Cleveland Richfield Rocks!

No, not the one in MN. (listening to: my head pounding)

Ok, so.. I spent last weekend in Ohio with Natalie. Meeting her family. They're wonderful, amazing people, and I'm totally serious when I say there isn't ONE of them I didn't like. Which is interesting, because I met them all. Literally. Every. Last. One. It was like a family reunion, and I was invited. The odds were high for embarrassment, and embarrassment there was. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's give you the play-by-play, shall we? I'll post one day at a time, so you can get the dramatic feel for the trip.

*NOTICE* I have pictures that help me tell this story, but at the moment, I can't get them onto my computer. I will post them as they become available, filling in the holes.

--DAY 1--
Our flight leaves Minneapolis at 7pm local time, so we had to be at the airport at 6. The idea is that I'll pick up Natalie at her house, and then we'll park at the Mall of America (specifically, one of the hotels next door) and then take the light rail to the airport. What I didn't count on was the fact that this is a REALLY good idea, so it's already been thought of. You can't park at the hotels next to the mall. They do nightly sweeps. Damn. So, we drive to the airport to park there. For $16 a day. For three days. Awesome.

When we finally get to the airport, We go through security, and because I didn't bag my liquids, my bag has to be opened and inspected. Apparently, the rule is that any container larger than 3.4oz cannot be carried on. Listen carefully to that... Any CONTAINER. It could be empty, but you still can't carry it on. Madjai loses his hair product, shaving cream and toothpaste. This is an awesome trip, and we're still in Minneapolis.

Now, sans-gels, we're hungry. So, we stop for a burrito at the airport common area. (By the way- two burritos and a coke at the airport common area is $18. Keep that in mind when traveling, folks.) This is Natalie really excited about leaving:

[[Picture of Natalie at Airport]]

And this is her burrito, which is decidedly less exciting:

[[Picture of Natalie flipping off her busted burrito]]

Skipping ahead a few hours, we land in Cleveland, and Natalie's Mom and Dad are there. This is a moment I have much apprehension about. Her Mom is a lovely woman, who reminds me instantly of my theatre professor in college. Uncannily so. Her Dad is a tall and affable fellow, who shakes my hand and welcomes me to Cleveland. (Side note: He calls me by my name as he's loading up our luggage. The first and last time he will get my name right all weekend.)

It's a 35 minute drive to Natalie's sister's house, where we are staying (let's call her Francesca). Francesca, I'm told, lives with a man (who we will call Brain, for two reasons) who is me in 12 years. I'm excited to meet him. Mom is very nice and is pointing out landmarks to me, and asks me questions about my life and my work. Dad is very silent as he drives, talking only twice to Natalie, and answering only direct questions with direct answers. I'm pretty sure I catch him staring at me in the rearview mirror at least twice with eyes of nearly infinite suspicion.

We pull into Francesca and Brain's driveway, and Brain meets us at the door. This guy is my style. He gives us a brief tour of his rambling suburban mansion, complete with a room that could quite easily control either several nuclear missile silos or rogue black ops agents in the remote corners of the world. Two computers, each with dual monitors (one of which is a 30" LCD), and every piece of equipment in this room glows either red or blue or green. I'm in heaven.

Francesca is a taller version of Natalie, with longer, straighter hair. She's lovely, and her and Brain make a cute couple. They have two children, "Harris" and "Jackie," who I will find out very soon are two of the CUTEST kids ever created. They are sleeping at the moment, however, so I won't meet them until Day 2.

We chat for a bit with Brain and Fran, and they make us feel instantly at home. I like these people, they're easy to talk to, and they are very down-to-earth. Also, as a bonus, they don't seem to be interested in quizzing me about my life. Which is nice, because it's late, and I'm very tired. As Brain shows us our guest room, replete with TV and DVD player, I realize that it's only 10pm my time. I'm still Exhausted from our trip though, so we watch 7 minutes of Adventures in Babysitting before passing out. This is the most sleep I'll get all weekend, and so far... I have no idea just how much is about to happen.

Aw, Nuts

I'm so bloody clever. (listening to: "Untitled I" by Keane)

So, last week I sent out three packets consisting of two headshots, a resume and a cover letter to three of the local talent agencies. Monday, I got a call from Nuts asking if I would come in for an audition. For representation. Today.

This is a stressful enough weekend as it is, and to have this looming over my head today is both wonderful and terrible. There was a story "they" made us read in primary school about this knight who wanted to marry the princess. The king was an evil king, and made all suitors pass a test. He would place the knight in an arena with two doors. Behind one of the doors was the princess. Behind the other, a dragon. If the knight opened the door to the princess, he would be able to marry her. If he opened the door to the dragon... well...

I kinda feel like that. I feel like I've got my hand on the door, and I'm about to open it, knowing that I could just as easily find the dragon behind it. Or, if you prefer a somewhat less medieval analogy: Remember those movies where the bomb is about to go off, and the guy has the pair of scissors, and he's got one of the wires and is about to cut it... yeah. It's like that.

I guess I'm not really sure what I'm nervous about. I mean, I've been acting somewhat successfully in this town for about three years now, and I never had an agent. Now that one is in the possible future, if I falter and don't get an offer, does that really harm me in any way? Specifically, I suppose my thinking is that if an agency sees nothing special in me, my chances of actually making a living doing this in the future are greatly diminished. And that's what I want. I want to be able to just do what I'm good at for the rest of my life. I don't think that's too much to ask.

========UPDATE==========
A summary of my audition.

Went in there with two women, Cindy* and Ruth* (All names have been changed). Talked a bit about whatever, then we went in to the office. It's Myself, two girls, and two other guys, none of whom I know. We chat for a bit about what an agent is, what they do, what to expect and what not. Then, it's time for the on-camera audition. So, there's a stack of copy on the desk, and we're told to pick a commercial and an industrial (usually a training video of some time, but not always). I choose the industrial with some guy talking about how a store displays merchandise, and a commercial about buying auto parts. One of the women goes in ahead of me, and I run over the scripts as I wait my turn.
At the last minute, I change my mind about the commercial choice, and choose a Timber Lodge Steakhouse commercial. I walk into the "studio," and one of the other agents is filming with Cindy there as well. He's watching the Twins game on gamecast. :^)
I stand in front of the camera, we chat a bit about my experience on camera (almost nothing) say my name, and do my first read. The steak commercial. Let's see what I can remember:

We here at Timber Lodge Steakhouse know that some of you out there really love our steaks. So much so that you're giving them away as holiday gifts. You come in, order a steak and shrimp platter to go, as if we have gift wrap, and then return home and place it under the tree. We cannot stress enough that this is not a good idea. First of all, the wrapping paper smashes down the sour cream on the baked potato, and the traditional shaking of the package before opening really ruins the artful presentation. Not to mention the problems this might cause in houses with dogs. Might we suggest a simpler solution? Gift cards.

Then it wraps up with more name dropping.
Now, as I said, I'm not the first person to go. The girl before me was in there for like 10 minutes, and I could hear her read, and then re-read, and on and on. I finish my read, and the guy says, "Ok. What's your other one."
...I'm not sure how to take this. I do my other one, and it's short. So, when I finish, the guy isn't looking at me. He's reading my resume. He realizes I'm done, and he looks up, stops the camera and says,

Him:"Madjai. You NEED to get into ear prompting."
Me: "I took a class on it in college."
Him: "You got the equipment?"
Me: "No."
Him: "Buy it. Today. You've got the right look and presence for it, and you'll get a ton of work. Give [prominent twin cities actor] a run for his money."
Me: [ silent, big shit-eating grin ]
Him: "Yeah. You're done. We'll see yo-- you'll get a letter from us."

Explanation: Ear prompting is big in industrials. There's so much script, and no time to memorize, so you record your lines on a tape, and then you wear an earwig which plays it back. You talk along with your recording.
It's... fucking hard.

So, yeah.. I think that went well.

END TRANSMISSION...

What I Do At Work

Seriously, someone please find me a better job. (listening to: someone hammering... like, 100 feet away)

While I don't have this exact conversation every day, here's a good example of what I do in between actual calls.

XXXX: bored
me: cracks knuckles
XXXX: your blog is un-updated
-- 14 minutes go by --
me: True business.
me: What should I blog about?
XXXX: i got nothing
me: Give me a topic
XXXX: hmm
XXXX: blackberry
me: Like, the phone?
-- 3 minutes go by --
XXXX: do your student loans make you ill?
XXXX: how can I make them go away...
XXXX: think I can just ignore them?
XXXX: how can I get a new social security numbeR?
me: I saw it in Coneheads... you just need to go find Adam Sandler. He'll hook you up.
XXXX: done and done
me: You know where to find him?
XXXX: he hangs out at the skylark
XXXX: i will see him tonight
XXXX is busy. You may be interrupting.

-- My Phone rings --

Me: "Thank you for calling xxxxxx Support, This is , How can I help you?"
Caller: "Hi... I have a problem."
Me: "Alright, Can I have your site ID?" (A 5-digit code that each company gets to identify themselves to us.)
Caller: "XXXXX"
Me: "Ok. Who am I speaking with?"
Caller: "Mike."
-- Pause, as I wait for him to say his last name, as I'm sure he's not the only person named "Mike" in the company. Finally... --
Me: "What's your last name, Mike?"
Mike: ""
Me: "Great. How can I help."
Mike: "My order entry program doesn't work."
-- At this point, I can tell this call is either going to be very long, or very short. And it will most definitely be painful. When a caller says something "doesn't work" and then doesn't say anything else, we can usually tell they have no idea what they're doing --
Me: "Alright. Can you clarify what you mean by 'doesn't work'?"
Mike: "I'm getting an error message."
Me: Thinking:"Well, Hallelujah."
-- At this point, there's another pause. You'd think that our friend Mikey would catch on that maybe I need to know what the error message says. Nope. --
Me: "What does the error message say, Mike?"
Mike: "Oh. You need that. Uhhh... It says 'customer is required.'"
-- I know the answer before I ask... --
Me: "Did you enter a customer into the order, Mike?"
Mike: "Oh. I have to do that?"
Me: "Yeah. The error message is telling you that the order needs a customer."
Mike: "Oh. OK."
*click*

Mike has hung up on me. Apparently, he's gotten what he needs from me. I feel so used. I write up the call-

PROBLEM DESCRIPTION:
User called in with an error message: "Customer is required" when entering a new order in order entry.

PROBLEM RESOLUTION:
Let user know that customer was a mandatory field. Customer hung up before solution could be verified.

-- Back to chat --
me: Some customers are idiots.
XXXX: no
me: Seriously. I have a college degree, and my grasp of basic logic is far beyond some of these mouth-breathers. These are IT professionals and System managers at these companies, and they can't decipher a simple error message.
XXXX: haha. I FOUGHT OFF THE CHINESE THIS MORNING. FLEX
XXXX is busy. You may be interrupting.

And so it goes.

END TRANSMISSION...

Tonight...

I am sad. (listening to: Ender softly purring on my lap)

It is a hopeful sadness, one that knows it is supposed to be melancholy and yet knows that it will end, giving way to a smile, a laugh, a clearing sigh.

Tonight's sadness is brought on my memory. But not mine. I get like this when I read a well-written book. I strive to make my own thoughts more articulate. More prosaic, more... meaningful. Speaker for the Dead does this to me every time, and I've read that damn thing dozens of times. Tonight, though.. it's a new book- one recommended to me by Natalie. It's her favorite, and whenever someone goes out of their way to tell me what their FAVORITE book is, I make it a point to read it. You can tell a lot about a person by their favorite book.

This one is called The Time Traveler's Wife, and I've had all 540 pages of it for just over a week. I couldn't put it down. It was incredible. I loved it. I just finished it, and it put me into this mood.

I wish I could describe this mood with a better voice than my own. Like Byron or Shelley. I want to describe it using words that make the reader feel it as though they were me. What I really wish is that I could bottle it, and savor it like a dry wine at some point many years from now. I love the way it feels in my head. Like a pretentious poet or philosopher. It makes me feel egotistical and florid, the way a robe and a leather-bound book instantly speaks with a british accent "This guy takes himself way too seriously." This feeling is done away instantly by anyone not completely in tune with it speaking to me, so I am somewhat glad that tonight, I am alone, with only my son on my lap, happily dozing.

I'm not actually even here right now. The open deck door I sit next to shouts at me every time a car drives by with the loud, incessant noise of rubber on asphalt; but that's not the noise I hear. It's a crackling fire, the sound of pine logs popping fast and loud, the sap melting and exploding in little puffs of white smoke. The ticking of my keys as I punch each one in turn is the long slow clucking of a grandfather clock, steadily meteing out each second of the time I have in this place. It's a room I know well, and I love the delicious bullshit that comes out of it. I do my best thinking here, my best self-reflection, and it always, ALWAYS manifests itself in things that would normally make my eyes roll, itself heavy with its own ego.

But to me, it's delicious. A savory fruit or a warm blanket, I can feel it permeate me in heady intellectualism. And what comes of this foray into mental masturbation? Usually, a piece of writing that is itself significant to only me. My favorite result of this place is an old story I wrote about a man and a woman seperated by a river. It never holds the same beauty and elegance to someone else, and I always end up feeling like a heel whenever someone reads anything I've done in this room. But to hell with it. This is me, and this is now, so it's real, and it's a part of me.

Please, join me here?

END TRANSMISSION...

Eloi, Eloi

What have I done? (listening to: Energetic Hold Music)

So, I'm sitting here on hold with a customer at work, and realized that I haven't blogged in much too long. Apologize. Mea Culpa. I'll try and blog while I'm solving these people's stoopid problems. (I love my job)

I shot my very first commercial yesterday. For Minnesota School of Business. It was... an interesting experience, and a very lucrative one. 90 minutes of work. Let me tell you something:

IT is quickly showing itself in all realms of business as a necessary and powerful language. I teach IT at Minnesota School of Business / Globe University to give students the edge they'll need to succeed in the marketplace. Along with their IT degree, they can become proficient in Database Design, Network Administration and Software Development. Our IT grads are confident, prepared, and in-demand.

And, cut. Things I've learned from this experience:

• I pronounce the word "our" like "are." This is not a good thing. Try it yourself sometime in conversation. I'll bet you do, too.
  
• Saying the phrase "business as a necessary" is a lot of s-sounds. It doesn't read well on-camera.
  
• 5 seconds is much faster than you think.
  
• The director will laugh at the first few times you muck up a line, but after the 10th or so, it's not funny anymore.
  

So, that was a humbling experience. I learned that I didn't like the work, but I like the paycheck. Ain't that always the way? I'll be getting a DVD of the spot in a couple weeks, so look for it here or on my website.

July 4th is rapidly coming up. If you can read this, there's going to be a big pool party at my place. It's going to be awesome. We're grilling (BYOM) and drinking (BYOB) and swimming (BYO... nudity?) and watching the fireworks (provided). Let me know if you're planning on coming so I can prepare. But do come. Everyone's gonna be there.

I've been very busy with Agamemnon opening up last weekend to a GREAT crowd. Thanks to everyone who could make it. We haven't been reviewed yet, but I'm hoping we will this weekend. That would be nice. If you haven't seen it yet, come check it out! I get a sword! And a hot mistress! What else is there?

Quick things I'm thinking about before I sign off.
- I don't care if Paris Hilton goes to jail or not. I quite literally have better things to do with my mental energy.
- Dr. Pepper is possibly the greatest soda ever.
- Though, Mr. Pibb and Red Vines DOES equal crazy-delicious.
- Please, don't let Peyton Manning hang out with your kids.
- If you like licorice, try Twizzlers Rainbow Twists. I promise you won't be disappointed.
- People are losing their verbal skills. If I have to make sense of one more insane customer's babbling, I'm going to go all Jackson Pollock on them.
- I had forgotten what it was like to have someone genuinely caring about your feelings. It's nice. I like it.
- Being inconspicuous about something only works when it's not the ONLY time you're inconspicuous. My co-workers don't understand this.
- The Twins are awesome. How awesome you ask? I'm glad you did. Allow me to leave you with this:


END TRANSMISSION...