Just chilling in Philly with the fam. Tomorrow we are heading up to a beautiful mountain house in upstate NY for a couple days to ring in the New Year. Gonna hike, read by a fire, eat a lot of amazing food, and play some broomball in an outdoor ice rink. In the mean time, here's my recently created demo reel for all to enjoy (I seem to have a penchant for playing smarmy characters)...



Happy 2009 everybody!

Merry Christmas

It's just barely Xmas on the East Coast. Merry Christmas to all. I am in Philly and relaxing. About to go to bed. Will post more later, but wanted to say that this Christmas I am thankful for all of you friends and family. And, to those who might read my blog via google reader, please come to my site and vote on my silly poll.

Santa's on the roof. I'd better get to bed.

Sick and tired

It's 7:30 in the morning. I should still be sleeping, but I woke up sick. I'm so worn thin from studying-- as well as from shooting and working on a couple of different short films. I wish it were Christmas already-- or Xmas, as I seem to call it more often. This is more secular, obviously, but what if you don't even believe in X? And if Christmas is Christ's birthday, would it be presumptuous to call my own birthday Rogermas? What if I heal the sick, die, and then have a holy book amended to include my biography? Tell me, dear reader, what do I need to do to win your undying worship?

Anyway, Rogermas is not for another nine months so you've still got plenty of shopping days left. Meanwhile, I want my tests to be over with. I really don't think this is worth it.

What the hell am I doing here?

So that first test on Monday went fine, I guess. It's all graded on a curve so who really knows? But it was fucking HARD! My God. And it lasted for four hours. Somewhere in the middle of hour three, I thought "this is really stressful... you have to really really want to be a lawyer to put yourself through this-- and as of right now, I am nowhere close to really really wanting to be a lawyer."

So where does that leave me? Well, still undecided. Probably best to make the decision over the holiday break, when I have more distance on it all and time to reflect. However, this certainly does not bode well for the stay-in-law-school camp. Its poll numbers are plummeting. It's the incumbent, of course, so that gives it an advantage, but on Monday the economy went in the toilet. Maybe it's time for a change.

Yes we can!

Tests

So I have my first test of the semester for law school tonight. It's Criminal Law. Pretty fun stuff-- rape, murder, arson, and other criminal hijinks. And then class starts. Ba dum bum.

In general, I'm feeling very tested right now. Of course, there are these actual tests, but also I feel tested by life. I'm in my (gulp) mid-thirties now. My God. It feels like science fiction. Completely unreal. And that's the main test: to really take in the reality of that and figure out what that means as far as the direction of my life. I'm thinking of dropping out of law school, but I haven't decided yet. The question no longer seems to be "what do I want to be when I grow up?" so much as "what do I want to be when I grow OLD?" Kids or no? Actor or lawyer? Teacher or vagrant? Or maybe, if I didn't have the chops to be a professional bum, teach vagrancy? After all, in today's economy, this is a growing field. I believe the children are our future. They'll need to know how to dumpster-dive.

Okay, back to studying. I cannot wait until Xmas break.

Okay, I seriously stink. At this blog thing.

The problem is, folks, that once I don't post for a while, I decide that you must have gotten tired of checking my blog in vain. So then I figure nobody could possibly still be reading it so what's the point in posting?

So here I am, talking to myself. I don't know why I've decided to finally post; what was the impetus to get me over that mental block. Maybe it is just that I need a break from the stress in my life. Maybe it is that I miss everybody and want to reconnect. Maybe, just maybe, it is that I just broke my hand by punching my bathroom door.

Of course, I didn't mean to. I was in the shower and the vent was on. I need this vent to be on because my skin really hates the humidity-- I mean REALLY hates it. My face becomes dry and irritated and red in the shower if I don't take certain precautions. So anyway, this vent, I says, this vent. This vent was somehow causing the shower curtain to billow into me during the shower. I'd push it away and it would billow right back into me, making it very difficult for me to wash my daily dose of guilt and shame off my body. So finally, frustrated, I punched the curtain. Twice. The first time was uneventful. The second time, however, brought about intense pain. The entire curtain and rod combo came crashing to the floor, revealing this naked, insane banshee in my mirror, grabbing his hand and howling. I had no idea at first what the hell I could have come in contact with. There was nothing in front of me that could have been on the other side of the curtain. I punched a phantom.

Then I remembered the other thing I do to prevent the build-up of humidity during my showers: I leave the door open. It wasn't open now, of course. Some jackass had punched it closed. Goddamn, that hurt.

It's not too bad now. I have been icing it down all night and it's only very slightly swollen. And clearly I can type with no difficulty. And there's no discoloration. I think I must have merely sprained it. I just hope it doesn't get worse overnight.

Now I know what it's like to punch a person in the jaw. I don't recommend it.

Crazy

I am going crazy. Watching all this footage and not getting enough exercise. Just cooped up, working, but motionless. At least there are thunderstorms tonight to break up the doldrums. And break the awful heat and humidity we've had the last week.

On Friday evening I will be going to Maine with my family. Looking forward to that, but a lot of work to be done in the mean time. Watching more friggin' videos. Sooo tired of it.

I'm about to...

figure out how to download pics from my camera, which I've been meaning to do. Mostly of my trip to London. Unfortunately I think it may just be a simple matter of connecting a cord that I do not possess.

I will try, though, today and, if successful, I will post some pics in just a wee bit.

In the mean time, my life is flashing before my eyes. Or rather, my family's life. I have been going thru a daily grind of watching old home videos all summer. I then write down the timecode whenever something vaguely interesting or revealing happens. Sometimes this is frequent; sometimes it is not. My Dad has taken roughly 150 hours of footage over the years, on various formats, and sometimes he really takes advantage of the fact that videotape is cheap. Hours of the mostly unvarying South Dakota countryside on a trip out west, long stretches of close-ups of 19th century architecture or antique furniture. This is what he apparently felt would be interesting to subsequent generations.

"This is how they lived," think the people 500 years from now, "they studied previous generations just like us."

Or maybe... "Wow, in the old days they didn't have people-- only buildings and furniture."

Anyway, so far I am up to 1995, still a long way to go before I can start editing all this into a documentary. Whew.

Are you still there?

After weeks of checking in hopes that maybe Roger has posted something new, only to be repeatedly disappointed, just when you are about to give up on him, he goes and posts this wonderful post. You just can't help but forgive him. You can't.

Life continues here on the east coast. I played softball today with my brother in this pick-up game of locals that happens every Sunday evening from Memorial Day to Labor Day. It was so much fun. I made some errors at shortstop, but I also never got out when I was batting. Most of that, of course, is due to the fact that I hit a lot of ground balls towards the secondbaseman, a position usually played by the less coordinated players. So here's to you, clumsy slow-footed secondbaseman. Your mediocrity canceled out mine.

Meanwhile my parents are now both sick and barfing. Must be something going around. I hope I don't get it. Knock wood (and then wash my knuckles thoroughly).

The documentary of my family I've been working on came to a halt this past week because (1) my dad's video equipment broke and I had to wait for the "new" stuff I bought on Ebay to arrive and (2) I took a trip to Chicago. The past few days I have been back on track. Still a lot of footage to log though.

The trip to Chicago was great. On Sunday I hosted a roast for my friend Jonathan who is leaving Chicago for Maine. Very fun but bittersweet. So good to see all my Chicago friends, and everyone was funny and spoke from the heart, but it was sad to see Jonathan so brokenhearted. I know how he feels. My old theatre company, Barrel of Monkeys, is comprised of an amazing group of people and it hurt like hell to leave. Monday I saw BoM's Monday night show and went out for drinks after. Tuesday I had an audition and then walked around downtown Chicago by myself, went to the Art Institute and Millenium Park. What an amazing city. I miss it.

Okay, signing off. I really will try not to be such a stranger. Please keep me in your rotation of blogs to check. I'll be good.

Life is not as dramatic as I thought it'd be.

Here I am. Sitting in my parents' kitchen. Checking email and procrastinating on the web. There have been no major fights or family squabbles. There have been no life-changing, tear-jerking epiphanies for me. Only the day-to-day routine of watching old home videos and logging them on a little sheet for my upcoming family documentary. Of course, it's been just me and my father hanging around here since I got home from London-- my mother left for her own European excursion the day I returned-- so maybe now that she's home the fireworks will start. Just in time for the Fourth of July.

I have to say, though, that watching the videos, while mostly tedious, has been somewhat enlightening as well. The ones I'm watching now are from 1986. Commercially-available video cameras were a new thing at the time so my father was in love with the idea that you could just let the tape run (and run and run) with relatively little cost compared to film. My Dad taped many family scenes (the dinner table, opening presents at Xmas) with the camera on a tripod, left to run for a good half-an-hour or 45 minutes. This extended exposure gives future viewers such as myself what I would consider a fairly true slice-of-life look into the past. The nostalgia one usually feels for "the good old days" and the jealousy of the past's greener grass is replaced by some fantastic schadenfreude. That is, joy in the pain of others. Although, here, it is joy in the pain of one's past self. It's not that I feel superior to my past self so much as I feel that the past was really no better than the present. There were fantastic moments of love, but also bickering and pettiness. There was a great deal of fun, but plenty of frustrating monotony as well. I suddenly have a much better memory of my middle school years than most people. Yikes. But really it's amazing to be able to relive one's past accurately, with all the bumps and bruises (or, more appropriately, the greasy hair and acne). Of course, everyone remembers their awkward years in varying degrees of abstraction, but there's not much room to distance yourself when you sit through two straight hours of your strange hyperactivity and even stranger cartoon voices and impressions. Thank goodness I don't do that anymore.

I am old and fat

I know this sounds self-pitying, but I don't mean it that way. It's really just how I feel these days. Well, the fat thing is objective-- I have gained a lot of weight and am now heavier than I've ever been in my life. A circumstance I mean to change this summer. Today my brother took pictures of me and my nephew at the Phillies game-- a lot of profile shots-- and my jawline is obscured by fat. It's not by any means a double chin, but on its way in that direction. Like I say, though, I don't feel too bad about this, just determined to fix it.

As for the old thing, I cannot reverse time. Of course I'm not really old. I know that. But I am at an age where I start evaluating what I've done with my time on this earth so far. And I feel like I should have accomplished more. I also feel like I am going to be old very soon. Time seems to have sped up greatly. I really believe what they say about time being an illusion. It is all in the perception. A year to me goes by so fast, but for my four-year-old nephew it probably feels like an eternity. I wish I knew how to change my perception so as to slow time down, but alas I do not and, at age 33, the big 4-0 seems so much closer than the big 3-0 felt when I was 23. Furthermore, I imagine that when I'm 43, the big 5-0 will seem like the day after tomorrow. Each year gets smaller and smaller as I go through my life. It's like, when you're a kid, someone shows you the birds-eye floor plan of a corridor and you see that it is 500 feet long. You think "Wow, that is one long-ass corridor! I have so much room!" But then as you actually walk down the real thing, you discover the ceiling gets lower and lower the farther you go. This is clearly an imperfect metaphor, but it is very accurate in describing how claustrophobic I feel. My birth thirty-three years ago seems much farther away than my old age thirty-three years ahead. I can see all too clearly how it will all play out and so I've already played it out in my head. This is what makes me feel old. Really old. This is what threatens my sanity. I know I need to resist the idea that my life has already been lived, but I'm struggling. The sensation that my life has sped up and will continue to do so can either destroy my motivation or enhance it.

Is this what they call "mid-life crisis"? Then why don't I have the desire to buy a sportscar or date a much younger woman? Maybe that's only for men who have a wife, a mortgage, and two and a half kids. For someone like me, who has none of these responsibilities, maybe instead I crave some structure.

Alright, now it's late and I'm carrying on incoherently. Good night.

Day of Amusement

I spent the day today at Dorney Park with a Los Angeles friend. This was my first time at this old amusement park since 6th grade. Boy, has it changed. Now it has tripled in size. A good thing too since there were so many obese hicks in attendance. There were also many high school kids. I think I was the oldest person in the park without a child in tow. Sigh.

I've found that as I'm getting older, the thrill is gone. The rollercoasters don't intimidate me as much, but they also do not excite me as much. Don't get me wrong. I had a lot of fun, but it was kind of a muted fun. It sort of felt like when you first eat McDonald's again as an adult after years away from it. You remember it as you experienced it as a child: with lots of excitement and a sense you were getting a treat. But now the McBloom is off the McRose. The initial thrill when you enter the place returns nostalgically, but seconds after you've eaten the food, you just feel dirty. That's how Dorney Park felt at times today-- like empty calories.

You can never go home again.

How poignant.

Roger really does stink... at blogging

Wow, I apologize. I have let you down, dear reader, by not blogging much at all from London.

All I can do is try to be better about it now that I'm back stateside. Or at least try to try.

So here I am in Philadelphia. I spent my day doing mundane tasks and being annoyed by my father. My father is a big reason I am spending this summer closer to my family, but he can be a pain in the ass. There was no major drama today. Just trying to help out with numerous errands and my dad was crotchety.

What a great word. Crotchety. It's got those hard nasty consonants that make "grouchy" a perfect sound for what it means. Only this has that extra syllable. Taking grouchy to that next level. Here's a sample of my day:

Me (on the phone with my father): Dad, I have to pick Matt & Maggie up from the airport now so I can't wait for mom's instruction email from Sweden any longer [she needed some documents sent]. Are you still at work?

Dad: Yes. I'm going to be here for a long time.

Me: Well, then maybe you could check my email and call me on the road if mom sends something.

Dad (yelling): What?!?! No! I can't check YOUR email at MY work!!!

Me: Don't you have internet access there?

Dad: I can't just-- oh, wait. Yes. Oh. Yes I can. How do I do it?

...

The long summer begins.

no pics, but a maudlin post

I am posting this, against my better judgment, at 4 in the morning. I have been having a lot of fun here in London (and will post pictures, I swear, I'm just not savvy enough to do it yet-- but i will get help), but yesterday I saw an amazing production of Major Barbara by Shaw at the National Theatre. The play is very political and philosophical and this particular staging of it was incredible-- the acting, the directing, the design. The amazing production makes me wish I was in the show, makes me wonder what the hell I think I'm doing in law school right now. All I really wanna do is act, perform, or otherwise connect with people in an artistic fashion. There is a lot of interesting stuff in law school, but on a day-to-day level being a lawyer seems like a shitty day job. Just like all the shitty day jobs I've ever had, just much much better paying.

Also, this trip has reminded me who I am when i'm not around theatre folks. It has been a long long long time since I've hung out with non-theatre types on a regular basis. Observing my own behavior and how much more relaxed I am around them has given me perspective on how much of a front I've put up for my theatre friends for years. Not that I've been false exactly, but I think I've tried too hard to be something I'm not. I've been very self-conscious for years that I'm not artsy enough to be accepted by the theatre world. I come across as such a conservative guy and I think I've spent far too much time and energy fighting that image. Not that I want to embrace that image either, but just ignore that image and not let it get in my way. Just because I'm juvenile and do not entirely understand the human condition does not make me lesser, right? I need to stop trying to be perfect for whatever group I'm around. I think this effort has compromised my integrity somewhat. I have been sucking in my artistic gut for a long time and I'm exhausted. Time to let it all hang out. Time to raise my freak flag and not worry if it's not freaky enough to be in the vanguard of the outcasts.

Okay, this feels like a long rambling post. I knew writing this at such a ridiculous hour was a bad idea. The sun will be up soon. I apologize for my incoherence.

A more lucid post soon.

My strange life in England

I've only been here in London for three days, but it feels like much much longer. I am in a coed flat-- two guys and three girls. Separate bedrooms and, thank goodness, two bathrooms, but a shared kitchen and living room. It's like I'm in undergrad again. And my roommates are fun, but a little bit nuts. Especially this one girl--she is a crazy party girl. She has truly gone wild. No, I have not slept with her. However, I cannot say the same about my roommate. Last night I slept on the couch.

Yes, it is a reality show.

I'm probably too old for this. Especially now, I'm in desperate need for some alone time. Fortunately a whole bunch of people in the program are spending this weekend in Amsterdam, including the party girl. Don't get me wrong-- I actually like her and in general I've been drinking and socializing a lot-- a good time-- but I would like some more time to myself to check out museums and theatre.

I have not spent much time being introspective yet this summer-- this trip to London is a bit too distracting for any of that-- but it is in the back of my mind. Being here does make me want to travel more-- maybe get a job that lets me travel all the time.

I will post pictures soon!

Stay tuned...

Sorry, everyone, I've been down at the beach with family. And now I'm about to head out to the airport to fly to England for three weeks. BUT FEAR NOT. I will have internet access there and will do my best to post all the wackiness from London. Cheerio.

NOW I'm gonna work

Okay, I've spent the weekend and Monday recreationally. But when my family is around, especially my nephews (2 years old and 4 years old), who can think about work? There will be enough time this summer when they are all off doing their own things and isn't that a better time to work on myself and my projects? The answer to all of this, dear reader(s), is yes. So if ask you this in real life, you know what to say.

I want to put more photos on this blog but I need to figure out my father's computer first. Stay tuned...

Day of Relaxment and Enjoyation

Today I...

mowed my parents lawns, front and back,

fought with my mother,

went to a Phillies game with mother, brother, and sister.

Overall, a very good day. Sure, there was that little tiff with my mother. But it was short and quickly forgotten. The Phillies lost, but the game was exciting anyway--lots of exciting plays at the plate, etc. And I really actually enjoyed mowing the lawn. I don't get to participate in physical labor that much. I have no lawns to mow or decks to build or houses to maintain. I can see why so many suburbanites enjoy it all. Maybe I'm turning into a podperson, but it is really satisfying to push a machine across the yard and watch the square patch of tall grass get smaller and smaller.

Really? Am I getting that old? Yeah, maybe so. Can't I still be young and old at the same time though? Why does all this lawnmowing mean I can't still enjoy hanging out at a bar, taking risks, or playing the fool?

It doesn't, Roger. You can do it. Yes you can. Barack Obama says so.

Day Two on This Strange Planet

Yesterday I walked around Crum Creek in my hometown. It runs through Swarthmore College's woods. It was very nice and relaxing and thought-provoking. I got very introspective, especially when I wandered over to the train tressel where so many have jumped or fallen to their deaths over the years. There I saw many spraypainted messages that show (1) how hippie Swarthmore College is...



(2) how poetic (this says "only intelligence considers options. I am somewhere lost in the wind")...



and (3) how encouraging...



Today has not been so poignant. I've spent most of it so far wrestling with my father's computer, trying to get the wireless router to work so I can post important blog entries like this one from my own laptop. So far? Computer 1, Roger 0.

Next week, starting on Monday, I plan to be much more creatively productive.

East Coast Love

So now I'm done with FINALS!!! Thank Christ. Now I'm back in Philly staying with the 'rents. (is it still cool to call them "'rents"?) It's hard for me to process that I will be here until mid-August. My body is like a pet that has been trained for a certain routine-- come home, relax for a few days, then get the hell out-- and it feels very confused when I tell it we'll be around for most of three months.

I packed two large suitcases to the brim for this "trip." One barely made it under the weight limit, and that was only because the nice Southwest airlines employee gave me a half-pound "grace period." 50.5 pounds. That's how heavy one bag is. What can I say? I have a lot of clothes, shoes, and make-up.

It's actually books, board games, and sheet music that makes up most of the weight. I needed to bring more of my recreational items if I'm gonna be here for that long. Speaking of which, I guess this is Day 1 in my summer of productivity. My #1 project is making this family documentary-- and in the process practice editing skills that I can hopefully use back in L.A. I wish I'd brought my good video camera from my apartment. Oh well. My #2 project is a little more vague: I'm thinking either I'll write a musical or a one-man show or a combination thereof. Anyway, I don't think I'll start working right away on any of this so maybe this shouldn't be Day #1. After all this studying, I think I deserve at least a few days of relaxing with my family before trudging down the creative path.

We'll see how it goes.

A Quest For A Time Machine to Take Me Forward 36 Hours

Tomorrow is my final final. I just want it to be over. A lot of myself is already waiting for me on the other side. It's already over there at Tuesday, relaxing, having fun, and taunting me. Mmmmm, ahhhhh, ohhhhh all this free time! It's sooooooo goooood! Screw you, Tuesday self, I have to concentrate.

This blog will get deeper, I swear

But for now you'll just have to settle for short posts about nothing much.

I took the second of the three tests I must pass. One more and I will reach the chamber that houses the holy grail. My last test is multiple choice. Let's hope... that I... choose... wisely.

Anyway, again I'm buzzing from the weight that's been lifted off my chest. I don't know where all this is taking me, but I sure am enjoying getting off the ride.

I guess, in all seriousness, being back in school is making me think long and hard about how much I want to accomplish with my life and how much I want to have fun. Of course, the two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive, but a lot of things worth having take a lot of putting that proverbial nose to that proverbial grindstone. Right now I really would like to be acting in a show. That's still work, but it's fantastic work. I haven't been doing this law school thing because I don't like acting anymore. I'm just exhausted from years of looking for acting work. That's the shitty part. When I am acting or performing, there's nothing I'd rather be doing, but everything before and after the times I'm acting-- the auditioning, the rejections, the mailing of headshots, and the lifestyle of living hand-to-mouth-- has gotten really old. After all, I'm in my thirties now. I look around me and life seems like it has sped up tenfold. I don't necessarily feel like I need to have arrived at a destination by now, but I do feel like the scenery out the driver-side window should have started to change. I need more stability now than ten years ago. Not too much stability, but enough to make me feel like I've built a foundation of something.

Alright, now it's too late and I wasn't supposed to get all deep yet. To bring us back...

fart.

Much better.

I am an old man who doesn't understand these things

Uhh, I figured the link in the last post would just naturally be a hyperlink you could click on. I was wrong. I don't know how to make it do what I want. If you wanna see the youtube-- as the kids call it-- you're just gonna have to copy the link to your...

Uhh...

space-up-top place.

A post about nothing, just to prove I can

That's right. I'm trying to get myself to post more often, even if I don't think I have anything to say. Cuz perhaps I will come up with something as I type. Ya know? Maybe something brilliant and poignant will spring forth from my fingers as I write this. Vuvuvuvuvu. Mumoooooooo. Yeah. That's improv. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here. And I'm loving every minute. Anything goes! Meany meany mimimimi. Hey hey I'm a monkey. The people can kiss my bootay! Oh yeah.

Wow.

I guess I was wrong. Improvising blog posts is not such a great idea after all.

But I am enjoying watching really great improv on youtube. My favorite thing on Whose Line is It Anyway? is always when Ryan and Colin do the Sound Effects game. They are brilliant. Here's a good one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_MLpgGlLC0&feature=related

Love it.

One down...

Just finished taking my first final exam of law school. It feels great to have that one out of the way. I have no idea if I did well or if I tanked it. Probably the latter. But I'm buzzing anyway. Just the feeling of having a stress lifted is what's doing it, I think.

Maybe that's what I really want more of in my life. What I crave. That feeling of accomplishment. Maybe it doesn't really matter what I do, as long as I feel accomplished after doing it. They should make a drug that gives you a feeling of accomplishment. Maybe they do. Would that be speed? Never having taken anything stronger than marijuana (that I know of), I wouldn't know. If anyone can recommend a drug for that feeling of accomplishment, I'm all ears. And don't say life. I like getting high on life, but sometimes it's hard to find some good shit.

Anyway, now on to study for the next test on Friday. Then one last one on Monday night and then I fly east to Philly. I cannot wait.

Quest for something to say

Sorry it's been so long since I posted. I've thought about it many times in the past ten days, but every time I do I decide that I don't have anything to talk about.

I still don't.

Well, okay, I guess I do. I am getting ready to finish my classes that I'm taking and head home to Philadelphia for the summer, with a brief detour to London. My trip to Philly is mostly to be closer to family while my Dad is sick and recovering from an operation he has scheduled for mid-May. I am really looking forward to it. I have felt left out of my family-- by my own doing, of course-- and I can't wait to spend a lot more time joining in the fun. Yes, that's right. I said it. My family is fun. I am one of the lucky few who have a family they enjoy spending time with. And not just most of my family-- I am close to every single member.

That being said, I am also expecting to be annoyed and frustrated by them sometimes this summer. Usually I only see them for a week or two, tops. This kind of a homecoming can't help but be joyful and give me a skewed idea of how it might be were I to return for a longer period of time or even permanently. But I'm not fooled. I know people's foibles will drive me crazy at points. However, I am still looking forward to it. A lot.

The trip to London is to take some law classes. Well, no, let me amend that. I'm only taking the classes pass/fail so really it's an excuse to see lots of great London theatre. Maybe I'll learn a thing or two along the way, but that's hardly the point.

So anyway, these last two weeks before I head east are mostly being spent wrapping things up: finishing teaching some classes on the weekends, studying, preparing for the trip. Most of my days are spent doing one or all of these things. That's why I don't really have much of interest to say. The interesting stuff will start, hopefully, when I go home.

Oh, and did I mention, my two projects for the summer while I'm in Philly are (1) making a documentary of my family (ridiculous amounts of footage taken over the years and it might help me practice editing skills I can use back in LA) and (2) writing either a musical or a one-man show or a combination thereof.

Hopefully there will be plenty more blogging then.

Recovering FUN-oholic! Eh? Eh?

Yeah, spent most of the day recovering from a late night with my friends celebrating my friend Luke's birthday. These days I wonder if these kind of get-togethers are all I live for. My first answer is... yes. All I wanna do is have some fun. But this ain't no country club-- this is LA.

Anyway, I'm thinking a lot these days about what the point of my life is. Have I really just been chasing a good time all these years? This seems very trivial like the titular toiletry. Maybe I'm just a trivial person and should be okay with that. Maybe I like playing games too much to ever really contribute much to this world. I mean, I know I've contributed a lot so far, but compared to most people, I'm not really that much of a workaholic, especially if people are being social, playing games (board, video, sports), having fun. I can't say no and stay in and do work. That just seems against the very core of me.

I guess I'm thinking about this because there was a lot I should have been doing today instead of sleeping off an all-night party. But then again, maybe there's no such thing as "should have." I guess since I don't really have that many responsibilities to other people in my life these days-- I don't have a family to take care of, or a full-time job-- all my responsibilities are to myself. And if I give myself permission to have a good time, then who am I to say anything to myself about what I should have done? After all, I was the one who gave myself permission in the first place. So shut up, self. It's the pot calling the pot black. What a hypocrite. Yeesh, get off my back.

Good Friends

Just got back from hanging out with some good friends out here in L.A. They are very good friends, though I have known them for less than a year. The kind of people I was spoiled with in my old theatre company in Chicago, Barrel of Monkeys. Interesting, smart, fun to just chill out with and throw a few drinks back over good conversation. These kind of people are hard to find out here. Not that the people aren't good, but a lot of them aren't my style. They wanna go clubbing or they wanna talk about their stocks or their babies or their babies' stocks (never too early to start).

These stock-talking, baby-having peeps are becoming more and more the norm in my life as I am propelled further into my thirties. They are still the same people; they just don't have time now for anything but their babies and their families' security. I don't begrudge them that-- I'd be the same way, I'm sure-- but it does give me perspective on just how much we owe our parents for raising us. Not just for what they've done for us, but for what they haven't done because of us. All the good times with friends they've sacrificed to look after their progeny.

This is all bullshit, of course. Nobody is consciously sacrificing good times for their children-- their children really are the good times for them. I guess, for me, it's just frustrating when their headspace is so taken with stocks and child-rearing that they can't seem to relate on any other level. They can really only be good friends with others who have babies and can thus exchange similar stories of spitting up.

Wow, I don't know what prompted this rambling about some of my parent friends. I guess it's because I want to work on my friendships a lot more now than I have before so I'm thinking a lot about the subject. But I've never really felt that bitter about it. Or I don't think so, anyway. Not consciously. Maybe I'm just jealous and feel left out when they start talking babies. But I'll tell ya: it sure doesn't sound that interesting.

Fun with comics

This is how I spend my time when I visit my folks in Philly.

Only six months later...

Hello world. I am a born-again blog.

No, that does not mean I have found Jesus. I tried Googling Jesus once. He's done a lot apparently.

I am such a delinquent. I just haven't felt much like blogging since November. I have selfishly been reading other people's blogs, but not contributing.

I am still in LA. I am still in law school. I am still living in a nice studio. I am still confused by life.

I guess I'll give you the Playboy mansion story, for what it's worth. There really isn't much to tell.

Yeah, back around Halloween I got a job scaring celebrities in Hugh Hefner's incredibly high-tech haunted house in the backyard of the Playboy Mansion. It was hell. The novelty of being at the Playboy mansion quickly wore off when they showed me where I'd be standing in the spookhouse and what I'd be doing. Basically it consisted of me, in zombie makeup done by Oscar-winning make-up artists with airbrushes, in a dark room filled with dummies made up to look like dead bodies hanging in plastic bags from the ceiling. This room was, in fact, incredibly well done and scary. There was a strobe light and the dummies were packed in closely enough that people had to push their way through. On top of that, a number of the bodies were rigged so they would convulse and jerk violently when a motion sensor was set off. I stood behind one of the last of the hanging corpses and, just as my victims thought they had made it safely through and had convinced themselves how fake it all was, I dropped my hand on their shoulder and then started to convulse and scream.

I did this for seven straight hours. Granted, I did get a whopping 10-minute break. But between the strobe lights; the loud looped horror soundtrack of squeaking doors, maniacal laughter, and horrifying screams; and the obnoxious party-goers who thought it'd be hi-larious to try and tickle me, I nearly lost my mind. And for this I got paid all of $100.

The real reason I did it, of course, was that at the end of the seven hours-- at two in the morning-- I got to actually join the party. The thought of getting wasted with celebrities and centerfolds was what kept me going. But when I got changed and got into the party, I was severely disappointed. There were not that many celebrities around by then and really the whole party was winding down. Winding down?! This is the Playboy Mansion's famous Halloween party!! I figured it'd go til 6 in the morning. But really I just had a few drinks, saw mostly crappy minor celebrities like Mario Lopez and Frankie Muniz (this is the third time I've seen him: first time in LAX years ago when I was just visiting, second time on the Fox lot while I was auditioning for something and he was on break from shooting Malcolm in the Middle, and now here-- and every time he looks so pissed off and depressed). I did get to order a drink at the bar next to James Woods though! Dressed as "dapper guy." He was wearing a snazzy tux with a top hat. That was the other major disappointment: the costumes. I figured these celebrities with their bigger-than-life personalities and millions of dollars would be going all out for this party. Instead, lame nurse outfits or guys dressed up as baseball players. The highlight of my evening was getting hit on by a blond with fake boobs. I mean really fake. She had to wear gravity boots to keep them from floating her entire body off the ground. Her name was Randy. Yes, of course. She was not the brightest star in God's firmament.

I left the party around 2:15. That's when they turned the lights up like they might in a bar to tell everyone to get the hell out. Seven hours of hell for a little over an hour of mere purgatory. Really not worth it.

So there it is. Consider my blog updated. I will try and be good about it from now on.