot dog man thought I was schizophrenic, but whatever. I decided to move on with my day with a smile on my face. And f*ck everyone who wasn't okay with that.

I had a reading with a new theater company tonight. The director saw one of my shows a while back and invited me in to read a new play at a playwright's forum. I jumped at the opportunity, and picked up the script after my showerhead run to have a chance to read it beforehand. I was reading the part of Hazel "the Caucasian lover" I was the white girl dating a black guy in 1968. It was a good play, I had a great time reading. I always wonder how animated to be during a reading. Let me set the stage (so to speak) for you non-actory folk: Chairs are arranged in a semi-circle and actors are seated according to character relationships (example-I was seated next to the guy I was "dating"). In front of us were chairs filled with writers (one, the writer of the play we read) directors, some company people etc. And the play is simply, read. Some people go all out throwing their voices and doing big arm movements...awkward, if you ask me. We're in a small room, sitting down, very close to one another. I try to stay as truthful and down to earth as possible - but I'm sure this is all a matter of opinion. Everyone was super nice. I even ran into a friend I did a show with and hadn't seen in a while. We were ushered out fairly quickly, which was a bit odd that we didn't stick around for discussion but I think they needed to get out early. Who knows if anything will come from these readings, but I've been exposed to people that I previously didn't know, which is the point. And you never know who is sitting in that room...

Afterwards I picked up some leftover stuff at my old apartment, so hopefully I never have to set foot in there again. All in all, once I decided to say F you to Negative Nancys today that just wanted to bring down my parade with a big smelly bang, I had a very productive and satisfying day. :) Good work.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Picking up the Pieces

I've been rehearsing for the upcoming show, working and trying to pull my life together in the new place for the past few weeks. I've had some interesting experiences both in my work and in my personal life. I'm adjusting to a new phase that my friends have dubbed, "Single Sarah." I basically haven't been without a bf in 5 years, so this is taking some getting used to. I don't date. I'm horribly awkward on a "nice to meet you" one-on-one basis. And I also have yet to perfect the whole art of the single girl-single boy number exchange. I'm a horrible liar, so I try to avoid it at all costs since most people can see right through me anyway (I think this is why I'm an actor. I love the truth. As if you couldn't tell from my brutal honesty and flair for TMI). Anyway, I'm trying to figure out what to say to the men I'm not so interested in. You know, other than, "Sorry, Charlie. I don't want to give you my numba because I'll end up screening your shit anyway." Because, well, that's just mean. So I'm looking for a more acceptable version of that...let me know if you come up with anything.

We've been rehearsing for the upcoming show at a fancy-schmancy apartment that belongs to someone's girlfriend's mom (or something like that). It's big enough for some of our larger group rehearsals and free, so that's where we set up shop. We all have to take off our shoes and the director rolls up the rug before we start. We try to move all things breakable....Well, last weekend we were in the middle of a fairly hectic scene, everyone was into it, it was the first time we had done it as a whole...Things were going great and my Che revolutionary moment was just on the horizon when all of a sudden I saw the director's face contort, all the actors facing upstage started to make a "ooohooouhhh" sound in unison, one girl smacked her hand to her face leaving only her bulging eyes visible. I turned to look in the direction of the back wall in time to see one of my cast mates sliding across the floor in his socks, arms outstretched in an attempt to save what looked like a very expensive piece of artwork before it hit the deck. The room held our breaths as he slammed into the wall, and the strange but clearly valuable angel sculpture and vase full of flowers that was next to it shattered into a million pieces on the floor of one of the nicest NYC apartments I've ever been in (it's rumored that Harrison Ford and Calista Flockhart have an apt in this building). We all froze. I felt like I was going to throw up. We heard the apartment owner running to the door of her bedroom. She swung open the door and stood there looking at the poor kid soaking wet from the vase water surrounded by bits of angel carcass. A leg here. A wing there. It was sickening. We couldn't move. No one said anything... Finally, after what seemed like hours the woman said in a low, incredulous voice, "That's a fortune...A fucking fortune. It's a fortune...That was a fortune..." She just kept saying it. Over and over. "That's a fucking fortune," her hand on her forehead. After moments of time standing still, somehow people started moving, picking up pieces of expensive angel bits. The cast gathered our things and left the director to remedy(?) the situation. Oh my God. I honestly could have yacked all over that perfectly waxed floor (but that would have been very unhelpful because then we'd have been left to clean up both the sculpture and the vomit...)

I'm not really sure what the end of that story is. We finished rehearsal elsewhere, but spent most of the time trying to shake the disaster that just occurred. Last I heard the woman was going to "see about insurance." It was apparently from one of the most famous artists in Mexico and is a one of a kind, irreplaceable sculpture. I'm pretty sure that artwork was worth more than my life. Actually, I know so. My Iphone was just appraised by the oh-so-amused Radio Shack employee at $33.18. My Ipod (which has gone only in one direction and only on shuffle for probably the last year) was quoted at a whopping $4.79. My furniture is Ikea, my TV is broken so everyone on it looks like a robot, the zoom on my camera sticks to one side, and my lamp is so furcrumpled (that's a Jewish word?) that it slumps over like it needs antidepressants. If I ever heard the price of that artwork, I'm sure it's a number that my broke-ass brain couldn't even comprehend. I could throw up now just thinking about it. But don't worry... I've gotten good in the past few months at controlling that urge. :)

In the past few weeks I've also given shopping tours to rich bitches, Highschool boys, and recessionistas. I've passed out some free shit on the street. I've checked in some TV personalities to a private party. I've dressed as Alice in Wonderland. I've put together furniture, I've danced, I've laughed, (not gonna lie) I've cried, I've written, I've been pulled together, I've been a mess. I've averted jury duty. I've become slightly more acclimated to Brooklyn- even ran over the Williamsburg bridge a few times. I've spent some awesome time with my family. I've given thanks- I've eaten like I was being paid by the chew. It's been good. I'm still trying to figure things out. Understand where I'm going and, to be honest, where I've been. But I'll get there. Until next time...

Monday, November 22, 2010

The Last of the Shit...and the Fan.

I had the foresight to schedule an audition the day after I got back from Nashville, so at least I wouldn't feel like a total loser upon my return. It was my first audition in over a month, and I was surprisingly nervous. Lucky for me, it was reading sides. I did a fine job. They asked me to do my velociraptor impression, which is always a bit awkward. But, I have to tell you no one can forget an auditionee who jumps off of a chair and runs around with her lips turned inside out, hissing like a maniac (Wouldn't you like video)... Anyhow, I felt okay about it. Mostly I was just glad that I was getting out there and moving on. And, even better... I was cast! So I will be playing a sassy and smart revolutionary, and a clumsy, repetitious waitress in an upcoming one act series in December. (info coming soon)

I had a little over a week before I was to move and I was stressing. My hair was falling out by the handful, I had a perpetual stomach ache. Yeah, not cute. I scheduled movers, packed, worked, rehearsed and reintroduced myself to my group of friends that hadn't seen me in ages. I had so much stupid bullshit to deal with regarding my soon-to-be old apartment. There's supposed to be a clean break when you move from somewhere, not this odd middle period I was living in where I got asked all the stupid questions that should be directed at the landlord. I think the girls that moved in weren't used to living in a NYC apartment, also: "The dryer takes a little too long to dry a small load of bed sheets." I swear this was one complaint I heard. Um...Hello?! YOU HAVE A F*CKING DRYER! It will, in fact, dry your freakin' sheets and you won't even have to walk four blocks to pick 'em up afterward! ...Sorry for the rant, but seriously - People are idiots.

I also had quite the experience dealing with what I like to call: Sarah vs. Giant Closet. Background - My ex/ex bf is from Texas. When boys from Texas build things, they are meant to last. Don't know if you knew this, but it is fact. He built a closet for my old roommate that the new girls decided they didn't want in the place...and I wasn't going to get my deposit back unless I got rid of it. And so, I found myself at the Home Depot. Asking Melvin for a reciprocating saw. For demolition. Melvin explained to me that saws are "serious business," (Thanks, Melvin. Had no idea...) and showed me the equipment I was to use for the job.

Wood chips everywhere. My hair was covered. My apartment was covered. A. Mess. I'm still not quite sure how it happened, but I had the pile of wood and the blisters to prove it. There was nothing safe about my technique (ha. I giggled just calling it that. I'm not sure that balancing wood between my coffee table and the couch and stabilizing it with my foot, praying that I could stop the saw before it hit the floor or my shin can be called technique) but whatevs, by the end I did have about ten garbage bags filled with closet parts. I cleaned up the mess, packed up my power saw and continued to shove my life into boxes.

I moved on Halloween. Two ill-tempered, but witty movers and a shit load of stairs later... I was a Brooklynite. Well, sort of. I was yet to have an actual room. The hooker that was moving out of my new apartment was taking her sweet time. So I stayed with some good friends until she vacated.

The night I settled into my new room I had a mini breakdown, not gonna lie. I sat down on the end of my bed, alone in my new Brooklyn bedroom and was finally able to think. About everything. I had been going going going since the shit hit the fan and never really took the time to sit back and let it affect me. My chest was tight and my stomach was turning, but I guess I had a major sense of accomplishment at the same time. I took care of my shit - mostly on my own. At the very least, it felt good to know that I was capable. And lets look on the bright side-my new apartment is across the street from a liquor store. So, I poured myself a drink and sat on my bed staring at some very naked walls, letting it all sink in, just waiting for whatever was coming next.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Shit/Fan, Part Two

I began packing for Nashville before I ever unpacked from Atlanta. Basically, I took out my bridesmaid's dress and put in my Frog Town uniform (this will make more sense in the coming months but, gist: it's my Big Country Blues wardrobe...). Peeled my eyelids open at 3:30am, anxious to get the hell out of the most depressing apartment on the planet. And hopped my happy/drowsy ass in a cab to make that 6am flight. Ugh!

I met up with my fellow actor at the airport and we were on our way. Napped a bit on the way, caught up with my favorite red headed cast member and basked in the glory of getting out of NYC...to run away from the shit...again... But, whatever, this time it was for work!

Nashville was an amazing time. Spent the days frolicking (sometimes literally) around town filming. Spent the nights listening to music and dancing our faces off. We worked all day and hung out into the night. Woke up and did it again the next day. Nashville's a funny town. I'd never been, even though I grew up three hours away. In the sense that everyone here in NY is an actor, everyone in Nashville is a singer...even if they're not. I heard two demos in one night from some drunk guys at a bar (I wonder how that would go over here if some guy whipped out a video of his monologue...). And, it turns out you can bedazzle anything. Especially if it's denim. Who knew?

Filming went well. On the day of my birthday (which was celebrated wonderfully later in the night by the cast and crew), my limits were tested with a FULL day of car shots.. Thank the Lord I drove some when I was in the ATL, because mounting a God-Only-Knows-How-Expensive camera on the car and having the DP (Director of Photography for the non-biz peeps) breathing down my neck was nerve wracking enough. Adding that I hadn't driven in over a year would have put me over the median and into oncoming traffic. I spent the day holding my breath and being re-assured by my oh-so-helpful cast mates that my life would be over if I effed up that camera. Thanks, friends. :) But in the end, I made it through without killing anyone or any expensive pieces of equipment. Thank you, Jesus.

(With Jeremy McComb and Shane Allen. The three of us trying to stay sane during 8 hours of filming in the car)

The work was great, and I'm super excited to see the end result. I'm currently still going through withdrawal. It's always hard when you become attached to your character and then have to say goodbye. Sounds weird, but it is kinda like losing a friend. You get to know her so well, and then she's gone so quickly. It's even harder when you miss the production just as much. The people and the energy. I loved every second of being a part of that project and am very grateful for the opportunity (Thank you Brian). I only hope that I added to the awesomeness of the whole thing. That my job was done well. I have such a place in my heart for all of those boys (although I have to tell you...hanging out with a bunch of boys is bizarre. Sometimes the jokes were so dirty, I didn't even understand them. And some of the behavior I'm still trying to figure out/recover from....Ass slapping contest, anyone??)

(Last shot of the series with my favorite red head and very talented actor Shane Allen)

I left Nashville feeling a whole mess of things. Fulfilled and yet empty. Excited and full of dread. Needless to say, I was a slight headcase. Back to NYC I went to pick up the pieces. Onward, but certainly not upward. At least not for a while...


Stay tuned. Third and final Part comin' soon...

Thursday, November 11, 2010

When The Shit Hits The Fan, Part One

Where do I even start? I guess I'll start on a high note with my Brother's wedding. For how much stress and hell went on before hand (remind me never to have a big wedding. Drunk in the backyard with some lanterns, food, family and friends. That's me...), it really was wonderful. In the end, everyone danced and had a blast. My speech went well, my dad's speech was amazing. The best man made my whole family smile. It was great. One of those times where you look around at the people in your life and realize what matters. As cheesy as it is and how ever much it makes me wanna gag to write that, that's how it was. Everyone looked amazing, everyone was happy (once all the shit was taken care of, getting to that point took a whole lot of self-medication...). We had a fabulous time. And then...

...I came back to NY.

The shit show that was my apartment took me by utter surprise. On some level I knew it was coming. But, really, no amount of preparation could have eased me into four strangers living in my place and a room that never actually belonged to me packed with my stuff like I should be on that show Hoarders: Buried Alive. My life resembled that of a TLC freak-show. F*cking Swell.

I suddenly had no boyfriend, I hadn't seen my friends in so long I forgot what they looked like, I had a stranger's room shoved full of everything I own, and nowhere to live after Oct 31...FML. So, I did what any normal girl would do in this situation... I sat on my living room floor and cried. I was what one might call "a hot mess." And to make a ridiculously shitty situation even more ridiculous AND shitty - I had no idea that one of the strangers inhabiting my apartment was home at the time. ...Awkward! Way to introduce yourself, Sarah.

I had just spent a month ignoring real life. I was basically drunk the whole time (Not because I needed to check into Betty Ford, all you people that just jumped to conclusions. But, because three weddings in a row simply don't leave you enough time in between to fully detox before you have another delicious drink in your hand. Not my fault! I was just celebrating the joining of two people...over and over and over again), I was making bad and sometimes hilarious decisions. Hell, I was having a great time. And then New York sucked me violently right back down to Earth. This city's helpful like that....

I had three days before I left again for Nashville. And I WAS really looking forward to that trip. Another welcome escape from reality. (details from this coming in Part Two)

I spent the three days moving/packing boxes, just trying to make some sort of order out of chaos. Not to mention, uncover my bed so I could effing sleep in the process. I had a couple leads on apartments through friends of friends. And after losing one apartment share with two guys because I'm a chick, I found two girls in Brooklyn who needed someone to move in.
Enter. Me.

I met one of the girls. She seemed normal. Space was good. A little rough around the edges, but who can be picky when they're moments away from cuddling up with the crazy on the corner, peeing in a subway grate, and wiping with an amNY. I'll take it!

And so, I was to be a Brooklynite. Williamsburg-er to be exact. Mixed feelings here. I'll have to dodge super snobby hipsters on my way to the sometimes unreliable L train. I'll probably have to buy an unlimited metrocard and I bet the trendy little organic groceries are too expensive to support my fruit addiction...But I could work with that. I hoped.

I had a long way to go until I was actually settled in my new place. I had a lot coming at me. But first... I was going to do what I loved, in Nashville, with amazing people. My life may have been a mess and I was overwhelmed, to say the least, but I was blessed. I just had to keep reminding myself that....

Part Two of "When the Shit Hits the Fan" coming shortly. I swear it won't take a month. Hiatus officially over. :)