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!

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Finding Peace This Season.

Every time I have a hard time formulating a post, I realize it all harkens back to my lack of honesty. To myself and to you. It’s hard to remain transparent on the interwebs. And I talk about it a lot, but as I’m constantly putting myself out there in my regular life, on here sometimes I get a bit self-conscious. So here it is. My return to brutal honesty and sickening transparency. Nothing like ending the year with a little self-exposure. …the legal kind.
Truth be told, I’ve been overwhelmed as all hell recently. It’s a common misconception that I constantly skip around town with a smile (though, slightly sassy disposition) and a fervent zest for all things organic. Real talk: Yes, occasionally I too, want nothing more than a plate of gooey chocolate and fried things. And I, too, must occasionally fight against the urge to cut a bitch. Recently …let’s just thank goodness chocolate onion rings aren’t a common menu platter and I don’t keep straight razors lying around.

My lack of rainbows and sunshine all came to a head a couple weeks ago after I was cornered by a close talker with the social skills of a feral cat. Locked in by two walls with flecks of spit from his quickly moving mouth flying in my face. We were chatting about my career path. He was curt. Accusatory. “So, you couldn’t make it as an Actress, that’s why you went into nutrition.” He kept saying it. Over and over. Just changing the order of the words.

I heartily resisted the urge to feel defeated. My eyes narrowed. Daggers. “Sooo, I’m going to take a stab in the dim light, here, Bob. Tact isn’t your forte?

Afternoon hustle. Boots on the ground.
In attempt to get TWP out on the town, it was my third business meetup in a week. Spliced into the usual madness of my motley life, I was in a constant state of go, attempting to stay charming as I was face to face with person after person after person. The conversation with Close Talker was the straw that beat the shit out of the camel. I couldn’t. I was done.

“Ok...Looks like I’m done.” I said with a smile. I gathered my things, slung my tote bag over my shoulder with firm bitchiness. “Have a good one.” I managed as I headed for the door. Too many people have been forcing their opinions on me. From boys demanding that I just don’t know what’s good for me, to near strangers telling me “what I should do” with my business (that they know nothing about), to finally the Close Talker, I couldn’t handle anymore outside commentary. The noise was maddening.

Two trains later, I trudged up the stairs of the Bedford station in Brooklyn. Upon exiting the tunnel, my phone dinged multiple times with the sound of incoming text messages. Brring! Brring! Brring! My knees buckled. Without looking I pressed the power button on instinct, and plopped down on the stoop of a conveniently located apartment building. My hands gripped the cold cement stair. I focused on the hard chill that worked its way through my jeans. Breathed to get all of my body’s mechanisms measured.

It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a proper anxiety attack. A common occurrence in my youth, I’ve learned techniques to find my Zen and keep a pretty steady state of calm. But that day on the cold stoop of a random building, I was as close as I’ve been in a long time to numb extremities and severe hyperventilation.

TWP is out in the world and people are interacting with us. We get emails on the daily about new opportunities and clients and buzz. It’s truly amazing. Honestly, every now and again, Rachel and I get overwhelmed with the awesome possibilities of what started out as an idea over coffee on a busy, Brooklyn street.

Coffee Shop Office.
I’m insanely proud of what Rachel and I are creating and accomplishing, and I am having a blast. But, as much as I hate to admit it, the Close Talker got me thinking. Recently, people constantly ask me what takes up most of my time, and I don’t even know how to respond. On any given day I go from audition, to meetings with Pilates instructors and health coaches and business mentors, to meetups, to talkbacks. There’s no single focus. Recently, it’s true (if I’m going to be honest with myself) I haven’t been as dedicated to Acting as I used to be. I mean, for obvious reasons, but still. I know I haven’t abandoned it, but on some level, what if that terrible guy was right? Am I letting go of my dream by shifting focus? Have I failed?

I know many people that hold on so tightly to the idea of being an artist that blinders shield them from seeing that in the grand scheme, their life simply isn’t working. I’d like to think that I’m setting myself up for success (even in my acting career) by hopefully finding stability elsewhere. I got to the point with Acting where I’m sick of waiting. No matter how good I am or how hard I try, it just may not happen. I hate that my success hinges on the fact that someone else gives me a chance.

As Actors, we’re constantly told to “never give up,” and to “keep going,” which I agree with, to a certain extent. But, for goodness sakes, I gotta make a life that works. Even if it means adjusting what’s been my identity for as long as I can remember. So, after some thought, no it’s not failure. It’s smart.

But I do strive for balance, and I’m having a hard time finding the perfect combo of my creative life and my professional life. While TWP certainly does take creativity, I can’t help but feel the burning need in my chest to create in the Actory sense. To slip into a role and connect with other actors and an audience. It starts as an itch and grows to a burning sensation akin to a condition worthy of an antibiotic.

So, I keep turning all my pokers in the fire. Because without them, the fire just dies. And that is the worst feeling in the world. I’ve done a few acting gigs, and go on auditions here and there (a few pretty awesome ones coming in the near future). And, I write - sent my short film to some people and am working on a few other projects.

All the while, winter has officially blown in to town. Fingers are stiff from the cold and the smell of hot dogs and chestnuts seems to cut through the air. The train is, once again packed with oversized coats and the sound of boots on the pavement has taken over the city’s soundtrack.

My favorite word is cozy. I’ve started bundling up with scarves and hats - a walking swaddle. Warm drinks are my lifeline. It’s right about now, in the bud of the season, with the first taste of bitter cold that the pang of claustrophobia from a NY winter makes its way into my bones. Time to cuddle up and wait out the storm.

Thanksgiving came and went. I had a great time with my silly family. I ate way too much, laughed a ton, and had mini dance parties with a semi-sick and fussy Nug.

Life is going by in a hurried Holiday frenzy. The season shortened with a late Thanksgiving. My earbuds pump constant Christmas music and I walk about warmed by the season. I’m going home this weekend and can’t wait to party plan with my Mom, wander the Costco with my Dad, and snuggle the shit out of the Nugget. His first Christmas. So exciting.

Until then, I’ll be the go-to date for my manfriends’ holiday parties and I’ll run from business thing to acting thing trying to stay warm. So if you need me, I’ll be in sparkles somewhere, sipping wine or bundled like a refugee tucked away on a crowded train going over sides for an audition, or giving a tour trying to make money to buy Christmas gifts, or sitting Indian style on a bench in a cold cafĂ© researching web designers (ps if ya know one, I know a start-up that’s in the market) or writing about my nutzo life. Sometimes all in one day. And I’ll be pouring over my creative outlets, trying to scratch the inevitable itch. Accepting that I can be both a business badass and an artistic actress. And I’ll be resisting the Close Talker’s boring square box, and creating a life that’s some odd shape all my own.
Happy, Healthy Holiday Season, my friends. I wish you all good things.

Saturday, October 26, 2013

This Getting Old is New

Hey Everybody!

Quit pooping on my 30 year old parade.

I’ve been saying I’m “almost 30” for the past few months and people keep responding to my age with apologies and sympathetic, furrowed brows. “Oh! I’m so sorry.” “Oh, no. You’ll be okay.” And my personal favorite, “Oh, I’m not worried about you…”


Everybody seems to want me to freak out about this particular milestone. But, Everybody, respectfully and I mean this in the nicest way possible… I must tell you to shut it. :)

I just might love 30. This age suits me, I think. Lord knows I don’t want to relive my 20’s. A time spent in a constant state of Middle Ground. My footing always uneven. Feeling like I was constantly waiting for my life to start. And I’m not saying I have it all figured out now (that’s for damn sure), but I am much more aware of the power that I possess. And maybe, more than anything, I’ve accepted this whole life-situation as a moving, changing entity. One without right or wrong. Time, a flow that brings you to the next step. Never able to get there without being here.

Sure, when I was young I thought that by 30 I would have an Oscar and a husband (oy). A house. High thread count sheets. My closet wouldn’t be full of polyester blends, and I would be the most conventionally successful person the world has ever seen! …Reality is, I live in a “charming” prewar apartment, I’m more singular than I’ve ever been, and not only is the majority of my wardrobe from the Super Target, my sheets are from aisle 5. Clearly, Nostradamus was a bit better at the whole “predicting with accuracy” thing.

BUT, In the grand scheme of my younger days, I also had aspirations to be happy and to fill my life with things that I love. And I can tell you, unequivocally, I can check those two doozies off of my list.

Getting older is amazing …and incredibly weird. My body is a mystery sometimes, sleep is a hard and fast necessity. My friends are pairing off, moving to (ugh) Jersey. And my brother has spawned another human….I mean, shit is weird! But 30 years of collecting knowledge is pretty cool, too. Tucking lessons away like lint collected in a back pocket. Saved tid-bits from parents, friends, and strangers. Things I’ve learned from wild successes and blunt failures. From building relationships and watching some crumble to jagged pieces on the floor of a midtown living room. From sharing quiet, dark parts of myself with people I’ve trusted (and some that I didn’t).

After 30 years maneuvering through the world, I now know that attitude is everything. Connection is critical and words are powerful (Though, so are glances. Ask anyone that’s been on a crowded train). I know never to underestimate the value of a good, solid nervous breakdown. That outfits should go, not match. That the thread between people is thin, and a smile at a stranger can change the course of the world, especially if it’s before 8am.

I know that the days you really don’t feel like it are probably the days you need it most. That many people value money over basic human interests- and that many people have fucked up priorities. I know that falling in love is insanely fun. It’s also insanely annoying. Nothing can interrupt your day quite like a barrage of hormones. I know that almond butter may have more nutrients, but peanut butter absolutely annihilates in a side by side taste comparison.

I’ve come to realize that no matter how hard you try, you can’t make people do things. Or feel things. The same is true in the opposite direction, no matter how much you wish it weren’t so. I know the universe talks. Listen. That people can surprise you. But you shouldn’t count on it. I see that loyalty is an incredible trait. But sometimes nothing will do like a firm, incontrovertible goodbye. I’ve confirmed PMS is real. And that baggage is inevitable. But that you should be wary of people that keep having to buy new suitcases. And I’ve found that honesty and authenticity are drama's worst nightmares.

As it turns out some of the age-old (pun intended) stereotypical things are true, too. I’ve grown to appreciate quiet Friday nights in. Flats. Black coffee. Productive days. I’m most confident in yoga pants on a lazy Sunday morning. And I'm aware that nothing good happens after 2am. I love a good Farmer’s Market. …Hell, I love a bad Farmer’s market. A gross bar bathroom is enough to make me call it a night. And if you see me doing shots of anything other than wheatgrass, aliens have taken over my body. I love conversation as opposed to chit chat. And over the years, my parents have become close friends.

I still struggle sometimes with the passing of time, with everyone around me getting older. And, to a certain extent, with the idea that success doesn’t look quite like what I thought it would. But it looks like time is pretty damn inevitable. And all the things that I’ve done and all the people I’ve known have brought me here. Fingers typing this 30 year old story to you.

Recent commercial shoot. The Hubby buys me a car.
And, I mean, I’ve got a lot to show for these 30 years. I’ve been through a lot and remained (relatively) sane. I’m pursuing things I’m passionate about, and putting (sometimes hurling) myself out into the world. And I’m capable. I can move through this life with dexterity. (Some days are more graceful than others, but still.) I have to remember that changing course is not defeat. And (while I know that I’d blow Anne Hathaway’s every performance out of the water :) ) I’ve accepted that someone else’s accomplishments don’t mean my failure.

Between getting my own Start-up off the ground, auditioning and working as an Actor, being Fun Aunt to a super cute nugget, and writing (including attempting to write a screenplay- a creative project I’m finally okay sharing with the world) I have so much going on that I’m excited about! Every day is a new adventure.

And I get excited thinking about the next 30 years. About how much I can get done. I mean in the past 30 I had to learn to walk, and talk, and make it through high school without getting arrested or pregnant. I don’t have to do any of that! So much opportunity…

So, Everyone, yes, I will be okay. And, no, don’t “worry about me.” Because I am doing fine. I just try to keep widening my eyes. Keep seeing 30 year old things as if they’re new. And I try to meet each day as if life is saying, “Oh hey, You. You’re right on time.”

Monday, September 23, 2013

I Can't Belize My Ears

Anxiety hit me suddenly. There was eerie stillness over the water that I didn't trust. An easy quiet that, ironically, made me incredibly uneasy. My eyes scanned the area. I was looking for something mythical- sea monsters or unicorns. I would have sworn the only movement in the world was the slight breeze through my hair. I had the terrifying and irrational feeling that time stopped. I looked out over the ocean. The sun making a path to the edge of the Earth.

I hadn't traveled in years. Not really traveled. The kind where you plan, and you locate your passport, alert the bank, call the phone company. The kind where you anticipate it for months and then feel the palpitations of excitement in the days leading up to departure. The sort of trip where you leave your comfort zone and learn to adapt to foreign ways. It had been 8 years, to be exact. 8 years since my last real vacation. Travel? Sounds lovely, but that was something other people did. But, there I stood. Finally. On vacation in Belize. Skeptical of the ambient Island noise. My ears buzzed - a condition that persisted for the first few days I was away as my senses adjusted to the new serenity.

If you would have asked me a few weeks ago, I would've said that I go to great lengths not to stress in life. I work out, I take walks... But real escape, surrounding myself with all things unfamiliar, completely losing sense of time, and just generally not giving a shit was such a gift. Accepting the “whatever happens, happens” attitude and throwing efficiency out to sea was a stress relief I didn't even know I needed. Time became elastic. The sun melted urgency away.

My body fell into agreement with the light, crashing at sunset and waking with the dawn. I had no distractions, so I could focus on the fine points- The smell of salty water, a hint of ripe fruit and boat exhaust. The feeling of the sun warming my bathing-suited body and, later, the inevitable chills that followed when I unfortunately burned my backside. The acceptance of being perpetually mussed with gritty hair and bug sprayed, sticky skin.

Over the course of the trip, we met a full on cast of characters. Travelers that looked for obscure, loose commonalities - “oh, I've been to Canada once!...” A language, a place, a profession. Some random link to bond two different people in a very different place. Expat locals, a growing group of settlers. Each person a little sad in their own way, having run from some previous, mainland life. And native locals with quick tongues and sharp senses of humor. All with a detailed story to tell or a friend in town we should meet.

Rian (my good friend and travel partner) and I had a balanced, lazy itinerary of exploring and straight up lying on our asses. I carried over my commitment to bravery and tried new things. Cave tubing, zip lining. I even pep-talked my way out of an anxiety attack and successfully snorkeled. I held a shark with my own two shaking, probably-sweaty-but-who-knows-cuz-I-was-under-water hands. (FYI this situation is not to be taken lightly. I jumped IN the ocean. Snorkel on my bug-eyed face. Into waters teeming with sharks. ...Oceans are not my strong suit, People! This was huge.)

Anyhow. I digress. Point being, Newsflash! Turns out- Vacations are necessary! I've always thought I just needed to leave the city, that simply removing myself from my everyday was enough. But it turns out that complete escape is imperative. When I took away the cacophony of my usual, I was able to hear what was coming from the inside. Subtle clues and whispers from a body gradually worn down by the unassuming trauma of everyday life.

Upon landing in Miami on the first leg of our trip back to reality, I cautiously held down the button on my iphone. I was unprepared for the onslaught. Auditions, meetings, jobs, boys... Deep. Breaths...

In order to make it back home, it took 16 plus hours of travel and a few delirious laugh attacks. It seems I ran out of clean clothes so I had to make the trip in a haphazard ensemble that appeared as if Rainbow Bright had regurgitated. It made for some “off color” comments, so to speak. This pic was in the aftermath of Rian proclaiming indignantly that he did not sign on to travel with a girl "dressed like a Skittle":

Rainbow clad and mid Laugh Attack.

I stepped off the plane at Newark with a sunburned tush and a serious promise. I will not let another 8 years go by without a true vacation. Also, I'll try to add moments to my daily life where I don't feel the compulsion to DO. With “busy” being so en vogue in this town, it's hard to allow yourself unadulterated down time. Guilt inevitably follows a “day off”. Sure, I do things for me, but often my brain is on my business or my audition or my grocery list. Before Belize, I couldn't remember the last time I allowed myself to just plain and simply, be.

Early Birthday mess with friends
Back to my usual, I had some pretty cool stuff lined up. Some awesome auditions, which led to a few killer call-backs (after I bathed in Aloe and Vitamin E oil. Ain't nobody gonna cast a peeling, red, “young mom on a cruise”). I wrapped on an episode of "A Perfect Murder," for Discovery ID. And, Rachel and I have been hustling like whoa meeting with potential clients and partners for The Wellness Project. ...Big news! I think we may have just secured our first real client. (Ahh!)

I've tour guided and Promotional Modeled for some paychecks. I've celebrated an early 30th birthday in tandem with my best friend. I've been on my last of the lingering first dates from a now officially sworn off ...I'm back to the grind. In a big way.

Since coming home, I find myself drifting into the mindset of a traveler in my own town. It seems trips like this infiltrate your life in ways that surprise. Sort of like how you find sand in odd places for weeks. I see a crowded subway as an adventure. Allow rush hour to seem novel and exciting. I find myself smiling at even more strangers and chatting at the farmer's market (a deep conversation with a gaggle of women about Peach Pie). And I sit at the water's edge in BK taking in the skyline like I've never seen it before, watching the sun disappear behind the biggest pop-up book that ever was. It's nice to pretend that I'm a visitor here. that can't overstay her welcome.

We all deserve a break every now and again to even out, and let the ringing in our ears subside. We deserve to relax. And it's necessary to sit in ourselves and just be, hearing the sound of bare quiet.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Back in the Swing of Things

In my obnoxious dedication to honesty, I come at you with humbling news. Friends, In part because of some conclusions I've drawn in the past months and in part because of my living in Bravery in 2013 ...I have...well...joined

*Insert gasp here

People keep saying that I shouldn't be so forthcoming with this info, but hell, my damn picture is on the site alongside a million other single New Yorkers. It is what it is.

So needless to say, I've been dating. Sort of a lot. And all I can say is - I'm winded. Beaten down by the barrage of douchbaggery and nuttiness. I dodge men old enough to be my Father, e. e. Cummings poems, sugar daddy offers, and inappropriate suggestions. I've sat across from the awesomely awkward to the annoyingly confident. I've met finance fools and film making fellows. I've had more muddled cucumber cocktails than I care to admit. And I've found myself in way too many life-assessing conversations than can possibly be good for the soul. ...Y'all. I'm effing tired.

BUT, not for nuthin', I have learned some things in this month of hard core online operating.
  1. People are nuts. Just off the charts bananas.
  2. Everyone Likes Traveling. And laughing. And working hard. And playing harder. And eating out. And eating in. And drinking with friends... Duh. Seriously. Duh. Originality is not something to be taken lightly, as it clearly doesn't come easily to most.
  3. People are judgmental. Quick to project their shortcomings onto others.
  4. People are scared. Most actions are dictated by fear. Things as simple as a text become complex, fear driven psychological studies.
  5. People show you what they mean. Actions matter. Not words. Words are too specific. Too honest. And people are (again with the fear) afraid of honesty.
  6. It is very easy to tell why some people are still single. Just glaringly obvious.
  7. Going on a dating rampage is not conducive to staying sane. Not even a little.
  8. People are incredibly breakable. And once you hit a certain age, everyone has been broken.
These are truths. Some are self-truths. And some are shards of personalities I've collected during conversations in dimly lit bars that leave bits and pieces of myself with near strangers. Experiences I've amassed while catching darting eyes staring at my chest.

Because of the nature of online dating, I've found the conversation topics delve deep rather quickly. And the truth is, I'd much rather talk about the good stuff than the humdrum and banal silence fillers that are within the usual rules of first date topics. I love finding myself in some winding, late night conversation that takes odd overgrown paths. It's fun.

(Disclaimer! Prepare for an ActingLikeSarah rant. It's been a while...) However, what's not fun is when I find myself in some conversation side-stepping asshole, condescending comments and defending myself against attacks of haughty know-it-allness. When asking questions and saying "I don't know" are treated like an admission of idiocy. God forbid we should actually learn from each other! It's a problem I know all too well. And it's usually done under the all too popular guise of the word, “banter.” Newsflash my oh so Manly Men of Little Mystery: That's. Not. Banter! Nope! Banter is teamwork. Banter is inclusive, not exclusive. It doesn't pit one person's intellect against another with the goal of annihilation. It doesn't test or poke. It accepts. Like improv, it says “yes, and...”

Ugh. Now that I've got that off my chest, you all can stop staring at it...

Men love to speak to me like a first grader with a learning disability (hope you weren't reading this for political correctness). It's a fact of life that I've come to occasionally use to my advantage (amazing how many people respond to feeling smart, forget about actually being smart). But, for God's sake, it wears on me! And right now, my usual snappy, confident self is feeling a bit beaten down. I've been surrounded by a little too much negative energy. I've been a little lost. Metaphorically.

Snapped from my usual route. ...but I went left instead of right.
And so in an attempt to find my way back to me, on a morning run after a particularly rough night last week, I allowed myself to get straight stolen by my runaway legs. I abandoned my usual route for an impromptu mini urban adventure. And I allowed myself to get lost, literally. Physically.

Somewhere in South Brooklyn I found my hips firmly planted in between the chains of a swing. (I swing fairly often these days at a playground by my apartment. It's where I get in my zen-zone. Some chicks do yoga, but I never could find my third eye.)

A girl, probably 8 years old, plopped down on the swing next to mine. Her Medusa braids going in every direction. She smiled at me as I moved back and forth past her- a bit of a pity smile. I'm old, and on a swing set. ...Thanks, Kid.

She started to move. Slowly gaining momentum, pumping until her swing matched my swing. We pushed our legs harder and stayed in perfect matching velocity. Peaking and sinking at the same time. She laughed loudly, I could hear her through the music in my earbud. We continued for longer than it should have been fun. Finally, we slowed to a stop. I de-earbudded.
She was dressed in a unitard. The kind with the shorts.
“Are you a gymnast?” I asked her.
“Oh,” I was surprised.
“I just like this outfit.” She looked down at her ensemble and proudly, yet clumsily pulled the legs of her shorts down to smooth out the patterned fabric. “This thing is the coolest,” she said smiling without looking up.
I couldn't argue with her there. The swirling red, white and blue motif conjured up images of a determined Shannon Miller circa '96. The little girl looked damn good. She jumped off the swing and stuck the landing. Skipped off to meet her Dad and little brother on the other side of the playground. A shining beacon of bravado somewhere in South Brooklyn...

On my run back, it started to rain. Fat drops. Cumbersome. Summer thunder rumbled in the distance. I guessed directions, weaved my way through the streets, the confident little non-gymnast on the forefront of my mind. She reminded me of the usual me. The me that's under the belief that being flawed and human is simply, “the coolest.”

Eventually, I found my way home. After a solid hour of running through the rain I entered the door to my busted Brooklyn apartment, my head cleared with the passing clouds. It turns out you have to lose yourself every now and again to appreciate the comfort of finding yourself at home in your own skin.

I've cancelled my Match membership. I have one month left, and that's fine. I'm back to “I'mma do Me” mode. I like it best. And I'm going to try to remember that it's kind of amazing to sit opposite a stranger, aware of all that you offer and all that you are, and to accept it - shortcomings and faults, quirks and crazy. And I'll ask more questions. I'll not be afraid of the sound of the words “I don't know”. I'll play in “not knowing” like a pig in shit. Throw around “I don't knows” like Weiner does sexts. Just willy-nilly like, without regard for consequence. Eff it. After all, I've found that the most interesting people are, in fact, the most inquisitive ones.

Floating amid the chaos of this city, with people in perpetual protect-mode is taxing. Not to mention auditioning day after day, being dismissed for things as trivial as hair color, nail shape, or which word I happen to inflect adds to the madness. Being a single NY girl, walking with palms open is to leave yourself susceptible. So I guess it's okay to get lost, because I do always find my way back. Adjust, and match that little girl's swagger. Sync with her swing.

As I sat down to work on this post, I made myself some potent lemon detox tea (health freak alert). I tore open the packets, and was faced with this:
...subtle. :)

Ok world.
I hear you.

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Life: Sewn from Snippets

So here's the thing: in crafting this post, I had millions of details to share. Daily tidbits that form paragraphs in my head, that evoke words and descriptions and flow from my fingers like smooth water. But, I couldn't piece it all together with life. Real life. My life. All the things that happen, that I do...How do I get it to fit into a neat little expository post.

So I come to you with bits and pieces. Maybe not the best story, maybe not the most fluid. It's sewn together from thoughts and snippets I've scribbled over the past few weeks on my notes app - typed while tucked away between commuters on the train, while standing at the market waiting to buy some silly mix of groceries: pickles and summer squash, and from the seat of a cafe swatting flies and sipping green juice between life's things. I wasn't able to get it together until now because, well, I've been too busy living. And, I guess, that's not such a bad thing.

Right now, we're smack dab in the sluggish days of summer. More than that, we're holed up in the middle of a heat wave that would catch Dante off guard. Where everyone is in a perpetual state of drip-dry. Dewy bodies are perched atop brightly colored toes. Damp skin. Hair piled high. Hands blotting brows. Thick air. Country music in my ears - the only sound that seems to fit the long, meandering days. And the night hours are a welcome break where the heat is more like a cozy blanket than a smothering pillow.

Of course, though energy is low, life doesn't slow for this onslaught of stifling heat. I feel like you can tell how bananas a person's life is by the number of tabs open on her desktop. Right now...I have 22. 22 TABS!
Hands down. That sh*t is bananas.

Sometimes I wonder what life is like with a real job. A less random existence. An office. Spreadsheets. Structure. Clock in. clock out. It's usually at times like these when I spend my days hopping from one mindset to the next, living in a constant state of forced ADD. But let's be honest, that's just not “me.”
...So, my bestie's wedding came and went. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. While I did, of course, get my sweat on twirling under the arms of handsome boys like a good Maid of Honor should (gotta give the distant cousins something to talk about), I think the best part of a wedding isn't when you're in the middle of the madness fist pumping or chicken dancing. The best part is when you get to steal away and stand in a forgotten corner of the room and just take it all in. Stand back and wonder how it's possible that so much love fits in such a small space. The weekend was spent hanging out with my long-time friend, drinking too much, eating too much and celebrating two amazing people. I honestly don't know that I've ever been so happy for another person in my entire life.

After four days away, I was happy to get back to the grind upon arrival in BK. But something was weird. I had that feeling like just before a storm when everything is a bit off. When the air is eerie and smells funny. There's a salty bite in the wind. Like at any moment the storm will arrive and Toto will go flying past the bedroom window... Something was brewing...

I was booked on a commercial for a flea and tick medication the day after I came back. I have to say, I've had better co-stars than those three dogs and that cat (I mean, I have had worse too... :-/ ). By the end of the day, I was thoroughly covered in slobber and pet hair, and properly tick protected for the foreseeable future.

It wasn't long after the shoot that that immanent, brewing storm I had felt in my bones arrived. Toto appeared in the form of a phone call from my Father. I got word that my Grandmother had taken a fall and was in the ER. Within the hour, my cousin and I were on our way in a borrowed car to venture to the depths of a land time forgot. A place known to the world as: New Jersey. Following an elaborate string of family group texts discussing my Oma's condition, my dad decided to fly up for the week.

I shuttled back and forth, New Jersey Transit style, between states. My main job was to keep everyone light, and find the funny in all of the mess. Like, when my Dad had endured a 12+ hour travel marathon from Atlanta, spent the day at the hospital and after a long, thorough search we sat down at a little Italian spot. My Dad was pretty wound up and had just been telling me in the car how he wanted a Godforsaken glass of wine when the server slowly dropped the bomb that they were BYOB. I honestly thought my Dad may cry. He looked like someone had just bare-hand-murdered his new puppy. I, on the other hand... instantly started laughing. Just uncontrollable belly laughter. People were staring... It was just too perfect. Life just has a funny way of fucking you. Somehow, a simple glass of red turns into a statement.
In other happier news, Rachel and I had a pretty major week in TWP land. We officially released our efforts into the world!! (and you can see our company here: Ah!) We've had some important meetings and signed on some partners. And, we're currently looking for our first two companies to implement our pilot program. Things are moving! For the time being, I keep tour guiding, too. On one last week, I spent the hours biting my tongue and swallowing my pride as I accepted pretentious jabs from an older, very well off woman. I tried to kill her with kindness as she spoke to me like a wayward orphan, and tried not to vomit as she droned on about whisking away to Nantucket and Paris and London, where they would “inevitably buy out Harrods.” She lived in a complete bubble of the Upper East, totally unaware of the other half (or really 9/10ths). It always amazes me the vast sample of the world I'm exposed to. I am really lucky to encounter so many varied characters in my motley life, even the terrible ones.

I think that's all for now. Piecemeal? Maybe. Honest? Yup. Now to get back to living...and sweating.

I wish you dreams of frozen kale smoothies and cucumber water. ...or ice cream and cold as shit diet coke. Whatever. Just stay cool, my friends. It's an obstacle course in a convection oven of big city proportions out there.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Past Perfect. No Longer Tense.

I felt a hand cup my right tush cheek. One eyebrow cocked, I turned my head slowly in the direction of the rogue extremity. A boy in a t-shirt with spray painted words on it smiled creepily and grabbed my hand. He lifted my arm as if it was part of some mechanism that precipitated dance moves from the rest of my body. I shook my head (not gonna happen, dude). The music was too loud for him to hear the slicing words that I wanted to say. Through the laser lights, I saw he made a face. A stupid expression. As if to say, “Awwww, come on...”

I stared, one eyebrow probably still at attention. He didn't leave. I waved him closer so I could yell in his ear. “Strict rule.” I pushed the words from my diaphragm. “Oh yeah? What's that?” He said all drunk, sexy like. “I don't dance with guys in t-shirts with words. And I don't dance with ass holes. ...You're two for two, My Friend. Back the f*ck up.” I turned to my girlfriend. “I am too old for this shit!” I screamed in her direction. Drunk boys slammed into me. Girls in half tops giggled. Bud light was sloshed across my dress. I was the 29 year old sore thumb in the middle of the bumpin' club.

My Best Becca and Me. Friends since 6th grade.

“I can't hang like I used to” became the quote of the Bachelorette weekend. It was painfully evident that we aren't in our early 20's anymore. We cut our limo time short by 2 hours, I snacked on baby carrots and freeze dried peas, the bride was borderline narcoleptic passing out any time she was seated, and at one point my other friend was fighting back tears while skyping with her 6 month old son... Folks. Times have changed.

So after coming to terms with our age and inability to “hang,” the last night of the trip we fucked our dinner plans and stayed on the beach well past sunset. We toasted to my amazing best friend and told stories. We danced and jumped around like idiots. It was pretty perfect. Just what us old ladies needed.

Who needs a club?

All the girls out to celebrate the Bride.

It was an interesting weekend for me. I was the only single girl on the Bachelorette trip, then add the Yankee factor and the health freak tendencies and it was a perfect storm of ridiculous. I felt a little like a leper in a beauty contest. And all the wedding hoopla and couple talk kind of got to me. It sparked a whole slew of emotions and trains of thought that left the station for far off places. But not in the way one would think.

I mean, I always assumed that I would get married. Never really gave it much thought, it just was what I expected. But, anyone that's dated me in the past couple years can tell you that at the mention of the word “commitment,” I break into a cold sweat like George Bush in a spelling bee. Recently someone asked me in regard to my aversion, “what are you so afraid of?” I couldn't articulate it exactly at the time, but this past weekend opened my eyes to the intricacies of my fears. Bear with me -

Seeing the lives girls my age back home are starting all sorts of freaked me out. They have the houses and the yards and the paid vacation days. And I mean, it seems to work really well for them. ...but...For some reason, it simply doesn't appeal to me. I have no interest in talking about registries, and china, and houses, and babies, and school systems, and breast pumps. Holy. Anxiety attack.

Secondly, there's my independence. I have been through some shit in the past years, y'all (just go back in blog-time and do some reading). And bravery's been building within me. The older I get, and the more I deal with, the less reliant I am on others. I get through the messes, generally coming out of them with a smile (after I wipe the tears and subsequent badassery off my face). I've done a ton of inward work recently and I don't want to lose the independence that I've tried so hard to cultivate.

And I'm afraid of becoming content. I've never been in a relationship that propelled me forward to do all of the things that I want to do. They've always been about settling in.

BUT here's the kicker: This trip I realized that I think I can make my own version. As my Mom reminded me in the car when she picked me up after I got back to Atlanta and told her how I was feeling, “You've always felt that way,” she said. “So, you make the life you want. Just like you always have.” And she's right. Hell, it's why I moved to NY in the first place. I've applied this sentiment in my professional life with Acting and The Wellness Project, why not apply it to my personal life? I can have whatever the hell I wanna have. I can get married (EVENTUALLY, let's not get crazy) and I don't have to talk about registries, and china, and houses, and babies, and school systems, and breast pumps.

Whew! What a relief. This has been a major cause of anxiety within me recently. From my Brother pretty much telling me that he thought I was never going to get married, to my other single friend's mother asking her to freeze her eggs (oy vey), the concern has been growing, People. Not that I won't get married, but that I don't WANT to get married. But I think it's up to me to set my own terms. Write my own story. ...or blog. That's assuming that I ever meet anyone on the same page and can pull my hot messy dating life together. But, Lord knows, that's a story for another day...

My assistant, Kid Mogul.

After the Bach Party weekend I was back in ATL for some quality Fun Aunt Sarah time and to hang with the Fam.

I also went to the 20th anniversary of my old Dance Studio, Rhythm Dance Center.The alums came back to dance one more time on the stage together as a group. It was totally weird and nothing like it used to be. Once again, I was reminded of the passing of time. We used to walk on stage with insane confidence, ready to work. This time? ...we just didn't want to break a hip.

With my Dance Teachers and fellow RDC Alumni
But it was awesome to celebrate the empire that my role models growing up created. They built this incredible home for so many kids, where we were allowed to be creative and expressive. Where we developed life long friendships and learned invaluable lessons. As I begin to release my own business, TWP, into the world, they are once again my role models. Dedicated, passionate, smart women that built something of their own. I can only hope to experience some of the same successes they have.

I came back to NY excited as all hell to get to work on The Wellness Project. I met with Rachel my first morning back and had a killer work session. We talked future plans and possibilities. Goodness gracious, I am so freakin' excited for what's coming. I think we may be onto something truly amazing.

So while in my last post I was looking high and low for inspiration, at this moment in time I have found tons. From a Bachelorette weekend that opened my eyes to my own wishes for the future within my personal life, to a celebration of a business that changed my life so many years ago and opened my eyes to my hopes and wishes for the future of my professional life.

I've always said that I hate going backwards. But it turns out that maybe sometimes it's good to revisit the past. It's a great reminder of how I got this amazing gift of a present. And also to determine what it is, exactly, that I really want for my future.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Itching for Inspiration

The antsy, can't sit still, burning need to do good acting work has slowly been building to bonfire proportions. A Director of a Music Video asking me (from a reclined position on a couch) if I'm “cool with shoving cake in my mouth and pouring beer all over my body” while I “chill for the day in a bikini” didn't help the situation. After being the only girl over the age of 22 in the holding room, I was in no mood to play along. “Umm..I think I can do the cake/beer thing. But, ah, I think I'm more of a tank top/short shorts kinda girl...”

...Needless to say, I didn't get the part.

Seriously, I am fiending for a challenging role. No one has asked me to puke into a toilet, get raped in a stairwell, or sleep with my boyfriend's bestie recently and, by God, it is starting to get to me. Color me disillusioned. ...whatever the hell color that is. I've been losing the love.

BUT all it takes is one. One performance to suck you back into some kind of sick actor-love. Last week, I had an audition for a feature that re-sparked my fire. It was of the emotionally intense variety. My brain's been all over the place and I worried I wouldn't be able to stay in the moment. But, after my usual preparation (which includes a specially picked song playing on a loop) in the audition room I was able to find the sweet spot. The place where connection to the script allows for truth and you don't have to push. It just comes at will. I left totally spent with my makeup hooker-smeared across my face, but fully reminded of why I keep at it. Some weird love reinstated for the cathartic work.

I needed that reminder. I've been so focused on my life as Nutritional Nancy that I feel like I've neglected my creative spirit a bit. I've been feeling less than inspired. I need to find some new music, read a good book, fall in love with a stranger, dance it out.

Timing is a funny thing, as I was just contacted by a girl on the other side of the world about contributing to a book about living a creative life. I was asked to explain my process and talk about what it means to live creatively. After writing my contribution, I realized how important that part of me really is. …It's totally weird how life feeds you people and things you're hungry for right at the perfect moment.

My friends being silly and awesome.
Anyhow, speaking of feeding, back to Nutritional Nancy – That bitch is in full effect! Not only have I taken on a couple personal Health Coaching clients, The Wellness Project is gettin' real, y'all. After stock photography proved sterile and expensive, Rachel and I put our heads together and devised a plan. We rounded up a group of people for a symbiotic photographic experience of awesome. I pulled from my actory base, Rach's brother-in-law happens to be a kick ass photographer, and we rented a cooperative work space in Greenpoint to stage our own photo shoot and populate a library of pics for us to draw from. I was in awe of the incredible people that came out to participate. It was one of those fulfilling, great days. ...exhausting beyond holy belief, but great.

We've had a few set backs, but we keep plugging away. Piecing things together little by little. I feel like we're right on the brink of things getting a little bananas (in the best way).
Rach and Me day of the shoot. A happy tired.
But first, it's back to ATL then onto Florida to celebrate my best friend's last days of Singledom. I'm prepared to have some crazy fun hanging with the girls, drinking a bit too much, and making bad decisions. It's been way too long...

So, barring any appearances on the next installment of Girls Gone Wild and ensuing law suits, I should have a blast! My friend deserves a killer party, so we're hoping to throw her just that.

I can't wait to get my head out of the game. Rest the brain a bit and recalibrate. I think my creative energy just needs a quick break reminiscent of my early 20's. Just to, you know, dance on bars and down Vodka Sodas.

Yeah, that'll totally help. Nothing says "Inspiration" like a limo full of drunk, married girls in penis tiaras.
Betcha can't wait for those pics...

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Seeing Eye Sarah

“So, we have one blind woman.”
The group leader said this to me like it was a normal thing to come across on a shopping tour.
“I'm sorry... Did you say there's a blind woman on this shopping tour?”
“It's ...challenging...but, it should be okay? No?” It was a question.
“Ok. Yeah. Uhh, sure.”
...well, this was a first.

I scanned the store and looked over the large crowd of middle aged women from Winnipeg. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out which one she was...

I introduced myself and quickly realized that I was in for quite a day, in the most interesting and unexpected way. “I'm blind.” she said to me matter of factly. “Can't see a darn thing.”

I spent the day with the 68 year old woman glued to my arm, guiding her through the busy streets of Soho on a Friday afternoon. Talking through every curb, every cobble stone, every hurried New Yorker breezing past on a mission. Evelyn* lost her sight at the age of 40, so she remembered colors. Orange is her favorite (though she did meet a man in GA once whose eyes almost made her change it to Blue).

New York, a city very much for the sighted, became a tactile experience. For both of us. We discussed the change in energy from Broadway to Mulberry, the softness of the silk blouses and the oddness of faux leather skirts. I described in detail all of the jewelry as I guided the pads of her fingers over the stones and metal - a very important job because she needed to pick a “special piece” to wear to her Belly Dancing classes (that she teaches!). We painted pictures with words and I tried to explain the minutiae of the city scenes to put finishing touches on her imagination.

Evelyn couldn't experience NY like a sighted person, she knew that. But, as she explained to me when I asked her about her condition, it's not changing. She didn't want to sit at home and feel sorry, because “that's no fun.”

It got me thinking. When Evelyn was my age, she had no idea that she had 10 years left to see everything she wanted to see. That, soon, color and shape would be an association made by memory.

Meeting Evelyn came to me at a good time: While I've adopted the mantra “Brave in 2013” - a task I started January 1st. Call it a freak-out about turning Dirty-Thirty. Whatever. I've decided to do the things that I always assumed I'd do, just...Later.

But, the truth is, who's to know what gifts are present today that won't be tomorrow - like sight. So, why wait?? (And, don't worry, Mom. No sky diving. The mantra is “Brave In 2013,” not “Effing Stupid in 2013.”)

One experience on my list of awesomeness was to run a race. And folks... I've done it! I have successfully run a 15K (FYI that's 9.3 miles. Why they go by Ks I'll never understand. Aren't we in America?). Not only did I run the whole thing (which was really my only goal), but with a time that I can be nothing but super proud of.

This accomplishment was a special one for me for a number of reasons. I've always been self conscious about my efforts as a runner. I mean, dancers don't run. This is common knowledge. But also, those close to me know that the past year hasn't been the easiest. I've had a few health scares that shook the shit out of my usually active life. Some auto-immune issues left me unable to walk up stairs without my legs giving out, with bald patches popping up on my head, and my brain in a perpetual fog. It was terrifying. My stomach was so tied in knots that even leaving the house was a feat. Whole new meaning was given to my “Hot-Messiness”. Honestly, I kept it very quiet, but I was kind of a wreck.

I know. I know. This is news! ...Surprise! But for as public as I am about a lot of things, I can be a pretty private person. I just like dealing with things on my own. And when the shit hit the fan, I wanted to get myself healthy before I opened this one up to the outside. (And healthy without prescription bullshit, might I add. Just eating and lifestyle changes!)

And so, here I am. A year later. I just ran 9.3 miles at a 8:21 per mile pace.

Mission. Accomplished. :)

(Picture taken by Sophie Watson, a great friend and runner, herself. Up very early to cheer my little legs on. She even made a sign :) ...what would we do without good friends??)

Next on the horizon is to launch The Wellness Project. We are so freakin' close we can taste it in all it's organic, all natural glory. We have a video in production for the website, our LLC is in formation, the newsletter design is in phase 2, and we have a photo shoot this weekend to populate our library with brand aligned pics. HOLY. SHIZBALLS. My heart hurts I'm so excited.

Also in the past few days, Fun Aunt Sarah made another appearance! This time in NYC! Nugget takes NY was a success and I got to spend some quality fam time with the whole crew.

As for actory news: Auditions popping up all over the place (and Callbacks, too). I also rocked a 3 week On-Camera class (a great connection made with a well-respected and awesome Casting Director). She was so kind as to speak with me afterward about a targeted approach to gain solid representation and book bigger roles. Word for word: “You have huge chops. You're really good." I can't tell you how amazing it felt to get that kind of validation from someone who auditions hundreds of actors all the time. It was a necessary boost to my confidence. Over time, this biz starts to f*ck with your head. Confidence wanes and you need a good reminder.

Also on the near horizon, I will be performing again soon! I just signed on to do a short play festival mid-May after being contacted by the writer. I'm excited to work with her and the other actor involved. It's a short commitment, but should be an insane amount of fun. Can't wait for our first rehearsal to get in and play! My body's itching to get back into performance mode.

So bravery is the business these days. I'm bolder in my exchanges and putting myself out into the world as much as possible. It's always been a little hard for me to own my accomplishments and sell myself, but the older I get, the more I realize: Ain't nobody gonna do it for me. (...and coffee helps.)

It didn't take Evelyn to open my eyes to the importance of staying brave, but it was a nice reminder that life is here for us to experience. Now. As we are. However we can.

So I plan on doing just that.

I mean, let's be honest, no one ever got any cool shit done by being a wiener.

I'll leave you with that bit of brilliance.
...You're welcome.

(*her name is not Evelyn. It's pretty close though...)

Monday, April 15, 2013

Small but Scrappy.

Let's do some word association, shall we? -

Feet. ...Hurt.
Back. ...Ache.
Hand. ...Punch
Patience. ...What the fuck is that.


...ohhhh, you see a theme...

Y'all, there's a lot going on right now! I've been running my midget legs all over this town, and it is taking its toll on my vertically challenged, little body. There is not a pair of shoes in my closet that can rise to the challenge of providing my throbbing arches with comfort. Not to mention who knows what's going on with the freakin' weather?! Is it cold? Is it hot? Is it raining? Is lightning striking my fire escape? (this did actually happen. My roommate screeched like that mouse I trapped in a box a while back) But seriously. Holy hell, you guys. I'm cooked.

The everyday pull of my limbs in different directions is starting to get to me. Sleeping is troublesome. Palpitations are normal. Fists are instinctual.

Something's gotta give.

And yes, even I occasionally, with my rogue smiles at strangers and overly chatty tendencies want to slam my elbow into the grill of some too-cool-for-school-silly-hat-clad-Ayn-Rand-reading-Hipster on the God forsaken, crowded Soho street. It happens. ...And its happening this week. ...You've been warned.

...Sooo, I'm in a mood. Looks like I need to seriously chill out. For the sake of my sanity and for the sake of that smelly hipster's teeth.

My anxiety from the acting front stems from the fact that I don't have any solid acting gigs lined up in the near future. Which is unusual for me. I have a number of 'potential' projects that may or may not happen. Things people want me to be a part of, but need funding or finishing. And in the meantime, I just go to a lot of auditions that I'm not really invested in. I'm fiending for a character that I'm excited about. But I'm sure something will spark my energy soon. Something always does.

Also adding to my fighting spirit, I've had some ridiculous encounters with the opposite sex recently. It seems I've been a magnet for the absurd when it comes to Men. Example: I was stopped on the street and chatted up by a seemingly normal, well intentioned guy. After a couple minutes of chatter he comes out with this statement - “You're smart. But you should really tone down the wit. It's an unattractive trait in a woman.” umm...WHAT?!?!  I stared at him. Head cocked to the side. Eyes narrowed. “Well. Hmm. Interesting...” I said, even tempered and analytical. “...And it turns out that being a fucking idiot is an unattractive trait in a male. WHO KNEW?!” I heard his voice fade into the distance attempting to back-pedal as I walked away laughing in complete astonishment. Un-freakin-believable.

And aside from these fiery feelings, there's also this weird nostalgia I'm contending with. I usually get it around this time of year - right when I feel the beginnings of summer imminent. I get the first hint of schvitze on my forehead and feel the first breeze on my bared legs and I get transported back in time to lazy, summer days when the air smelled perpetually of strawberries and hot dogs. In stark contrast to the now, life was devoid of responsibility except for the nagging issue of getting back home in time for dinner. Where the biggest problems were what boy was snapping my bathing suit strap and how much longer until adult swim time was over. Goodness, I miss those days. Every now and again I get irrational feelings about times long ago. Immense sadness that I've lost something and can't get it back. Like when you leave your cell phone in a cab. I realize it's just the nature of how time works, but it doesn't change the struggle with accepting it.

Anyhow, as far as The Wellness Project- with serious changes looming on the horizon I'm getting a bit overwhelmed. Not only am I contending with this incredibly erratic schedule and last minute things popping up like whoa, but TWP is coming to fruition, getting more and more real. It's actually creating a buzz and people are starting to contact us about what we have in the works. It's a little scary to think about the end result. ...Holy hell, can we really do this?

I mean, yes.
Of course we can. 
And it's going to be some kind of amazing. :)

So, in the middle of dealing with life's ridiculous, Lord knows, I am workin'! Money jobs by day (LOTS of tours going down this time of year), The Wellness Project by night, writing/auditioning/connecting in the middle. Attempting to stay at least a little charming so my tips don't suck and my dates aren't terrified.

I think I will take a little me time this week, though. Go for some walks. Maybe even hang by the river and (gasp) finally finish reading the book I started weeks ago (granted it's about the proliferation of processed foods, but still...). I could even take a dance class. Go back to my roots and try to work it out from the outside, inward.

Some major Spring Cleaning needs to go down, too. So, it's a week of new beginnings! Tidying up my hot mess of an apartment and my brass knuckled attitude.

It's a big job, but I got this gig.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Flounder in Southern Waters

So...I cried. Upon walking up the stairs of my brother's house, I saw my Mom appear from around the corner. In her arms, all squirming and alive, a little nugget of a human. ...and I effin cried.

Not face contorted, weird breathing ugly cried. More like my eyes were leaking unexpected emotion. It was stupid. I then proceeded to exclaim genius statements- “Oh my gosh! It moves!”  And come to alarming revelations- “he's so small!” And ask brilliant questions- “how does this thing work?” 

Intellectually the miniature model stumped me. Though, instinctively I scooped him up and seemed to know just how to hold him all snuggled into the crook of my elbow. I touched his little face and held his (actually freakishly big in comparison to his body) little hand. Stared into his deep blue eyes that look like he knows answers to questions we don't even know to ask. They are surprisingly wise. ...well, at least until his muscles relax and he goes all cross eyed. You guys. He is seriously freakin' adorable.

very intense conversation.

So, clearly, I went home to ATL. I got in a healthy dose of Fun Aunt Sarah time, which goes hand in hand with a healthy dose of experiential birth control. Yup, don't worry, friends! My own uterus felt nothing but relief upon handing the little peanut back to his parents. Nothing. But. Relief. 

Ain't nobody got time for that.

As usual I spent my time at home maximizing every valued second. The quality of my activity was quantitative because the time was ticking - Meet the new nugget and spend time with the Bro/Sis-in Law combo pack, shop with Mom, run errands with Dad, hang with Grandma, catch up with an old friend over Thai dinner, help throw a Wedding Shower for my bestie... go. go. go...

Wedding Mania.
So, as the Maid of Honor to my long time best friend, Becca (simply one of the most amazing people on the planet), I was one of a few hosts for her wedding shower. Thank God for the Matron of Honor, our other awesome childhood friend, Kate. Because, talk about out of my element! All the chatter about invitations and dish patterns and matching serving platters.... Wow. I was a NY single fish thrown into suburban wedding waters. I overheard more than a few comments that went something like, “...she's Becca's old friend. She's an actress from...New York.” said as if that somehow explained, well, me.

 It came time for gifts and I had to laugh. Wild guess which one is mine??

My hot mess of color in the sea of black and white.

It is so interesting going back home. Seeing the life that I could easily have ended up living. And, honestly, realizing just how unfitting it would have been. I mean, my nail polish is always chipped, my dishes will probably never match, I seriously suck at tennis, and I fucking love the eff word. According to Southern convention, I'm kind of a big 'ole disaster. I do love to go back to GA. I love my southern roots. But...I really don't think I make a damn bit of sense there any more. I'm a NY city girl. Done deal. ...y'all. ;)

After the trip, needless to say, I'm tired. But I got what I needed. Family time. City escape. And everyday a good power-ballad, warm-GA-sun-kinda-run. And now, after I slept in today until an unheard of 10:30am, I am ready to get back to business and focus my crazy, lab-puppy energy into my city life again.

Before I get to updates, permit me to go back in time a moment to a week ago, as I was sitting in an audience watching my own words be played out on a stage. Remember that Short Play of mine that was being produced? Well, it happened! While I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, I realized something about myself: turns out I might be a little bit of a control freak. I mean, don't get me wrong, the actors were great! It was great! I so appreciated the preservation of honesty and connection to character, as the interpretation of the script could easily have gone straight to the absurd. But, I just really wanted one rehearsal with the actors! I just wanted to work the scene with them, tweak moments and get to play! It was such a weird experience for me. Being on the complete other side of the process. I'm super grateful for the opportunity and I actually want to fine tune the script. Maybe I'll try my hand at writing some more pieces of that nature. Who knows?

Anyhow, back to the present. I'm back in city and I've slipped seamlessly into my NY groove. (Seriously, I walked in the door from the airport, dropped my bags and turned right around to meet my friends for our annual Easter brunch. It felt great to be back with my peeps.)

5 Easters together and going strong!

So, now I'm back at the NY Muffins Cafe, Green Juice in hand, one ear listening to the singer-songwriter station earbud style, the other eavesdropping on a couple of hipsters contemplating painting a living room mural of an octopus and a rainbow. You know, to signify new beginnings ( think I'm kidding...).

I'm home. :)

Now, onward! I'm getting my eating back to normal after an Easter pig out (you should, too! Check out Smart-Mouthed for steps to an easy spring cleaning of your bod). We're prepping for The Wellness Project photoshoot coming up at the end of the month. I'm setting up auditions and getting back to the hustle. I have energy like whoa and the sun poking out here and there is fueling my fire.

I've got Spring in my step, friends. Time to make shit happen.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Ugh. Silence The Sniveling. Back to Business!

Alright, alright. Enough with the sappy stuff. Enough with the girly tears and the ridiculous baby exaltation and the mushy insides. Back to work, Sarah. Pull your shit together.

I mean, hell. I wouldn't even know what to do with a baby, for cryin' out loud (pun intended). I'm guessing innate instinct would take over if one were in front of me, but from here - no baby in sight...I got nothin'.

So enough already with that adorable, sweet little nugget of a Jacobs back in GA. Enough!

Wait, one more pic.
Like a person... only smaller!
Ok. Now! Enough!

Back to business:

So, here's the jam: I've been auditioning my face off. I did a round at One on One (a studio where you do audition sessions for various industry peeps) and focused on Casting Directors and a couple of Agents.

I did really well! I usually do pretty well. And I don't think I see my auditions through unself-aware beer goggles. I mean, I got great feedback. I would even go so far as to say that I got awesome feedback...well...except for that one...

...there's that occasional rough one where it goes right to crap in a handbasket (or something like that). It's an unfortunate thing. Mid monologue you feel the air in the room thicken. The moments of silence between lines defy the rules of space and time and turn to eons. You keep the words coming, stay focused, connected. Afraid of losing the honesty, but mentally you acknowledge the fateful fact: You are straight sucking.

It's a truth we all must come to terms with: Sometimes, you suck. That's just the way it goes. I'm lucky that I have confidence and seem to have procured the skill of shaking off the “shitty” fairly quickly. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm my own worst critic- judgmental and impatient and hard on myself. But there comes a point where, after all is said and done, if you sucked, you gotta get over it. Or, much like trucking, you'll just keep on sucking...

Initially, I try and go into auditions with the mentality that I'm gonna have a blast, entertain some folks, and act the crap out of whatever I'm performing. And, even when I accidentally suck, turns out that keeping this mentality tends to reward me redeeming qualities in the eyes of my auditioner. I usually throw some jokes out there, lighten the mood. And, generally it works in my favor.

So, yes, I had one fairly unfortunate audition, BUT I had plenty of others in the past days that I feel pretty damn amazeballs about ('s an industry unit of measure...). I received lots of incredible feedback that, luckily, far outweighs the suck. I was in the final running for parts in a commercial and a film, but eventually lost out in the final round. Grr. But, such is life.

On top of auditioning for all sorts of things, I've spent recent days running from the gym to working and then to meetings...

A short while back, I was working an event as a brand rep for a very technologically advanced phone. (You can imagine my surprise when I realized the job I was booked for...Me. The Tech-Tard.) I quickly fell into my own lingo as I rattled on to savvy entrepreneurs about the “Super fancy phone” with an “awesome camera”. And the “durable glass screen that could protect the Pope”... not quite what was in the script, but I think I made it work... :-/ Essentially, I spent the week of “work” hanging with co-worker friends, chatting with super interesting people and networking. AWESOME! I was even offered a full-time job at a toy company on the spot. ...It was oddly tempting! But, I didn't take it.

Commencing. With Emily Tuckman.
In addition, the show I was working on, “Commencing”, has opened, closed, and incidentally, re-opened and re-closed. We were awarded the opportunity to have an encore performance based on positive audience reaction. A nice achievement for the production. All in all, it went well!

I've also started an On-Camera class with a Casting Director I've been eying. She does a lot in the Indie Film world. Our first class focused on cold reads (get a script, look over it for 5 minutes and then perform it). Now, in this scenario, I'm lucky that my reading skills are good and I'm an intuitive actor. The class went really well: feedback like this: “Wow. You fucking nailed it.” is pretty much exactly what you want to hear. She even called me in to an audition this week! Mission: 'get on her radar' accomplished. :)

And, as usual, the anxiety of ending a show has settled in, so I'm getting to work setting up even more auditions with the hopes of lining up my next projects. I'm also printing new headshots, designing new business cards and postcards, and staying on everyone's radar with updates...whew!!

...coming soon.
Then there's The Wellness Project. I am beyond excited. Thanks to my amazing partner pretty much learning to write web-code as we go, our website is coming together! (though not quite ready for release into the wild) We have tons of potential partners lined up and a photoshoot in the works to procure pics that accurately represent our brand. Bahhhh! It's all happening. And I am so. pumped.

Goodness. Life is cray.

Oh, and I'm “training” for my first running event! I was challenged ...and we all know I don't like that. I signed up for a 15K in April. This weather is keeping me glued to a treadmill and I am slightly losing my mind. ...if one can lose their mind only slightly...

Anyhow, I'm now SUPER over the Winter. All this bullshit snow is getting to me. The sight of coats makes me cringe. My feet ache from being imprisoned in boots. My skin is a shade of pale yellow that I am not even a little okay with. Ugh. So... in a moment of bravery and pure winter exhaustion, I did the unthinkable! …I told my friend I would go on vacation with him! My first since college! Ah! Watch me as I get over my anxiety and fear of commitment and book a ticket to...Belize!!!

Aaaaah! Not until Labor Day. But still!

In the mean time, you can catch me running around this town clinging to my sanity or on the treadmill like whoa. ...I'm just thanking baby Jesus for the 90's hip hop Pandora station. It's the only thing getting me through.

No diggity, no doubt, y'all.
...pure Pandora poetry...