I came into the world an actor, who got funny enough to turn into a comedian, who got physical enough to become a burlesquer, until burlesque discovered I could talk and turned me into an emcee.

I gave up the cruel world of stand-up for the bedazzles and $50/number of burlesque, until one fateful night and a "win one for the gipper" speech that turned my tides and let me to take a vow to do 365 stand up sets in 365 days.

Will I be lured back into the world of fans and feathers, or will I stay with drink minimums and Comedy Central Specials? Only time will tell.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Here's What You Missed

Dear Diary,

It's been a while since my last entry. I missed you. Did you miss me? I totes went MIA for a sec b/c some totally stupid casting directors stood me the f up at the altar. For two months, they strung me along, telling me how awesome I was, how much they loved my confidence, that all I had to do was just be myself, and then, at the last minute, they left me for another woman. I don't even know who she is or what she looks like, and I don't care. I don't care if she's prettier than me or can sing better or whatever. I hope they enjoy their off-Broadway run together and those casting directors can just think about what could have been.

So, there was a hiatus before the big let down when I slept, focused on my voice, and did a lot of positiv visualization. There were the two days after the audition when I went away to the country to cry on the beach, which, if you are going to cry, is a fantastic place to do it. Then came The Big News that I didn't get the part, followed by an immediate realization tht my life has gotten completely out of control and I am in desperate need of a new game plan, which pretty much brings us up to date.

A year ago I came fantastically close to an entirely different role, hosting a soft cable news show --think Lindsay Lohan jokes et al. Though I had no previous hosting expense, it made total sense that I would be perfect for this. And I was! All the way through contract negotiations, months and months of callbacks, until it went down to the final four, and I didn't book it. Bam. All kinds of gering up for ready for my life to go topsy turvey, upside-down, and in the anti-climax to end all anti-climaxes, everything stayed the same. Except that now, I was suddenly on a hosting track. I went up for all kinds of shows, worked on a hosting reel, did all kinds of mental and physical prep for this entirely new direction in which my career appeared to be heading.

And now that I came so very close to a life in musical theatre, I'm getting notes about the creative team's concern with the level of my dance training. For the record, I have no dance training. My level would be none. It all feels very "United States of Tara."

Which leads me to my next point, I've been a little off the ball these days for two reasons: one, I have no idea what the ball is anymore. And because of a skin cancer scare on the part of my manager, (she's fine) I haven't had a chance to meet with anyone to give me any inkling of clarity until tomorrow. Two, I'm depressed. Not spend all day crying in bed, crossing the street recklessly, fingers crossed that a taxi will smash into me and end it all depressed. More like the bartenders at my regular shows are worried about me because I haven't been drinking lately depressed. More like my girlfriend texts me, "I love you," and I text her back "xo" depressed.

The world keeps turning, and I am still on board for the ride. I just feel like sleeping a lot and watching "Dead Like Me" and "Pirates of the Caribbean" as opposed to whittling away hours at open mics.

Someday, my prince will come.

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