Lucky Star

Stages of LA

2011-02-03T12:22:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine has taken the leap and is out in Los Angeles for pilot season. It's a story that makes just about every LA actor shift uncomfortably in their seats. Hell, it makes EVERYONE shift in their seats. It's making me shift around so much that I had to blog about it. She asked me if, much like stages of grief, there are stages of LA. Well, Chita, there are. Here ya go:

The Stages of LA:

Stage One: Delirious Hope
In Stage One of the LA experience, the sunshine causes a massive shift in the Hope gland. Symptoms, which are often self-perpetuating, include an urge to exercise or at least go outside more frequently, wide eyes, deep breaths, and random giant smiles. Call it the "fresh off the bus" syndrome. During Stage One you often run into random, 'meaningful' celebrities (mine was Breckin Meyer), food will taste better (surprise, its Southern California, where food is just fresher) and you will be bombarded with LA's favorite form of religion: New Age spirituality! Get ready for lots of SIGNS, and plenty of serendipitous meetings and parties. LA loves a Stage One-r and gets easily infected by their momentum. This is a good time to take meetings and buy a new pair of shoes.

Stage Two: Prideful Determination
Ah Stage Two - elusive and curious. In Nature, a Stage Two-er resembles a Lone Wolf. In Stage Two the freshness has begun to wear off, but the residual momentum has become more than just kinetic energy, it is now a habit. There is a sense of ownership of place - this is your territory now, a place you belong... but not quite. Because in Stage Two, you are still DIFFERENT. There are two major symptoms that define Stage Two. The first is a sense of peaceful superiority, rightfully earned. While others failed to take a risk, leave the pack, jump in the dangerous rapids, YOU, Oh Stage Two-er, were more daring. More brave. More crazy. And you did it. You are here, in LA, and you took the leap. This is it, the big time, and you didn't DIE when you jumped. Like a marathon runner moving one leg in front of the other, you are in it to win it, and that's more than most anyone can say for themselves. This will be enough to sustain a Stage Two-er through the most terrifying of ordeals: getting started. The second key symptom is directionless determination. While in Stage One, you taste the excitement of locating the Best Local Farmers Market, In Stage Two you are now dealing with the more undefined task of "Realizing the Dream." Stage Two-ers are easily recognizable at Headshot print shops and Samuel French stores. This is where they gather, and you will see their heads held high. Note the slight odor of denial.

Stage Three: Stupidity
Stage Three and Stage Two are like a pair of first-time two-steppers - they can never decide who's leading. It will be awhile before someone is fully in the throes of Stage Three. The shift comes when the internal clock, planted within by society, friends and loved-ones (albeit unintentionally) - when this timer starts to reach the RESULTS stage. Each clock is different, but they all eventually cause the reality check gland to start producing massive amounts of Comparison hormones. It should be noted that the Reality Check Gland is absolutely necessary for survival in most human beings, but is missing in a few select folks, namely Tom Cruise. It is also questionable as to whether or not Glenn Beck has one. Stage Three is triggered by the RCG generating an arbitrary desire to place a tangible value on experiences gained thus far - in effect, to QUALIFY the LA journey. You will question the judgment that lead you to leap from the safety of the pack into this wilderness of highways and palm trees. Had you chosen to watch the movie version of this wild, action-packed adventure, you would have left at about minute fifteen, out of sheer boredom. Is it Stupidity then, that led you to believe this leap was worth taking? In due course, a Stage Three-r has begun to recognize other LA people who have done the same thing they are doing - and unable to identify a DIFFERENCE, you can no longer maintain the Stage Two, Lone Wolf mentality. Stage Three-rs are often found screaming and crying in their cars, chugging lattes at the nearest Urth Cafe, and shaking their heads in the relative darkness of movie theaters while watching recently nominated box office failures.

Stage Four: Selective Nostalgia
Stage Three is tumultuous and painful, and does not often last long. In the LA journey, one either shifts back to Stage Two, or transitions into Stage Four. Stage Four generally begins when you finally start to develop an immunity to self-loathing. Assisted by several occurrences of senseless rejection, the exhaustion of perpetual denial brings itself to a stage of almost euphoric reminiscing. A fully progressed Stage Four-er generally seeks the comforts of the noble aspects of the craft. You will often begin the Artist's Way, sign up for a Level One performance class of some sort, or apply for Grad School. The Stage Four-er has difficulty recalling the impetus for taking the Leap, and simply remembers the past as a time when life was easier, simpler, and BETTER. The 'Thousand Yard Stare' is shared by Stage Four-ers and life sentence prisoners alike. Stage Four is the darkest stage of the LA journey, and can last several years. A Stage Four actor is sometimes unfairly labeled as the Bitter Actor, and is generally not the best person to seek advice on the business from. Ironically, most Stage Four-ers make excellent dramatic actors, if the role is well written and involves a storyline about 'home'.

Stage Five: Benevolent Resignation
Stage Five is one of the most difficult stages to attain while still living in LA. Most actors will need to leave LA before they can actually shift into this final stage. In Stage Five, the awareness of the Bigger Picture has come into full realization. The Inner Clock is silenced, the Reality Check Gland is satisfied by evidence of the ability to exist and receive occasional lattes and new shoes as necessary. Recognition of others on the same journey no longer generates a need for separation, but instead is the impetus to establish a new pack, a new family. Stage Fivers have the charming habit of defending the honor of LA to those who have not taken the journey. Stage Five is not all peace and gummi worms, however. A Stage Five-r is actually a vicious fighter, a dangerous enemy, and a pain in the ass to live with sometimes, because Stage Five-rs have lived through the toughest war, the war with themselves, and are occasionally susceptible to Post Traumatic LA Syndrome. This is necessary to keep the Drama Gland, the same gland which caused them to take the leap in the first place, free of blockage. However, once in Stage Five, generally an actor is equipped to balance hope with experience, reality with television, and journey with destination.

ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT
Any of these stages is subject to be HALTED if the actor books a job or makes out with a celebrity. The concurrent stage will resume accordingly depending on how long it takes to spend the money earned, or whenever the celebrity doesn't call back.

Go East, Young Woman.

2010-03-13T17:13:00.000-08:00

I am leaving for Berlin in two days. Yeah, Berlin GERMANY. My great grandmother came over on a boat in 1913, leaving her German roots (which were more specifically planted somewhere in Russia off the Wolga River) and headed West, young man. And now I've started a fantastic journey which involves quite a bit of heading East. Towards the rising sun. Poetry Alert - this concept is pinging on quite a few levels for me. The idea of Going West is a deeply ingrained American, perhaps even masculine, and definitely youthful spirit. Our young country went West 160+ years ago, searching for land, hope, gold... any number of symbols of American freedom. The West has, for a long time represented so much about the American spirit of space, independence, the future.
The New World is the West.
And for maybe more than a few years I have been drifting back East. Back to Atlanta - sure, that's an obvious one. Over to the Old World of Germany, where East and West have only recently been on speaking terms. But there are other metaphors that I can't help but apply as well. Eastern spirituality has been calling to me lately - yogic retreats, Hindu prayer groups, poly-theistic notions of God within everyone and everything. What does it mean to feel this need to unstitch myself from the fabric of generations of ambition and progress? Am I just getting old, too tired to push further West? Is there any meaning at all in this faintest of patterns? What's left to discover and explore?
When we got to the Grand Canyon last May, I had this little game I would play with myself. I would pretend that I was a pioneer, traveling for years across the uncharted trails of the Midwest, dragging my restless family in tow, not knowing or being able to explain why I needed to keep moving or where the hell I figured we'd end up. And I would imagine that insane moment of vertigo when after the hundredth boring hill you looked up and saw the canyon gaping out in front of you. 'Oh crap.' And 'Oh wow.' In the same breath.
There IS something new about being pulled East. Something more feminine, more creative, in a way the opposite of the pioneering spirit, in the way that one side of the coin is the opposite of the other. If going West is the Young Man's dream, maybe going East is the Young Woman's path. Or maybe I just like to travel.

And one last note: the link I placed up there is a link to the fundraiser campaign we are hosting to generate some financial support for this international collaboration* which has already brought me so much expansion, and may in the future (as it builds momentum) support other wandering artists like me. If you wish to contribute in any way at all, I would be very grateful, even simply for your thoughts and well-wishes. Thanks in advance. -T

*International Collaboration: I am traveling with a small group of artists to Berlin to perform a Fassbinder play titled Bremen Coffee. I play the lead. I will also be doing comedy improv shows every night after the play. It is a dream come true.

How Do You Measure Excess?

2010-01-21T10:19:00.000-08:00

Ah... even the title of my blog post is indulgent. It sounded like such a clever title that I had to use it, whether it really applies to what I want to say or not. "What the heck am I doing?" is probably a better title. The novelty of my move has worn off and the old habits are rearing their ugly heads. I haven't started yearning for LA. I don't know that I ever will. I truly don't think I 'pulled a geographic.' But I'm going to be straight with you here. I think I may have lost my navel-gazing mind. I don't think I can even admit to you what a strange place I am in... I don't want to sound, well, crazy.

I gave up my career, which I had previously given up everything else for... but I never really had a plan. I didn't really ever know what I wanted, specifically, so I couldn't ever really say if I got it. The title of my Blog is Lucky Star, because the phrase that I have found best describes this phenomenon (or essence) is "I was born under a lucky star and I'm just trying to stay under it." I get this image of me, staring straight up into the night sky, like a seal with a ball balanced on her nose, just trying to keep that star balanced above my life.

And now here I am, Square One. Again, I have no goals, no plans, just whims and urges. Most days I pretend that it's fine with me that I live this way - many of my urges lean towards having fun, eating, sleeping and having adventures. But then there are the days when I realize that I may not be able to keep living this way forever, or worse, that I may not WANT to. Its kind of like there is some sort of protective chemical inside my body that puts me to sleep soon after I start thinking this way. If I could just stay awake long enough to make some real choices... And now I'm getting sleepy, very sleepy...

Home

2009-11-08T18:05:00.000-08:00

I've been living in Atlanta now for four and a half months. I'm sitting tonight in my little attic apartment with the door open to let in the cool Fall air. Tomorrow morning I will go four blocks down the street and spend the day working as an office PA for a film production company, helping to coordinate commercials, corporate videos and even indy films. And then in the evening I will go rehearse for a hilarious Christmas improv show at the theater that I have been playing in since I was barely drinking age. I will sneak out afterward to have dinner with two amazing German directors who came in to town five weeks ago to help us put up a Fassbinder play in Decatur. They will be leaving on Wednesday to go back to Berlin, and I will be close on their heels. Well, maybe I'll wait til Spring, but it will be difficult to be patient until then - the work we did together was some of the best work I think I've ever done.
I'm on the stage again. I'm trying to pay my bills doing things that I am proud of - voice overs, production work, plays... It's not glorious. But it's what I can give and keep giving, because it doesn't drain my heart. I love being busy, I love being challenged, and I love being close to my family.
I will never say it was a mistake to have moved to LA. I don't hate LA. But four months later, I still cannot tell you why I left. I do know that I have not spent one moment wishing I hadn't moved. And I can give you plenty of reasons why I'm glad I'm here now.
Seasons.
Everyone coming to my house for Thanksgiving.
Neighborhoods.
Trees.
Theaters.
Friends.
Smaller Ponds.

Leaving LA, Part 2

2009-08-29T09:29:00.000-07:00

Let's see. May 29th, the last entry in my blog, was a Friday. I was sitting in an Extended Stay hotel - now I know what that is, and its terrifying. Tiffany and I needed one last place to stay in town so that we could get her to LAX in the morning. We had spent three weeks insisting on the Four Hour Rule: Do not plan anything further than four hours ahead. The exceptions were few, but included such things as booking the flight, which Z had done a week earlier, when we had been on the road two weeks and it felt like things were coming to a close. When we started the trip, we honestly didn't know where we were going to end up, or how long it would take us to get there. But after two weeks I had started to tap into a long buried well of... for some reason the word 'spirit' feels right here...Anyway, I had begun to feel like a seed probably does when it's been tucked deep into the richest earth, warmed sufficiently and soaked just enough that the shell that has kept it safe has now become a flimsy, uncomfortable restraint.

In church retreat terms, it was time to come down from the mountaintop. So we booked a flight out of LA for Tiff, because all my stuff was still there, and while the Southwest has amazing places every 150 miles, Texas is a Whole 'Nutha Story. We could have called some friends and stayed at their house, reveling in one last night of vacation. For some reason though, Los Angeles didn't feel like part of the deal. So we chose a crappy cheap airport hotel, spent way too much on a neo-cuisine sushi dinner, and went to bed early.

When I came back to the hotel after having dropped Tiff off, I felt... well, that's the thing. I can't really say what I felt, even now, months later. Ask a prisoner what they feel the day before they are to be released. I bet the answer is not relief, or anxiety, or excitement. I bet instead, their eyes will glaze over a bit and they will get quiet, and you won't get any answer at all. Wow - I guess I'm being a bit dramatic here, but it's true - when I got back to LA, when my big roadtrip was over, I didn't really feel anything at all. I just kept going. In my mind I was ready to find an apartment and get going again on my acting life. That was Friday.

Sunday afternoon I called my Dad. He flew into town Wednesday night and by Thursday afternoon I was back on the 10, heading East. By Sunday I was sitting in Tiff and Z's apartment in Atlanta, and I'm not quite sure how I made it that far. I wasn't relieved, I was devastated. My life was irrevocably changed, going back to LA was an insurmountable obstacle - I had jumped into the void.

Without question though, I had to do it. I just knew. It was time to go.

This summer has been intense. Someday I'll be able to look back and describe the highs and lows, the moments when it was almost a disaster, or the glowing signs of change and forward movement. Or maybe this will all be a blur, like a car accident. Right now I feel like I'm simply along for the ride. Like my life was heading this way inevitably, and I'll be lucky if I get to pick where we stop for dinner.

So if I'm not steering, who is? And where the hell are we going? If success is only an accident, and if we aren't in control at all - What would you do with your days?

Flying over Phoenix

2009-05-29T14:35:00.000-07:00

Ha ha! Take THAT! Warner Music Group! That will teach you to try and protect copyrighted material! For my next trick: a final episode of Southwest Escape 2009, using music that other people created, in order to (GASP! SHOCK SOUND!) introduce great bands to my friends and family, who might spend their hard earned coin on an album of their own. What a nasty music pirate am I! YAR!

Thank goodness for broad sweeping corporate censorship. And... bitter rant finished. It really didn't take much to get my selfish way, of course, and now you can enjoy the sounds of Widespread Panic and Kings of Convenience while viewing the final adventures of Tiff and Tara one-point-oh.

A friend mentioned that it seemed there was a lot we were leaving out. Which of course is true - this trip was very much about some soul-searching for both Tiff and I, and I quickly realized soul-searching makes terrible web-vision. It does, however, make for good bloggering, so I will take some time over the next month to try and reflect on what 3400 miles can give a person, besides a lot of gas receipts. In the meantime, thanks for watching and leaving comments, sending prayers and thoughts our way. It all, without a doubt, made a difference.

If I Tell You...

2009-05-28T12:55:00.001-07:00

... then I'll have to kill you. But someone leaked some top-secret footage of Tiffany and I visiting a very unusual gas station in the middle of Southern Arizona, just off the I-10 Southeast of Tucson. I really can't say anymore. I may have already said too much. If you are reading this...

Bats and Rocks

2009-05-26T10:14:00.000-07:00

So Tiff and I decided to flush out a real tourist destination for our Memorial Day Weekend excursion. We chose Carlsbad Caverns, in the Southeast corner of New Mexico, dangerously close to Texas. Here is a video of our thrilling adventure. Needless to say, two weeks of camping and driving is starting to take its toll. We have also been followed by a storm cloud for quite a few days now, and it has made tent sleeping especially challenging. Also, we are reaching the end of our travels, as we head back to LA to face reality. Not quite sure what that is yet, but it will definitely involve some changes, for both of us. You can't help but have a little perspective adjustment when you see this many places, people, sleeping places...

We are getting a little melancholy. Time seems to slip by faster now like the last bits of sand in the hourglass. I hope you've enjoyed these videos as much as we've enjoyed making them - there will be a few more, but the bulk of the party has gone home, and its soon going to be time to start cleaning up. The Scion will be 3000+miles older, and we will both be a little browner. Keep watching though. The craziest things always happen long after the party should have been over...

Shibapu

2009-05-24T17:15:00.000-07:00

(Not Sipupa, which is what I've been saying for the last week...) Shibapu is the mystical entrance that connects the spirit world of the Anasazi (Ancient Pueblo) Indians to the realm above, which is the earthly realm. Isn't that interesting? The Ancient Pueblos believed the spirit world was DOWN BELOW, as opposed to up in the sky or in outer space somewhere, like modern religions believe. Which means that places like the Grand Canyon are held especially sacred, and of course you'd better take care of the Earth, since it's your dead ancestors' roof...

So New Mexico is known for having a lot of spiritual locales as well. Strange, that seems to be a re-occurring theme in our travels: Grand Canyon is the Shibupa of many Indian tribes of today, Sedona with its Vortices, Mesa Verde - duh, and now we have found a few spiritual stops in NM, namely Taos and Truth or Consequences. You'll have to do a bit of your own research to see why, but here's our video to give you a taste!

I don't want to spoil the surprise, but we didn't end up hanging out in El Paso, TX after all. The border crossing and dirty street vendors, reminiscent of a banged up Canal St, had our recently attuned instincts protesting insistently. We drove right through and ended up in a fantastic little neighborhood just 40 miles further down I-10 called Mesilla. The best Mexican food I've had in awhile at La Posta, and a little peace and quiet in a hotel to avoid yet another storm and the screaming-children-at-6am effect that camping in Southern NM tends to include.

I am exhausted! But our trip continues to unfold in a way that suggests the spirit world is as close as the nearest canyon or swimming hole, and our kachinas are making sure that we get to the next moment safely, and with nothing more than a door ding or a broken nail to contend with. We are indeed Blessed.

Mesa Verde Thirsty

2009-05-21T09:25:00.000-07:00

Now twelve days into the trip and finding the Southwest to be more and more stunning and surprising. It really has everything, from high to low, deserts, mountains, wet and dry... Tuesday night we slept safely in our tent as a summer storm swept over us, threatening to blow us into the San Juan River. The tent not only stayed in place, but kept us dry! It was so much fun that we decided to get a hotel room the next night...
Here is the next video. It's a review of our visit to Mesa Verde, as suggested by my friend Big Jay, the best Sous in all of Asia de Cuba. There is also a few shots from our exciting trip down the Animus Rapids, weighing in at Class 1-3, three being the scariest. The entire boat was filled with guides in training, so we got to really ride the meat of the river, which was also at its highest and fastest, running 4100cfps for 5 miles. It took us about 2 hours. Enjoy!

All my Exes Live in Vortexes

2009-05-19T10:04:00.000-07:00

Your impatience is stifling. Here is the next video!

So Saturday morning we drove south from our little campsite to Sedona, AZ where the hippies roam free. We spent the morning in a local coffee shop listening to spoken word artists and a gal who was singing solo for the first time. Here's her MySpace page. Adorable. At one point in her as yet unrehearsed spiel, she mentioned her distaste for her former home: Los Angeles. Sensing a theme here? We took the afternoon to mountain bike around the stunning rock formations of Red Rock, and then got back to the campsite early so we could cook turkey burgers over our first campfire. By the way, I make a great fire, and Tiff makes a heck of a turkey burger and chopped potato feast.

Sunday morning we broke camp early and spent the day making our way to Cortez, CO. Along the way we took the scenic route through the Painted Desert and stopped in the Petrified Forest. In brief: it was a bunch of pretty rocks. The desert is stunning, but my favorite part was the gift shop, where rock and fossil collectors could spend a lifetime drooling.

I have had moments of panic, and a few tentative emails to the various income providing organizations with humble requests to excuse my extended absence. I have moments when I can't believe what I'm doing, and then moments when I can't believe what I'm doing. I have also had a few really strong moments of clarity, and that's what this is all really about. Can I go back to waiting tables? Is it time to find a new place? The more miles I put on the Scion, the closer I get to an answer...

Slide ROCK!

2009-05-18T09:20:00.001-07:00

Wow - what have I gotten myself into? Its 9 days into the road trip and I'm already overloaded with footage and stories! Literally overloaded - my hard drive is filling up and I'm learning a fantastic lesson in letting go of holding on. Clothes that get stained, bugs on the bumper of my new car, sunburn and bloody nose - its just part of the life I have chosen. Can't argue with inevitability! So here is the next segment of our journey. Thanks for hanging in there through our ups and downs. I miss you all, and rest assured, decisions are being made. Heading out this morning to play in Meas Verde. OMG - I'm in Colorado. Amazing.

Arizona Loves You

2009-05-15T20:31:00.000-07:00

Well, we have driven almost a thousand miles now, and the next stops we are featuring in our latest video are the Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon National Park, South Rim. The Scion is holding up amazingly well, but already the Sprint service is useless in the less-populated areas. So the videos will be uploaded as I can find hotspots. Of course the IPhone’s 3G network allowed Tiff to upload the sunrise from the lip of the canyon and send it swiftly to her boyfriend in Atlanta. Guess who will be jumping ship as soon as the new version of the IPhone comes out. Cross your digital fingers for tethering technology!! Free us all, Steve Jobs!

Just outside of the Grand Canyon we stopped in Cameron, which is one of the last and oldest Trading Posts in the country, smack dab in the middle of the Navajo Indian Reservation. We enjoyed ridiculously heavy and tasty Navajo Tacos, which consist of fried bread (Yes, really) topped with beans and beef and cheeses and two shreds of lettuce. I was having trouble enjoying the tacos, however, because I had noticed that my gas gage wasn’t budging – it had been sitting at 7/8 of a tank for a while, and my trip meter read over 100 miles. I was about to sick up my lunch by the time we got to a gas station to fill the tank, just to make sure the gage hadn’t busted on my brand new car. Sure enough, it was right. I have been getting almost 40 miles to the gallon – in the mountains, as well as the desert with AC blowing full blast. Eat that, Prius.

May 9-11 Las Vegas

2009-05-12T10:17:00.000-07:00

So the next leg of my trip has been posted - but here's the deal: I am on Sprint's broadband card, and that means limited data! So I can only upload these damn Video Logs once each, and Blogspot didn't make the cut! If you want to see what happened in Vegas, check it out here and be sure to leave suggestions for songs to listen to on the road, places to go, etc! And special thanks to Z, Mike and Chris for the fun times and Encore hook-up.

Leaving LA

2009-05-09T01:40:00.000-07:00

Ha - Got you with that title, didn't I? So I am hitting the road - here's the real story. Check back regularly for updates. Be sure to comment and subscribe!

Staycation

2009-03-23T11:47:00.001-07:00

'Tis the year of my Jesus birthday. I have, like many people, a yin and yang approach to birthdays. On the one hand, I dread them. Planning parties and waiting for the guests to arrive is the worst kind of anxiety. And there is always the let-down of expectations vs. reality. On the other hand, I love the attention, the turning over of a new leaf, the opportunity to indulge in self-care and self-appreciation. So a birthday is a yearly balancing act. This year, I tried something new. I invited my best friend Tiffany to come stay with me for the week leading up to my birthday. I refused to plan anything in advance, other than that I would not have to work or audition for the entire week - that we would be free to do whatever.

Ideas bubbled over: should we drive up the coast or down? Rough it or stay at a gorgeous earthy resort? For sure, we would be hitting a spa, and many tasty eating spots. But as the week began, and evolved, we realized that staying home was exactly what fit us best. Each day was spent getting up at a reasonable hour, making breakfast, and choosing a simple event or two to fill the day - whether it was a trip to the local camelia gardens (see insert) or a day at the spa. Each day guaranteed at least two culinary experiences, and one shopping excursion.

It was the best birthday to date. I laughed and cried and caught up on some great films (Norma Rae?? Fell asleep before the end - we decided Sally got her Oscar for acting the MOST CONSECUTIVE DAYS of anyone that year). And at the end of it all, no excessive gas or hotel bills! Of course I made up for it with cute clothes and a serious massage/facial, but - as Tiff said, at least I had something to show for it.

The other day I read an article in UTNE talking about the new fad of stay-cations, and I realized I wasn't original. But I am on to something, even if some one already coined the phrase. Staying home is a good way to get away.

The Faint-Hearted

2009-01-21T13:21:00.000-08:00

I was feeling a little under the weather when I crawled downstairs to watch Barack's Inauguration speech. So perhaps that influenced my perception. But I have to be honest. I felt a little like I was back at college, and that I was sitting in a classroom on the first day when the professor is explaining the curriculum and handing out the syllabus. And you are looking around at everyone and thinking "Oh crap. I wonder if I can still drop this course..." I couldn't help feeling like this next semester is going to be one helluva lot of homework. Maybe more than I can handle. I mean, when I signed up for this course last November, I thought it sounded like a lot of fun - historically important change, the ousting of the fat cats, a grass-roots, all-hands-on-deck-so-we-can-turn-this-ship-around movement. The kind of experience that makes us all puff out our chests just a little and strut around the pen.

Oh, except that for some reason, the real work is ahead of us. I don't think I'm being paranoid, thinking that Good Old Barry was looking right at ME when he referred to "those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame." BUSTED. I mean flat-out, ladies and gentleman of the jury please observe Exhibit A, poster child, CALLED OUT. That's me he's talking about. A video game playing, sleep 'til noon, waiting tables after thirty, bona fide Los Angeles ACTOR. GULP.

Maybe I should have read the course description before I signed up for BootStraps 101. I would have seen that the pre-requisites included at least one course in Tightening your Belt, and space in your schedule for voluntary service to mankind. So much for that Battlestar Gallactica marathon I was planning...

My New BABY!

2008-10-19T13:51:00.000-07:00

Christmas came early for the Burbank/Ochs household this weekend. She's black and beautiful...and electric (boogie-woogiex3). I have been wanting a piano for a long time, and since it's a bit much to ship my first love all the way from the shores of the River Styx (Alabama - irony intended); well, I just had to go out and buy it myself. She is a Kurtzweil electric piano, and she sounds amazing. The plusses are that she is much more portable than a real piano, and I can plug a headset in if I don't want to disturb the neighbors/roommate. Also she doubles as a MIDI keyboard, with digital in/out for recording and composing. These functions are a little beyond my skills for now, but I can at the very least compose basic music for my videos... if I am so inclined. I have already given my friend Josh his first official piano lesson (it went very well - he has some bad habits but learns fast). And I spent even more dough on a stack of sheet music to entertain myself for the next year at least. Everything from Ben Folds to Beethoven, which I think is both not much and a whole lot. I have been playing John Williams' Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Czerny's School of Velocity.

It's been awhile since I blogged, and a lot has happened. You'll have to call me if you need filler that desperately. Right now all I can talk about is World of Warcraft, my piano, and how anxious I am for Nov. 4th to arrive.

I promise I won't be a stranger.

Oo! Also I have sheet music for Strangers in the Night....

Yes, That Was Me

2008-06-09T08:33:00.000-07:00

Here is the link to see the teaser trailer I was talking about.

I went Friday to see Kung Fu Panda, which I might not have otherwise seen, except that I was hoping to catch a glimpse of myself on the big screen. I arrived 15 minutes early and sat through countless previews. You know that MovieTickets.com or whoever it is spot where the guy is leaping buildings to get to the box office and then his girlfriend pulls up in the SUV and leans out the window, "Steve, I tried to call you - I already got the tickets on ..."? Yeah, well I saw that spot, and I met the girl who was in the spot this weekend at a bachelorette party (weird), but that's not the point. The point is that I didn't get to see my teaser with me and Steve because they didn't play it. Sigh.

And then my brother, the true film fan in the fam, saw it in New Orleans and called me right away. He also found it on the internet in two clicks of a PC mouse. The link is posted above for you to enjoy, for at least as long as they keep the teaser on the website anyway.

I am very happy with my work. I did a fine job. Let me know what you think.

Workin' with Steve

2008-05-20T13:09:00.000-07:00

So last week I booked a job. Yay!

I played the part of a box office girl who tells Inspector Clouseau (played by Steve Martin) that the tickets for "insert name of summer kids movie here" are sold out. It was described to me as a movie trailer teaser promo. Oh my! Basically its a trailer for Pink Panther 2, which will air like most trailers - before the start of this summer's biggest flicks: Kung Fu Panda, Wall-E, etc. Oh, did I mention I got to work with Steve Martin??? It was a last minute booking, so I spent all weekend devouring Steve's new book, Born Standing Up; I watched the Jerk for the first time all the way through, and also caught Pink Panther 1, which I had never seen. Anyway, the bulk of the trailer, from what I can tell, is the two of us arguing over the fact that he can't get tickets for "" movie - and then he proceeds to break into the theatre anyway.

All weekend long I was floating on my own little cloud. It's always great to have a pending job, because nothing ever seems as hard when you can nod your head while letting your happy little secret put a sparkle in your eye. It was the weekend to run into old friends who have been succeeding wildly in the biz. It was the weekend to have a table of industry folk that you wait on and who get drunk enough to stumble upon that ultimate LA social blunder: What do you really do? It was the weekend to call your parents.

There was no script, and I like it that way. That's my specialty! That morning, on location, Steve was already working by the time I arrived. As I was being escorted to set, fully made-up and costumed, the PA commented on the fact that I was shivering. He said, "Yeah, I know that feeling, when you are so nervous that it makes you shiver. " Um... who had said anything about being nervous? It was the middle of May in LA and a really chilly day for no reason at all! OK, and maybe I was nervous. In fact it seemed that everyone on the crew was expecting me to be a pile of anxiety over having to work with a legend. Apparently it didn't faze them, but I was being treated with kid gloves. And here's the thing: I was really cold, and pretty excited, and even tense - but I wasn't nervous. No really, I swear. Although the PA's comments weren't helping.

"OK, it's time - follow me," that same PA announced in hushed tones to me as he lead me by the elbow towards an open door in the old movie theatre where Steve was shooting. It was between shots, and Steve was standing behind the video monitors talking with a man I could only assume was the director by the way he responded to Steve's questions without hesitation. The room (and I'm seriously not making this up) fell silent. Everyone stared at me and the bailiff on my arm for an awkward moment, and then Steve stood and took a few steps toward me, hand outstretched. The director hefted himself from his tall chair and stuttered, "Oh, ah, Tah-ra, this is Steve. I just wanted you to meet...before." I stepped forward, looked him straight in the eye, and saw the man I've known since I was a kid, for the first time. And.... nothing. No violins, no electric shocks, no confetti or spotlights, no gasps of recognition or secret knowing looks. There he was, just a man, and probably sick to death of the velvet cage he'd been living in for so long that everyone around him treated him like the most expensive fish in the tank.

I'm sad to say that I didn't get my picture taken with Steve Martin. I didn't have a conversation with him about the feeling of performing live. I mentioned to him at one point that I knew a director he had worked with in the 80's, and had I been able to tell the story properly, it might have made for a truthful moment. Instead it came out sounding like a 2nd grader's first attempt at writing a story. And we both smiled awkwardly and went back to work.

A more respectful and kind person you couldn't ask for. He shook my hand several times, always looked me in the eye, called me by name and told me that I did a good job, that he had enjoyed working with me. A true professional and a gentleman. And then he was gone, whisked away in a huge black SUV complete with leather seats and tinted windows. If I ever have the pleasure of working with him again, I feel certain he will greet me like an old friend.

It was a good day - I was working as an actor, which is what I wish I could do more often than 5 or so days a year. Hopefully if all goes well, I will have some excellent footage for my reel, and my mom and dad will be watching me on the big screen this summer for a few seconds, across from a guy that my dad has horribly misquoted all my life. Don't worry, Dad, it is funnier when you do the jokes. But that's probably because I love you.

* In this blog, I called Steve Martin 'Steve' 7 times. To his face, I only called him 'sir'. *

The Latest

2008-04-28T11:40:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, you gotta start where you are. My front yard is in desperate need of watering. So I let the hose drip all day long and just move it from section to section. Its the only thing that seems to work: because of the soil, if I just stand there watering the ground it all just runs down to the sidewalk and makes a puddle. It's very embarrassing that ours is the only dead yard on the block. That's what's been on my mind this morning.

I also got a job at Universal Studios theme park for the summer. I will be working at one of their live shows. The idea is to start looking for other avenues of income separate from waiting tables. The kinds of jobs that might lead to other more adult jobs that do not include restaurant manager in the title. Also the kinds of jobs that maybe happen during the day so I can feel a little more human. I am very excited because its a gig that most of my friends have so it will be a lot like summer camp. Including the sweltering heat and stinky whiny kids part. Wow. I don't sound like I'm thrilled about this new job, but I really am. It's five minutes from the house, and hey, it's a THEME PARK!

I will also keep the waiting tables job because I'm trying to stock the savings. But I'm one step closer to the end of my service career. Whew!

These days I am trying to avoid the heat (100+ in the Valley!!) and I'm working on the hustle. That means I'm tired of playing nice. I'm asking everyone for favors out here, and I'm not shy these days about selling my soul for a decent agent, audition or acting gig. I don't know what changed. But that's what I'm up to these days. Sorry that I haven't been blogging lately. I sure would love to be more insightful and expressive like my friend "Tommy Housworth" or informative and heart-warming like "Nora Lee's mommy Sara" but sometimes you just need to catch up. Alright. Back to the daily. I love you all.

La in L.A.

2008-02-22T13:48:00.000-08:00

Let the fun begin! Next weekend my little sister Laura will be arriving in Los Angeles for a classic SoCal weekend. So of course I want to make it worth her while. I had to figure - she lives in DC, so there's already great museums, great shopping, great monuments and touristy things to do there... And she's been to L.A. before, so the Hollywood Sign hike is not going to cut it. My plan is going to have to be a little more fantastic. So here goes:

Friday, arriving mid-afternoon and grabbing a late LA bite. I'm thinking somewhere with a patio, since the weather is going to be nothing short of GORGEOUS - 70+ degrees with no chance of anything bad. Perhaps we'll lunch at the Ivy, and peep out some stars. Maybe trot down to the Movie wardrobe resale store It's a Wrap. Friday night La will be attending my comedy improv show at ACME, and then we will be grabbing a late Italian dinner next door while hob-nobbing with my improv buddies.

Saturday: Up at the crack of dawn to travel to Big Bear for a day of skiing and snowboarding. We'll spend a day on the slopes, and then head back into town that night for a fancy dinner at the Huntley Hotel on Santa Monica (I happen to know some folks there who will take great care of us).

Sunday: Up at the crack of dawn to head out to Sunset beach for a surf lesson. Mr. Tom of SurfingLA will provide boards and wetsuits, and a little help to get us riding the waves in true SoCal style. And we plan on picking up some cuties with sun-bleached hair to buy us some mojitos at Paradise Cove once we are finished with the waves. Even without the cuties, the mojitos will definitely happen. Laura's day will probably end with a sunset down by Santa Monica pier, before heading back to DC on a red-eye flight. What a trooper!

Happy Nude Year!

2008-01-21T23:22:00.001-08:00

Well, not exactly, but one of my major goals is to be a little happier about the Bod. And so far so good! I've lost about 7 pounds in the past two weeks, by simply following these four rules; No Dairy, No Sugar, No Red Meat, No Alcohol. And I have knocked down my caloric intake quite a bit. And started exercising a little more consistently. OK, there's no magic answer for losing weight, and after two weeks of chopping veggies and hunting down fresh fish, I have already begun to grow a little restless. I tried the pomegranate mousse cheesecake we are offering on the Valentine's Day Menu this weekend. Twice. It was worth it! I just don't know how these really skinny girls do it, and frankly I don't care. I love food. And absence makes the heart grow FRIGGIN' HUNGRY! Great, it's 11:30 at night and I've started thinking about food again. It's funny, this LA mentality has me convinced my weight is something I need to worry about. Back in Atlanta they would be chasing me with buckets of sausage gravy. Oh Wow... Sausage gravy...and hashbrowns. With chicken fried steak and two eggs over medium... STOP! STOP!!

New Traditions

2007-12-02T12:52:00.000-08:00

What you are looking at is a bone-in ham, part of the Trucker's Breakfast at Whiskey Pete's Casino in Primm, Nevada. You are not allowed to order anything referred to as a "trucker's" breakfast, by the way, and then express dismay at the enormous portions that arrive. I don't think any menu has ever been more clear about what you are going to have set down in front of you for the low-low price of $7.95. It's a deal, unless you add in the jug of Tums you will probably want to purchase on the way out.
My best friend Tiffany Morgan and I have discovered a fantastic new family/holiday tradition. Thanksgiving in Vegas. During the cool Fall months, Vegas finds itself in desperate need of cheap folk to take over its otherwise empty luxury hotel suites. Tiffany, her boyfriend Z, several of our pals from Dad's Garage, and I took full advantage of the discount room rates and airline specials - and spent a week tearing up the Strip. Tiff, Z and I stayed at the Mandalay Bay and were given 3-for-2 night rates and complimentary suite upgrades. Or should I say SWEET upgrades. I even coaxed my new boyfriend Chris to come up and check out the fancy amenities for a night. We attended the Price is Right (only fun in groups, as the chances of getting to participate are a bit slim), Penn & Teller (not my cup of tea, but a cool show if you are into magic and/or have an IQ above 160), saw Tiffany appearing in her first feature film, Stephen King's The Mist (of all three shows, easily the best -and cheapest - ticket in town). Everything else we did? Well that stays you-know-where.
My world is becoming simultaneously smaller and larger - smaller because this crazy internet fad keeps me in touch with folks, no matter how far I move away from them; larger because I keep moving so far away and coordinating world travel is such a fuss! So naturally, this evolving society demands evolving rituals. It's not realistic to try and gather everyone around the dinner table to carve a bird the size of my TV. There are too many tables!
What if, while everyone else is fighting last minute traffic and trying to calculate pounds vs. hours of cooking time, what if you were sitting comfortably in the hotel spa having a contest with your best friend over who could use the most clean towels between hot tub soakings and steam room sweatings? And who pays the $27 each for this spa visit? Well, your genius poker playing friend Z, of course, who spent 5 hours at Caeser's Palace the day before, taking money from lesser talented Texas Hold-Em players. Thanksgiving morning, instead of scalloping potatoes, you could be ordering that trucker's breakfast, or the chicken fried steak and eggs (pictured behind ham, above) and playing Pai-Gow while recovering from your persistent Vegas hangover. The pilgrims would have been proud, but better yet - the Native Americans can thank you today!

That was taking it too far, wasn't it?

The Rise and Fall of Tara Ochs

2007-11-09T10:56:00.000-08:00

Last year I shot a small role for an independant film called The Fall. Last week I got to watch a private screening of the movie in Santa Monica, with cast and crew. I played a DA, working a trial of a kid who allegedly killed a priest. I get the feeling, by the way in which I got the job (they just called and offered me the part last minute) - that I was a replacement for someone. Well, I watched the movie, and then I walked out feeling pretty damn good about myself. It's not like I had any major dramatic moments, but I think I did a pretty good job with what I was given. Now you're probably saying to yourself, "it's no surprise, Tara, we know you are a good actor." But the truth is, I've never really seen anything dramatic that I've done and thought, yeah, that was good work. I'm not being modest, I just honestly didn't like what I saw before this weekend. And both the director and casting director were very complimentary.

So I have a little ammo in my pocket now. I feel good about my work, and whenever I start to feel down at an audition or while facing a pile of mailings, I think about that movie.

So I'm going to keep fighting for now. My goals are to keep up my video game review show and find a new theatrical agent ASAP. I will also begin taking casting workshops again and maybe try and create my own improv show. Check back with me in a month to see how much of this I've actually accomplished. I sure could use a new computer...

Videos and More Videos

2007-10-25T17:48:00.000-07:00

Mom, Dad - I wasn't planning on sharing this with you. You won't like the language I use in my latest project, and you will definitely be uncomfortable with my very plunging neckline. So don't click on the link to my new video game review. Or at least, let me explain myself first.

You see, being an actor in LA is hard. They want you to be creative and sort of develop your own career. You can do this by making an ass of yourself on reality TV, or by writing your own movies and producing them, or by being the child of a famous person. So I decided to combine what I do best with what I do all the time, and I have begun to shoot video game reviews. I post them online and that's it. I wait and see. Maybe I keep posting reviews and create a little following, or maybe I just teach myself a little more about what I look like on camera. Or maybe in six months, after countless reviews have been posted, I take all my material and turn it into a real show that I pitch to big heavy tv types. The ones with the money. This could go anywhere or nowhere. I am mostly doing it for fun.

Honestly, it's the thousand monkeys on a thousand typewriters approach. I just keep plugging away until something sticks. So far, this method has kept me in health insurance and a small developing pension. But I have been busy this month, I posted my first review, and I also submitted a 30 second spot to a local radio station contest. I don't know if they got my entry or not, but I think the spot is very funny.

So I'm sorry if you aren't thrilled with the f-bomb I drop. I agree, it's unnecessary, and in the next review I am going to ease up on the heavy language and maybe wear something a little less...boob-y. So you've been warned. At least it's not nudity. Trust me, this could have been a lot worse.

World Domination

2007-10-03T13:56:00.000-07:00

I can't even say that I'm terribly busy right now. Auditions have been slow, I've been avoiding the restaurant. On the other hand, I've been going to the gym a bit more regularly now. And I finished playing my latest fave game, Bioshock. Tomorrow morning I will be shooting my first ever video game review with the help of my gorgeous amazing friend Tania Gonzalez, so stay tuned for the link to that review.

So I guess the only logical reason why I haven't been blogging is probably you. I mean I have had all this time to let you know about my two week vacation to home, New Orleans and Atlanta, but instead I've remained cruelly silent. Its probably what you said the other night when we were watching Dr. Who. Well, if you don't know, then maybe we need some time apart for you to think real hard and remember.

Good. Now that you've said you're sorry, I can tell you about my two weeks of fun.

I surprised my brother in New Orleans for his 30th. My sister flew in from DC and she and I rode with my parents to New Orleans. We partied with Jay all weekend, and then went back to Seminole, AL for some quality time at Mom and Dad's house. My redneck yearning to float down a river in a tire tube was satisfied. As was sitting in a warm summer rain on the dock (see picture).

For the next week I was in Atlanta, performing with the LA team in the World Domination Theatresports Tournament at Dad's Garage. We tied for first place, although between you and me, I think we were a clear second to the rockstars who are Iron Cobra. I'm not being modest. You would quake with fear too if you saw what these freaks can do. But don't envy them. They are unnaturally funny, and will probably have ridiculous success for the rest of their lives that will make them lonely way up on their tower of amazing. Anyway, I had an incredible time playing with my old ATL pals, and I discovered two cool new things: Flip Cup and Whirly Ball. I posted a couple of videos on YouTube of Flip Cup competitions, including the one I linked here. By the way, as I get more into this internet craze, I hope you will join me and do things like comment on my stuff all the time and link my crap to yours. Also if you show me how to link your crap to mine, I'll do that. Still learning.

My Grammy sent me $10

2007-08-08T11:38:00.000-07:00

Which apparently is the going rate for docents in Utica, KS, where the Ochs etc family reunion took place. Grammy hosted 160 of us on the farm, complete with fish fry and go-cart rides to see the cattle. There was a moon bounce (good idea) and valet (bad idea - the boys just sat by the driveway drinking beers and let the cars park themselves).

Every year Grammy puts up 40 Christmas trees in her house, each one decorated in a different theme. I think 30 of them are actually lit, along with thousands of other individual Christmas decorations tucked throughout the house (nativity scenes, etc.) Grammy left the trees up this year, just for the family reunion. So the girl cousins were mostly in charge of giving "tours" of the trees - my tree to show off was the John Ochs tree (my Dad) which had an angel theme. I don't know how many times I heard mom make the joke that it was angels because it took an angel to put up with John. Hilarious, Ma.

My sister and I were both told by the oldest relative there, Helen, that we should have lots of sex. I'm pretty sure she meant with a husband, but I won't be the one to put words in the matriarch's mouth.

We drank a lot of beer and ate a ton of fresh caught fish and pheasant. There were an uncomfortable amount of kids running around, most of them belonging to my immediate cousins. Mom called it the best form of birth control - just seeing my cousins chase after their boys in the hot sun was enough to make me breathe a sigh of relief.

It's strange being at a party that big, drinking that much beer, and knowing that you can't hit on ANYBODY.

Utica is in the northwest corner of Kansas, and its population is about 125, most of whom I'm related to, I think. I haven't been in 17 years, and it was definitely smaller than I remember. Some people go to India for a spiritual check-in. Not me. I showed up Sunday morning to the local Utica (er... Methodist?) church with 60 of my closest kin, which was about three times the normal attendance. And I think I'm doing OK. Just when I think my life is a little too off the beaten path, I can remind myself - I'm an Ochs.

Just look at Great Aunt Helen - now that is a wild woman.

Nobody likes a Quitter

2007-08-07T13:09:00.000-07:00

I was going to gossip about Britney Spears. I was going to tell you all about how she showed up my second to last night at One Sunset and pissed everybody off. She didn't tip (on a free meal!), accused someone of stealing her camera (which was in her car the whole time) and ended up causing all of us to wait an extra hour before we could go home while all the managers ran around trying to keep her happy and away from paparazzi.

I was going to try and explain how I decided to quit when I heard my friend the general manager was quitting.

I've written this entry about three times, and then I hit a wall. Because the truth is, I feel horrible about quitting a job. I put several months and a lot of heart into this restaurant. And then I decided to quit. Without thinking too hard about it. When my friends at the old restaurant, where I still have a job, make comments like, "I bet you're glad you didn't quit Asia de Cuba," I get a little irritated. It's not that simple. I wanted to see One succeed. I wanted my friends to build a place like no other, where money and happiness flow like specialty cocktails. And I'm not stupid for thinking it could have happened. But it didn't, so in a sense, I failed. And then I quit, without even trying to hang in and fight a little longer.

So I'm a bit disoriented. I think I did the right thing. I am no longer working at a place where I have to stay 9 hours and shout at the top of my lungs while shoving past drunken dancers not spending any money. I'm no longer taking the chance that on any given night I might walk with less than a hundred bucks, having completely wasted my time. ADC is more consistent, and I can work whenever I need to.

So that's it. Back to the routine, the status quo returns. I can't say I'm sad, just winded. And glad to have more of my nights free again. That much is definitely an improvement.

The night I decided to quit One, a lot of crazy things happened. But my friend Brendan mentioned something that I think may be the reason I don't want to elaborate. He said that whenever possible, it's always best to leave with your dignity. So I'll let the gossip alone. You never know who's reading...

Buzz-Worthy

2007-06-30T13:25:00.001-07:00

Well I knew it was coming, I just didn't really want to think about it too much, you know?

So I told you I took this journalism class and it was turning out to be fairly challenging, so for my final project (we can write a story on anything! GULP) I decided to make my life a little easier and write about something to which I had inside access - the opening of ONE Sunset, where I am now waiting tables. At the time, we were in the middle of four weeks of training, and I was having fun playing intrepid reporter, interviewing the management and hunting down pre-opening gossip and publicity. I also read up on a few other restaurants in town, ones that might be similar to what we were trying to do.

Throughout my research, I grew slowly more and more uneasy - not everyone involved in this new venture was on the same page, or even reading the same book.

There were two schools of thought.

1) The Altruists - my friends in management and the chef. The folks who asked me to come work with them, and for whom I'd do just about anything. They have this vision of a really fantastic place to dine. For them ONE would be incredible food and drinks, great music in a chill, laid-back but still classy atmosphere. Basically Cinderella after the Ball - she's got money and taste, but she still remembers her roots as a scullery maid. The kind of place where my tables drop lots of dough and realize that every dime was worth it. Here's your 25% in cash, Tara, you were the best server we've ever had.

No Paris Hilton/Lindsay Lohan-table, surrounded by drunk hangers-on ordering bottle service so they can watch the stars and party in the A-list clubs. We swear you haven't been hired to be a cocktail waitress.

2) The Money People - Ah ha. Yes, I read about New York's ONE (Little West 12th), and how the party gets going at midnight and stays open till 4am. How more booze flows than food. How, cleverly, some one in marketing realized that if you could get the celebrities to party in the back, then you could fill the rest of your tables with looky-loos, at $430 a bottle, minimum purchase required. And if people want one of those tables, well then they have to buy dinner first - come early, stay late, and SPEND.

There are plenty of places like it in L.A. already. They flare up and burn out within about six months. The latest place is Parc, previously Black Steel, and down the street is Le Deux. Celebrities, money, ropes at the door, guest lists, bottle service. I read about all these places, and then I listened to our management talk about class and fine food. And then I looked around at the restaurant, with its DJ booth in the center next to the giant bar, the cozy VIP tables in the back on a slightly raised floor, the varnished dark wood banquettes that switched to cocktail tables like transformers - more than meets the eye! It all seemed slightly contradictory.

Last week at our opening party, Jennifer Aniston and Demi Moore showed up (with Ashton in tow). And CAA hosted the crowd, who were all in all very respectful, enjoying the food and promotional cocktails, quieting down for the guest speaker (celebrity psychic Laura Day) and then calmly shuffling out around 10:30. It was a Tuesday night, after all. It all seemed promising.

So last night, Friday, I show up for my first shift since the party. Gather round servers, and hear us well - we said we wouldn't be offering bottle service reservations, and that is now changing.

Flash forward to me squeezing between drunken women dancing on the furniture at 11:30 while I try to bring another round of shots to an anonymous rock band after being at work for 8 hours already. There's Masi Oka at a banquette in the other half of my section, and it crosses my mind so predictably to wish he really could feeze time. One enthusiastic dancer manages to knock over an entire wine bucket filled with ice water. The manager asks - "Do you want to make a lot of money?" as she seats two tables for bottles of Grey Goose in my section. Do I have a choice? I was scheduled at 3:30pm (to polish glasses for two hours??) and my first table was at 8!

But the music was really good (Smiths mixed in to Polyphonic Spree!!), and I was having fun, mostly. I also didn't leave the restaurant till after 2am. Did I make a ton of money? Um... not really. I made about maybe $70 more than I would have made at Asia de Cuba (where I also work). But I also worked about 3 more hours.

So when does the classy crowd show up? I think my friends the Altruists are asking the same thing. Guess we should have seen it coming... Hey, the LA Times called us "Buzz-Worthy."

Moving Home

2007-06-27T16:40:00.000-07:00

I think about it often - being closer to the family, maybe back in Atlanta where I would be closer to Chita and Z, Stanton and Bode, theaters where I wouldn't have to pay to improvise and the crowds would actually be crowds. The grass is always greener, right? What exactly would it take, what would it mean for me and my life here?

Logistically I would have to give up the apartment and probably the furniture, maybe even the car (!). No sense dragging all that back east, just sell it and re-buy once I know where I'm going.

I've got money saved, so I could stand to be without a job for a few months, plus there's plenty of places to stay - I could go hang with the 'rents for a while, then head up to ATL and stay with the Chita. I could probably find a place to live easily enough. As for out here? Quit the restaurants, say au revoir to the commercial agent... Not much that's got me tied up here - it's not like I own property (damn) or have a kid that really likes the school he's in right now (phew).

So what do I do once I get there? Guess the possibilities are somewhat limited, since acting isn't even as viable there as it is here. I could find another restaurant, or I could get a fast track teaching degree. Maybe I could pursue that journalism bug and get an internship at the AJC. In a way, leaving town might mentally open up a few more paths for me.

Or maybe I just like trying these thoughts on every now and then, like that dress from the '70s that mom handed down to me and that barely fits. The same kind of bug that drove me to acting in the first place - the urge to be something else constantly, completely change my M.O. - like an undercover cop.

Oooo. Undercover cop. I could do that.

There's also a part of me that likes the option to run away. Guess that's why I'm perpetually single. Don't like responsibilities and obligations. I like to have the choice to leave town at a moment's notice - that's what's nice about working at a restaurant - you can always get your shifts covered. At the very least, to indulge my escapism, I plan to go visit Atlanta in August. While I'm there, who knows, maybe I'll find a reason to stay. I do miss my Chita.

Or maybe its just my bi-annual restlessness.

The Long Way Around

2007-06-21T11:37:00.000-07:00

I picture it like this: you see, far off in the distance, a shining beacon of happiness. It is your success, it is your dreams, it's what you pictured your life would be when you started picturing that kind of stuff, way back when. And you see exactly where that beacon is, gleaming on the horizon. And you pivot, 180 degrees, and you start walking confidently in the opposite direction.

I have started work at a SECOND restaurant. I do not want to be a waitress for the rest of my life. Right now, I'm already bordering on "too old" for this job. But it is a terribly easy way to feed my habit of "waiting around for the next audition." Or more truthfully, trying to figure out what's next. I am certain, however, that what's next ideally does not include waiting on more tables. And yet, here I am, now working at two restaurants, and feeling the furthest away from an acting career that I ever have.

Why would I do this? Well, it kind of just happened. I have a very dear friend who is opening up a new place, and I thought, more money, new experiences. And it is - it's a beautiful restaurant called One Sunset with a fantastic chef and great management and most likely a celebrity clientele. At the opening night party Tuesday night, Jennifer Aniston and Demi Moore (with Ashton Kutcher) were there. Of course, they promised to be there for promotional purposes. But it seems like at least for the summer, One will be a pretty busy/popular restaurant, and I will be there on the weekends serving it up.

So I will stick it out for a few months, and decide which place eats less of my soul. In the meantime, feel free to come visit me at yet another high-end restaurant on the Sunset Strip. I'll buy you a free dessert and cocktail - that should keep your bill closer to $50 a person. If you don't mind tap water and beer. And chicken instead of oysters. Oh - we also serve chicken oysters. Seriously. Chicken Oysters Rockefeller. It's good. From what I hear.

What's this? What's this?

2007-05-14T11:46:00.000-07:00

I feel a little like Jack Skellington when he discovered Christmas Town. I've just finished a homework assignment for my latest UCLA Extension course, Fundamentals of Reporting. I was going to describe it as "simple," but that would be a gross exaggeration - if you had seen me on Thursday night when we received the assignment, you would have thought someone handed me the head of my dead cat. Well, maybe YOU wouldn't have thought that, but trust me, I was ill. We were assigned to do a mini-profile on our teacher. It involved ten minutes of classtime to research on the internet, and 15 minutes of interviewing the teacher, all culminating in a 250-word paper to be written the last 30 minutes of class. Luckily the teacher had mercy on us and let us take the assignment home for the weekend. Papers could be e-mailed to him this morning. So, true to form, I woke up this "morning" at ten and proceeded to finish my paper. I figured I had two hours left of the morning, and in truth, it only took me one. That's because (and here's the point, my friends) I laid in bed for an hour thinking about what I wanted to write. And then I jumped out of bed and went straight downstairs to the laptop to get started. I practically ignored my roommate Ryan as I feverishly typed and researched and flipped through the online thesaurus. In short, I was MOTIVATED. Weird... My experience has been that writing, for me, is like going to Six Flags: about once a year I get really excited and go, and afterwards I am always nauseous and exhausted, swearing I will never go again. Except that, unlike roller-coaster driven theme parks, writing seems to be growing on me.
So I dove into this assignment this morning, and afterwards I felt a swell of pride as I re-read it... fifteen times. It's the actor's equivalent of staring in a mirror to practice your lines, I suppose. I had been planning to head upstairs to my new gameroom to reward myself with a little Rogue Galaxy before lunch. But I didn't go, instead I decided to write some more. On my blog, but still - perhaps you see where I'm going with this. My little tortured actor's soul is starting to really enjoy the writing thing. STARTING. Don't get too excited, OK? I might revert tomorrow. We'll see. For now, I'm Jack and it's Christmas. Ho ho ho.

The Dharma Initiative

2007-05-04T12:51:00.000-07:00

Isn't Lost just so good? I never thought of myself as a person that has "shows" they watch, but I have been a faithful Lost fan since the beginning, and strangely, it makes me proud. I feel like I belong to something, and that I'm invested. No longer one who fears commitment, I! The downside, I suppose, to being a fan, is that you do dumb things like I did with this guy pictured above. If you are a Lost fan, you'll know, first of all, that the man in the picture with me is Dr. Candle, a somewhat mysterious character who has maybe appeared in five episodes. For about three minutes total screen time. And I, shamefully, recognized him, and worse, insisted that I get my picture taken with him. And when I say shameful, I mean REALLY shameful. I was on the set of a commercial that we had both been cast in, so as a fellow actor I should have known better than to stalk him like a tourist on the Map-of-the-Stars'-Homes Tour. But I did, because I am a fan. And now I am posting the pic on my blog. The gentleman's real name, by the way, is François Chau, and he is quite a good sport, although he knows very little about the outcome of the show, or for that matter about his character's storyline. But he does get to go to Hawaii every once in awhile, and he does get recognized more often than you'd think.

As for the commercial shoot, that's a cool story, too. I booked a job (I think I mentioned a few blogs back) for Direct Energy, and they liked me so much, they brought me back for another campaign, this one for three 60-second spots. It took three days to shoot, and I played the part of a sexy/nerdy tech who is a member of an A-Team of Direct Energy technicians who make sure your home (in Canada) is energy-efficient, eh? The director, Ted, is one of the coolest guys you'll ever meet, and he shot the whole thing just like an old A-Team episode. We even had a Mr.T type on the team, and our van was tricked out with flames and a tailfin. In some shots, Ted would play the A-Team theme song while we did our "take" to camera. That damn song is still in my head. Our leader on the team was this fantastic guy who's been acting for ages, John Kapelos, who you'll know as the janitor from The Breakfast Club. It was a star-studded shoot, let me tell you. That's four (count 'em) commercials shot in April, none of which you are likely to see. But I'll see the checks, baby, and that's what matters.

Guess it runs in the family

2007-05-01T11:51:00.000-07:00

...not knowing what to do with your life. Or maybe procrastinating by way of taking college courses. I'm referring to an article that my sister drew my attention to this past week. Nola Ochs attends Fort Hays State University (where my dad got his undergrad degree) at the ripe young age of 95. We don't know for sure if she's related, but the Kansas Ochs are widespread, so its most likely she's connected somehow. When she finally graduates from school, she will be the oldest person to have earned a degree. Click the link of her name for the full story. The point is, we Ochs just don't seem to be able to settle down and pick a damn career. I can't be blamed for constantly threatening to quit acting, when it's actually IN MY BLOOD to remain undecided. My sister frequently calls me with doubts, Jay took 3 years to pick a major, and my mother went back to school after having three kids! It's just in my DNA, you see, to go back to school and pick a new career. As often as I like. Nola, by the way, is studying history. Which I find joyfully ironic. We Ochs love easy A's.

So, I have until I'm 90, you see, to make up my mind about what I want to do with my life. Plenty of time. Plenty of time. Another thing about us Ochs - we live FOREVER.

Don't Buy Star Wars Lego 2 for the DS

2007-04-11T11:58:00.000-07:00

It has to be posted somewhere. I am appalled at the nerve of Lucas Arts, Amaze Ent, Nintendo, etc etc for releasing this mockery. First off, I bought SWLego2 for the PS2 for my brother this past Christmas, and he practically crapped himself with joy. I was officially declared best gift giver EVER. I played SWL2 on my roommates PSP and had to lock the door to keep him from taking it away from me. Until I couldn't watch the screen anymore through all the drool. What a brilliant game - hilarious, fun, nostalgic... Good personalized platforming fun. And so when I saw the DS version sitting proudly on the shelves, cleverly disguising itself as the exact same game, I bit. I practically knocked over an 8-year-old debating the Pokemon releases to get my copy. FORTY dollars that is so GONE now, that I would have rather mailed it to my cellphone company. I should have bought 4 tickets to Bridge to Terabithia. It would have been a better way to spend my cash.

This game is a textbook example of the things that can go wrong when repackaging games for different consoles. It's clear after a few minutes that the power of the DS was so minimal that most of the gameplay had to be drastically trimmed down. No more funny jokes like a pair of stormtroopers bathing in a hottub. All I got was one lousy rebel taking a pee in the Hoth station, and he didn't even react when I shot him while his Lego pants were down, except to shake his head disdainfully. Which is what I now do to Lucas Arts. Shame, Shame, Shame. The graphics engine is ABYSMAL. My characters and other objects are constantly disappearing. The camera gets stuck behind walls, the puzzles have been stripped down to the most mundane tasks, and I have had to restart levels a number of times because of glitches like moronic AI getting "caught" in repetitive regeneration. The second screen is practically useless, except for switching characters, which I do on a regular basis to fix glitches. I LOVE Star Wars AND Legos, so naturally I fought with all my heart to like this game. I trudged through Chapters 4 and 5, but by the time I got to 6, I couldn't take it anymore. I am offended, and I want my money back. I want my hours back, too. By my calculation, Lucas Arts and company owe me about $167.32. Please do me a favor and don't buy this crap.

And another thing

2007-04-10T11:11:00.000-07:00

There's a pile of stories on the floor next to my blog that need to be folded and put away. I can't even face this blog until I get through that pile, and frankly, I haven't had the willpower to relive some of those events with anything other than a whiny recounting. Can you understand what I mean? I'll give you the laundry list, and then you'll get where I'm coming from. OK, let's see - when was the last time I blogged? Hang on, I'll go check, even I've forgotten at this point...

Oh yeah! HA. That's funny. I was talking about positive thinking. So then: My Diet Coke commercial aired with me thankfully recognizable - you've probably seen me if you watch American Idol. I'm the one they refuse to vote off. Just kidding. And then, let's see - my car got broken into, the window shattered, the top ripped (it's a convertible), and my wallet with all my cards, makeup, and clothes were in the bag that was taken. PS - If you are ever on the receiving end of a story about a car break-in, PLEASE do EVERYTHING in your power to resist asking "why the person left their bag on the seat." This is, in my book, the MOST ignorant thing anyone can say, short of blatant racism or jokes about suicide. Even if you say it while hugging the person and/or laughing, SERIOUSLY, if you learn nothing else from my blog: DO NOT make a comment about leaving a bag/purse/anything on a car seat.

You see what I'm saying about laundry? Anyway, that break-in was 2 days before my birthday, which was made awesome by my stellar roommates. And then I spent a week home in Pensacola celebrating my Dad's 60th birthday and retirement. After that I started performing in a new show at ACME created by the Overdroid which is called Cartoon Overlord and is really hard to do but fun. It happens on Sundays. And I booked another commercial, this one for Direct Energy (a regional spot which will air in Texas). The booking is especially notable because it is my first with my new commercial agent which makes them and me both breathe a sigh of relief.

Each of these events/updates deserves its own blog. But I'm afraid I may never blog again if I try to catch up with all of that. Besides, I feel like I've told that damn break-in story enough times already to fill a bible. So there's the brief catch-up. I'm sorry I haven't been more forthcoming with the blogs. Hopefully we can get back on track now, you and me.

One other thing I'm realizing as I read this, it seems like I've been very busy, but truly what's filled up most of my time is none of these things. Which makes me think, if I really put my mind to it, I could be a robot. A very productive robot. Hmm.

The Secret

2007-02-24T10:16:00.000-08:00

It's a little creepy, how such a cheesy DVD can happen to be watched at just the moment before things start going really well in your life. The video is called THE SECRET, and it's this positive-thinking self-help type video that Oprah got us all to watch recently. It plays like it's been directed by whoever ruined the Da Vinci Code movie. The Secret, by the way, is to think positively and visualize what you want as if you already had it. Apparently they didn't apply their own secret to visualizing some better editing and effects, but they aren't completely crazy. I watched the DVD last weekend, and now I am having the awesomest week I've had in a while. Maybe its coincidence, but I won't be the one to say it.

My friend Tiffany, after watching The Secret, booked 3 weeks on a Stephen King movie, OUT OF ATLANTA. Anni watched it and now gets to park in the best spots wherever she goes. She's also working on visualizing a house for herself. I watched it, and within this one week, I stumbled upon a friend who wants to help me make my fleeting idea of combining my gaming, writing and acting talents into a viable commodity. (Sorry I can't be more specific, but if it all happens the way I'm visualizing, trust me you'll be the first to know exactly what I'm up to!) Also this week, I met and signed with a great new commercial agency - Coast to Coast. AND my journalism teacher? Get this: at the beginning of class this week, he calls me out in front of everyone to tell me I'm "ready for the papers", a great writer, and he would write me a referral to any paper "Right NOW." Seriously, this stuff is for REAL. And there's more, that's just some of the rockin' stuff that has made me realize...maybe...just MAYBE... there's something to all this corny hippy California feel-good voodoo. MAYBE. Check it out for yourself. Supposedly you can watch the whole video on You Tube. Someday soon you'll be able to see the future on You Tube as well. I won't be surprised.

Thanks for the really kind emails/comments after my last post. I guess I'm a little more transparent than I originally thought. You all know me too well. That's it! No more painfully soul-searching posts. It's all Video Game reviews from now on!! HA HA! You'll never hear my cry for support through a scathing review of the latest God of War release! ("Kratos should just give up... Why even bother fighting those big bossess? He's just going to find that the world doesn't appreciate him and no matter how many dungeons he clears, he'll never clear the dungeon that is his soul... I give this game 4 lonely sobs.")

Seeking Representation

2007-02-13T10:04:00.001-08:00

I was all ready to give my agent hell. There are some who would characterize me as a bit of a push-over, a doormat, perhaps a martyr, but I was about to prove them all wrong. You see, I know a last straw when I see one. Its yellow, and... dry.

I got a call from a casting person who we'll just call Lynne, saying my agent had "f***ed up." I had been requested for a commercial audition and my agent had never gotten the message, much less passed the message on to me. Lynne strongly inferred that, had I been there, I would have had a job. It was the bittersweet end of a long chapter of missed calls, disorganization, unavailability, and general laziness on the part of my agent. Sadly, I wasn't surprised. Lynne referred me to a new commercial agent, and I was on the phone with them the same day, scheduling an interview.

The only thing left to do was confront my agency. Here's the problem with that. My agency also represents me theatrically. So if I cut them loose commercially, which is where I make all my money currently, then I lose them theatrically as well. Theatrical jobs are anything and everything that will impress your friends and family, from movies to television. Commercial agents are fairly easy to land, depending on how many sheep you want to share the fold with, and with my resume, I'm not worried. The theatrical agent? Not so much. Was all this drama worth losing my theatrical representation? Well, yes. Time to set the SS Tara out to sea, and find out what kind of waters she can handle.

So I got my agent on the phone and waited patiently for the excuse. It would be like a pebble to this stone giant. My agent began: "I'm sincerely sorry about what happened yesterday, but the truth is -

I don't want to do this anymore."

OK, so maybe it was David's pebble, in a fairly unexpected slingshot. She went on to tell me that the office is shutting down, the money's not there, neither is the passion and nobody is capable enough to take over the reigns. (Does this sound familiar? My therapist would nod smugly right now, had I not stopped seeing her because she cost money I'd rather spend on shoes). My agent would help me find other representation, but it was end of the rails for this train.

So here I am, set adrift. A free agent without an Agent. I feel a bit like Custer, maybe. So I'm probably not gonna die, but there is this feeling that if I can't find new representation, maybe its time to move on. I've always been big on signs from above, (asking for them, misinterpreting them, failing to apply them to the bigger picture). This is a turning point for me. Either I will find the right agent and so will begin the history of a successful actor, or maybe I just needed someone to take off the golden handcuffs and put me in a position of nothing-to-lose.

My life has felt like a holding pattern recently. Now I really am cut loose. No boyfriend, no agent, no debt, and I'm caught up on the Heroes episodes. Now what?

I Hate Homework

2007-02-06T11:51:00.000-08:00

LOS ANGELES, Ca - A 30-year old Burbank woman was astounded to discover this week that UCLA Extension courses require attendees to "learn stuff", a roommate reported. "I shoulda taken that wine-tasting course instead," Tara Ochs muttered, as she begrudgingly logged off her MySpace page and began an assignment due tomorrow.

UCLA Extension course "Basic Skills in Writing for the News Media" is offered every semester at UCLA, and is a pre-requisite to obtaining a Journalism Certificate through the highly respected university. It's title is "misleading" though, complains the Burbank resident. "News Media could be anything," insists Ochs, "from fashion magazines to entertainment industry broadcasts."

Ochs, who is only enrolled in the single once-a-week Winter semester course, has expressed interest in a career change, specifically in the field of Video Game Journalism, said a long-time friend. Her penchant for playing console-based RPGs was also noted by her roommate, Ryan Smith.

But the UCLA course is no tutorial mode for impulsive career-hoppers, and it does not lend itself to a gifted imagination. "This course is not for writers with a capital W," warns the professor of the Basic Skills course. A career in journalism is a low-paying, thankless job which requires self-motivation and a great deal of reporting skills, according to Professor Gougis.

Which is not what the former-actor Ochs wants to hear. "Why do I continue to flush out career paths like this? Acting, video games, journalism? Where's the driving urge to be a lawyer or an engineer?" Ochs' parents have also been asking their daughter similar questions.

Tara Ochs is still enrolled at UCLA, as of press time.

You Told Me So

2007-01-19T17:30:00.000-08:00

..or I'm wrong, you're right. In a blind taste test, I would recognize the flavor of my foot 9 times out of 10. Tastes like humility with a dash of that powder I use to prevent blisters during long runs. Now you probably want to know what has earned you this recognition.

I shot a Diet Coke commercial yesterday. Ah.. its all coming back to you now. That's right...

Last Friday I had an audition for a Diet Coke commercial. Auditions have been picking up lately, which is both good and bad. Because I am still stuck working all day shifts at Asia de Cuba (a WHOLE 'nother blog), each day brings the fear that shift and audition will conflict. Today they did and I missed an audition for Lowe's. PISSED. Anyway, I go to this audition last week for Diet Coke, and all they want me to do is: have a conversation with the girl across from you while drinking your Diet Coke (blech). Then, Finish your drink. Then, try to take a sip from your empty glass, notice its empty, and give that signature Tara-smirk. Easy, right? Sigh... Wrong.

Take 1: Don't ask me why I do this, but when they say Action, I take the can of coke nearby and add more to the glass!! I DON'T KNOW WHY!! Stop asking!! I just did it, which as we all know, means it took more sips to finish that baby. CUT!

Take 2: Less coke this time, and no creative urge over-taking me, I go to chug down the soda in one brave gulp... except I take a huge chunk of ice with me, which in awkward close-up, I now have to SPIT back into the cup. Charming, no?

No. The rest of the day I spent bending the ear of anyone who would listen, complaining that my career was a joke, that I couldn't even drink a coke on cue. I was miserable. Mom heard about it, Shane, Nic... The entire cast of my weekly improv show "PD!".

Callback. No cans or chunks of ice nearby. Booking. Searching for recipes for low-fat humble pie.

Yes, the worst audition is the one you book. Thanks, for making my career choice even more enigmatic. The shoot went fine. I felt a bit like a can of coke, myself. Obviously we all know who is the star of this spot. They shot the back of my shoulder and hand, reaching for an empty can. No drinking for yours truly (thank God). The word on the set is that the spot will air during the Academy Awards. Let's hope I'm still in it when that happens.

And yes, you won't hear me complaining about another audition for at least a week. I couldn't bear your signature smirks.

Back to School

2007-01-10T21:37:00.000-08:00

I used to have a re-ocurring dream where I would be starting a new semester at college, except that for some reason I couldn't remember when or where any of my classes were. Apparently I had signed up for a full load, but not written a thing down. If you ever see my college planner, you'll know this is a VERY likely scenario. After a sleepless night of running around my nightmare campus, I would wake up and wonder how I went through three years of FSU without this exact situation ever happening once.

That familiar lump in my stomach has taken up residence again as I apply for a single extension course at UCLA. I'm going to be taking an evening class, Basic Skills in Writing for the News Media. Or is it News Media Skills of Basic Writing? Which is more correct? Or Correct-er? Should I be double-spacing after each sentence? Will I walk into a classroom full of twenty-year-olds laughing at me for showing up without my pants on? As I write this, the UCLA webpage has informed me I must wait 24 hours before I can know if I'm enrolled in the class! I'm a ball of nerves and I haven't even bought my textbook yet... Oh no. I have to go to the campus bookstore. I'm too old to be in a campus bookstore. They'll think I'm an Alum, looking for logo sweats. Who is UCLA anyway? The Trojans? No, crap, that's USC.

What I find most amusing is that through all of this, as I try to talk myself down "off the ledge" with sensible worse-case scenario lectures, I realize: I'm not afraid of wasting $300. No. What scares me more than that is the thought of failing this class. I could live with wasting a few Wednesday nights learning that I don't give a crap about non-fiction. As long as I get an "A".

Lucky 07

2007-01-03T21:27:00.000-08:00

Its lucky 7, its the year of James Bond (007, duh). Oh my God, its already 2007. How did this happen? I moved to LA in '01. I'm feeling so overwhelmed I can barely decide what to write in this blog. I felt like I needed to communicate with all of you - after all, two major holidays have just passed. But all I've been doing is working at the restaurant again and trying to figure out how to audition, earn money, do shows and take classes at night, all while not going insane. I certainly can't buy a new gaming system for myself, not right now. I just finished Kingdom Hearts 2, and I'm experiencing that usual post-game disorientation. I wander around the house, unsure of what a normal person does with minutes and hours. I stuff some of them into my new book, Eldest (its the follow-up to Eragon - DONT GO SEE THIS MOVIE!!!). The house is relatively clean, I suppose I could do a load of laundry. I've even found time to start running again. But with this new year upon me, I suppose I ought to be stablishing more lofty goals. I've picked out a Journalism class at UCLA that I think I will take, and that's about the extent of my resolutions to date. I'm afraid I can't offer you much of anything insightful or inspiring these days. I'm sorry. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Under 5 BABY!!

2006-12-12T21:21:00.000-08:00

Well, the results are in, and yours truly brought it in under 5!! OH yeah!

This weekend, after 6 months of training, Team Burbank descended on the City of Sin to achieve the impressive - finishing a marathon. Or half a marathon if you're nasty. The New Las Vegas marathon, at 26.2 miles, is quite an event. We started at 6am and ran down the entire Vegas strip, past the seedy wedding chapels where several marathon couples got married while being witnessed by Running Elvises. Kept chugging along into Downtown, where the slots still take coins and give 'em back if you're lucky, and then off into the low-rent industrial side of town where the 8 mph winds tried to slow us down. But this baby wasn't about to back down. My goal was to beat my old time, 5:17:15, but I never dreamed I would actually be able to bring it in under 5 hours until after the halfway point when I realized I had time to spare. I averaged 11 minute miles THE WHOLE WAY. Except for the 12th mile which took me a little longer thanks to my hobo squat in the bushes. But even that didn't slow me down much, I even had to stop myself from running back onto the course while pulling up my pants. My mom and dad came to watch me, and said I looked bulletproof when I crossed the finish line. I felt bulletproof. I don't know if I'll ever do another marathon - it's HELL on your body. But man, there are some seriously inspiring moments in an event like this. A guy in a wheelchair who walks the last 200m with a walker. The cancer patient who reminded me as she crossed the finish line that there are much harder battles being fought everyday. It made me marvel at the decision to put yourself through such a trial. There's no real reason to accomplish such a feat, and yet thousands of people chose to do it, and did so sometimes at great cost. My friend Anni, another member of Team Burbank, also finished the full marathon, and sits at home as we speak soaking the socks off of her bloodied feet. In spite of the fact that she sustained an injury at mile 16, she fought it out to the finish walking the rest of the way (see pic). Maybe we do it just for the chance to be inspired.

Maybe you never truly learn something until you live it. In the Honolulu marathon I found out that when your body feels fear or doubt, it will use your subconcious to manipulate your behavior. For example, when my body wanted to quit, I started hearing voices in my head telling me I was a bad actor. That I was a failure. Usually when I start having thoughts like these, I get sad, and I GO TAKE A NAP... Ah HA! Caught you in the act, subconcious! You'll never fool me again with your tricks. This time, I found the truth behind the concept of mind over body. I see now where someone's willpower can actually sustain them beyond reasonable limits. It's the type of power that can make a father survive in the snow for so many days in order to try and save his family. My limits weren't tested quite so far, but I certainly saw the potential. Even as everything in my body told me it was time to walk, I kept running. On pure willpower. My quads have been reminding me of my tyrannical method ever since. Its times like these when I question the need for stairs.

At the point at which I realized that I was on pace to make it in under 5 hours, I started writing this blog in my head. I started imagining all the hugs and high-5s. I got a little choked up thinking about how proud my Dad would be that he won the bet he had with my mom. I'm still choked up. Maybe a marathon isn't THAT hard on my body. Maybe I'll do just one more. Perhaps I'll run the Great Wall of China. Of course I have to get out of this chair first. OUCH...

Dutch Ovens

2006-12-06T22:29:00.000-08:00

Have you ever farted in a crowded department store? OK, wait, I have to remember my audience...

You know when you fart in a crowded department store, and then dash off to some remote location where a person would stand who couldn't possibly be responsible for the impending chaos? Do you wait a moment and then return to the scene of the crime to see if the damage was as serious as you imagined?

Thats kind of how I feel about my last post. Now, don't think I'm backing down from my latest scheme - I do intend to pursue a path of writing, although I don't know how much longer my enthusiasm will fuel the ship. It's just that I was feeling a bit heady when I most recently blogged, and you can't imagine how shy I feel now. I haven't been back to this blog in... what, a few weeks? I didn't even read the kindest comments from Tommy and Laura until tonight. (PS, Tommy, the answer is a resounding Yes). I was planning on writing a blog about how excited I am to be flying off to Vegas for the marathon in a few days, and then I remembered: oh yeah, I farted here. And people know about it. They are even trying to pretend like my idea doesn't stink.

I've heard that a good rule to follow when you are trying to quit smoking is to tell everyone that you're quitting. Makes you more responsible to your commitment. You should have heard the number of friends I told at Thanksgiving - hey, I'm going to pursue a writing career. And they all smiled and patted me on the back: "Great idea, Tara." I have very supportive, terse friends. Unfortunately they also have good memories. Between this blog and Thanksgiving, I guess I'd better at least give writing a try. So why does it feel like I can't form a sentence? Suddenly its painfully obvious to me that I can't type, I am obssesed with commas, and I'm not an alcoholic. So, crap, I've got a lot of work to do.

I guess this rambling post was just a series of observations on a new adventure. I would also like to state for the record that I always thought the writer in the family was my sister, and I still do. In conclusion, I would like to restate my thesis in the context of the bigger picture of life: I think farts are hilarious and worth writing about.

Who Told You That You Could...

2006-11-16T14:44:00.000-08:00

One sunny morning back in... let's say '99, I was singing a merry tune to myself as I stepped out of my one bedroom in Atlanta. With ironic timing only the universe can manufacture, my landlord Tzafi was standing right there (trimming bushes?) and shaking his head at me. I blushed, and then recovered with a charming "I should be a singer, don't you think, Tzafi?" He countered, with the practicality inherent in the self-made immigrant, "You should be Something..."

Here's a question that haunts me frequently these days, and used to be my pre-recorded punchline to a bad performance: "What makes you think you can be a ________?" Usually the blank was filled with the word 'actor', with an occasional improvisor, or politician, as the situation required. It was a recognition of the power of people to influence each other in major life decisions: Your mother came to every play you were in, so you became an actor. Or everyone at your frathouse told you that you were the funniest guy there, so you got into stand-up. Maybe you, at the maleable age of 15, received a "Best Supporting Actress" award at the District Thespian Festival for your disturbingly acurate portrayal of an 85 year-old crone with murderous intent. I can literally see my head turning as they called my name, my paradigm shifting like the Round-Up at the county fair. REALLY? You all love me? You really do?? And so the path is set.

Who told you that you should BE an actor? Which of your myriad of childhood experiences caused you to decide that you LOVED the color green, that Alabama was the best Football team, that Beck was better than Weezer? These choices aren't stamped on our DNA, they are forced upon us, seemingly at leisure, by those whose approval we desire most - and don't even try and deny it, oh you of the Indy Rock Scene. Somewhere back in time some blue-eyed devil who never spoke to you at lunch suddenly stopped you in the hallway to compliment your Kiss lunchbox. And so rock was born.

And at 30, I'm paying a head-shrinker to help me decide what I want to do, what I Should BE, as defined by my own personal desires, and under the influence of no mother, priest, boyfriend or TV personality. I had no idea I knew so little about myself! I thought, because I was told I was a good actor, that I should BE an actor. That it was predestined, somehow. Of course I love the stage, of course I love making people laugh. Who doesn't? And yes, I'm good at it. But the career is more than that. They didn't mention that when they handed me the award. No one said that in order to keep the trophy I would have to write my own play next time, and find the sponsers to finance the production, generate my own PR and fill those seats every night for two months with paying customers. Then, do it again. And again. Oh wow... You mean I'm the arbiter of my own destiny? Crap.

And so Huck pushes the raft into the river - or better yet, tells Jim to do it for him. I've been told I'm a good writer. So I've begun to peer into some new corners, and see what I can do with this skill. One mantle removed, another donned. Funny how the neck aches in the same places. Maybe I'll never really know what I want to do. Because maybe you don't always want to do much of anything. Excpet of course for getting back to Kingdom Hearts 2. Now there's a hint...

Cheaters never win

2006-11-13T20:33:00.000-08:00

Except if they are secretly playing Champions of Norrath without their roommate who specifically bought the game so we could play it TOGETHER. Two-player hack-and-slash glory at its finest, courtesy of the Everquest crew, who are systematically turning all losers into bigger losers. Maybe the new word should be Gainers. Hah, yes, thats what I'm going to call losers from now on - Gainers - which will be hilarious when they don't know that I'm insulting them. A perfect example of just how funny this situation can be is the new movie Borat, which if you haven't seen it yet, simply means you're over 35 or under 12. But I digress. Which is the result of countless hours of hacking and slashing orcs, vamps and anyone else who comes at me with a sword, mace, bow-and-arrow, or magic. My mind is melting so steadily that I actually will attack my own summoned skeleton on occasion, and have given him a name with which I address him when he so cleverly fools me: his name is Skelly. "Damnit, Skelly, I thought you were a bad-guy. Seriously, quit running at me and do some damage for a change."
So, my roomie Ryan and I played this game together about a year or so ago and logged, well, let's just say "many" hours before we hit a Boffo of a glitch and had to quit the game altogether or RESTART. It was like... It was like... that one time you get food poisoning from your favorite sushi restaurant, and everyday after, you drive past, simultaneously drooling and cursing (which is VERY attractive, I imagine). We just couldn't see ourselves starting over, Ryan sold the game back, the pain was just too... Flash forward to Ryan's new girlfriend moving in, and in what I judged to be a subtle act of contrition Ryan buys the game (Champions of Norrath, are you still with me?) and we agree it is time to try again. Except for one problem most Gainers don't have - Ryan has a JOB. Weird... So in my impatience to wait for those golden hours when Ryan isn't working or hangin with his total fox of a lady, I started playing by myself. It was just a few boards, and I'm a totally different character! A Dark Elf instead of a High Cleric - its a completely different game, I swear! At first the excuse was that I wanted to make sure we could "avoid the glitch" this time, but that excuse only worked until I got to - and past - the "glitch-section." Then my infidelity became glaring. The tell-tale dip in the couch, the unfamiliar screens, the way in which my character just glided through the old boards, eyes half-closed and fingers fluttering over the controller like Helen Keller showing off.
Ryan confronted me one morning, and I broke like a Southern Baptist. Yes, I'd done it, I'd played without him and it was agregious, shameful, I already knew what happens after you beat the Vampire Lord. Ryan pleaded and I mumbled an agreement - I would stop. But how? How could I leave the Dark Elf Veronica stranded in a watery cave with no one but Skelly to keep her company for GOD KNOWS HOW LONG! Sure, she can breathe thanks to the Mermaid's Blessing, but STILL! How many months will it be before she levels up enough to wear that True Breastplate I've been dragging around for weeks?? It takes a strong woman, no Gainer, I, to admit that it would take more than just a mumbled vow of cold turkey to keep me away. I went to the Gamer's Methadone Clinic. I did what I've been wanting to do since March, when it was released. I bought Kingdom Hearts 2. Sometimes it takes a desperate moment to take a leap of faith. Let's hope I make it to work tomorrow. Goodbye, friends. I shall see you on the other side. But remember, I chose this path for good reason. I did it for my roomie Ryan.

Pumpkin Party

2006-10-24T19:56:00.001-07:00

This past Sunday I hosted a pumpkin carving party. We had Pumpkin Soup, Pumpkin Pasta, Pumpkin Ale, and Pumpkin Pie. There were prizes given away for the best pumpkins and I think everyone had a good time.

I hate throwing parties. I turn into a crazy person. I spend all day cleaning and buy WAY too much food and booze, and then I sit around worrying that no one will come over. Eventually somebody shows up, and then somebody else, and before you know it, we have what's known as a party. There weren't too many folks this go round, I guess Sunday is a tough day to throw a bash, even my roommates Ryan and Joelle barely made it towards the end. But I just make myself sick wondering if people are having a good time or if they want to leave. The music wasn't very loud - I thought, Oh God, Everyone is going to want to leave. Nobody ate the food - the second they walked in the door - so of course I was convinced it tasted bad. It wasn't until after the eighth compliment that I relaxed enough to stop worrying about it. I was circling constantly, barely talking to any of my friends, to make sure everyone had beer - and then telling myself the whole to time to sit down and carve, since everyone already knew where the beer was. Honestly, I'm getting tense right now just thinking about it. I have wonderful friends - I think they would know how to have a good time waiting at the DMV. I just have a party phobia.

I once heard a story about a girl who was unpopular in high school, and her parents threw her a huge Christmas party - they rented out the local dance hall, hired a band and caterers, there were even printed invites. Only three people showed. They quitely made there way through the buffet line, ate and left. The girl and her Dad danced alone to the music in the middle of the hall, which must have been decked to the nines. When ever I think about that little girl, I want to cry for everyone that ever throws a party - and ends up dancing alone. So it looks like I dodged that bullet once again, but I think I'm done throwing parties for the year. Too many ulcers.

Spoken in Haste

2006-10-12T17:40:00.000-07:00

I almost took that last blog down, because I wrote it when I was very sad, and as is common in my profession, it was super dramatic. It made Mom cry. And Dad sent an email. Of course, Dad sends an email every thirty seconds, so I can't really count that as a phenomenon. The point is, I rather boldy inferred that I don't have any friends out here that are "close", like "family". That's not true. In fact, I have many friends out here that I could turn to in a time of need, and a few really special folks that have been supportive of me through thick and lots of thin. I guess what I failed to acknowledge in my cloudy moment was that being an adult with adult friends is sort of new to me. When I was a kid, if you were my best friend (and I had about ten at any given moment), I could prove it by looking in my backpack for folded up notes with signatures like BFF and LYLAS. When I got home from school, if you were my bestest new/old friend, we would talk on the telephone for about an hour, and then take another hour to hang up - you go first, no, YOU go first. No, YOU. Hang on, MOM! I'm hanging up right now! OK I gotta go, you hang up, OK? CMON, I gotta go! YOU HANG UP!

It was so easy back then.

I've thought about inviting the following people over to have a big slumber party, but that doesn't mean the same thing now that Mom and Dad don't live with me. But here are just a few of the folks I should have mentioned in my last blog. Call it my BFF list. There's more, but I thought I'd introduce you to a few:

My roomie Ryan - a puppy in mud. Ryan and I lucked out last year when we became roomies and discovered that we have more in common than Dean Koontz and Stephen King. We love to play video games together, and he's the one who gave me the attitude adjustment this past Sunday when I sang my "I ain't got nobody" song.

Sara and Matt Young - I can't shake these fools. No matter how hard I try, they are the coolest couple a single girl could model her secret marriage fantasy after. Matt I've known since college, and Sara I met when I moved out - they let me stay at their apartment when I first came to check out LA. Hey, I moved here didn't I? So obviously its all their fault.

Joseph Limbaugh - JoJo McDeli-Dad and about fifty other nicknames. Joseph is the director at the theatre (ACME) where I do comedy and if it weren't for him I'd probably be allergic to improv. Our friendship began ten years ago when we played together at Dad's Garage. He also will kick anyone's ass at DK racing, but not necessarily MarioKart.

Josh Flaum - Josh and I really became friends when we worked on the Underground together. I can't believe how much I love talking to this guy, and we still have topics yet undiscussed... He is smarter than the Atom Bomb.

Anni Lundy - I like redheads born in August. So this was a perfect fit. Anni and I met at ACME and, well, its obvious to everybody but us that we are totally gay for each other. Come on, that trip to Big Bear?? Nobody was fooled, not even her cool hubbie Dan. Seriously. Its gross. Oh, AND we are running the Vegas marathon together. HELLO! GAY CITY!

Tania Gonzalez - Whew. Thats me breathing a sigh of relief that this girl is back in my life. We were friends in college, but out here in LA its a whole new ballgame. She makes me laugh, and again with the awesome inspiring relationship - her husband Mike Yav is one of may favorite peeps in the universe also.

Deb and Brendan O'Neill - Thats right, you cynics! They are married! Like that and the Red Sox winnning the Series are the two greatest events of all time! I met Deb and Brendan one weekend in Sarasota at FSU's graduate theatre program, but it wasn't until I moved out here... well its a long story, but now we work together at Asia de Cuba, Deb and I - and Brendan is my Maggiano's hook-up. Also a mean Guitar-Hero-ist.

OK, I should take a break from this list, which is written in order of physical attractiveness. (Couples' scores are averaged). I just don't want Mom and Dad to think I don't have pals out here. But maybe more importantly, I want to make sure I don't forget.

We R Family

2006-10-08T17:00:00.000-07:00

This weekend I went to my cousin Amy's wedding. She married her boyfriend of seven years, Kevin, in a church in LaGrange, Kentuckey. It was a gorgeous fall wedding, we giggled through the whole ceremoony and danced through the whole reception. My entire family on my Mom's side was there, for the first time in... well let's not get started on the "when was the last time" debate. Its been awhile. I came back home to LA today and I'm just as blue as can be. There's just nothing more important in this world than family, and its what I'm missing most of the time out here. After being here for over five years, I feel as alone as if I'd just moved out. I can't really help it, I guess. All my life I've moved every couple years, so that the only people I've known all my life have been my immediate family. I see how other folks out here have made their close friends into family, and I know I should do that, but I haven't. Not really. I have alot of good friends out here, but no one that I can say is like a brother or sister. I know that's part of the reason I fell so hard for Nick - his amazingly supportive and welcoming family, which included more people he wasn't related to than he was. I'm learning more about myself day after day, and I'm realizing that I need my family. I recognized that sense of relief when I came back to the restaurant - my friends at Asia de Cuba had started to feel like family, and when I left them last year, I didn't realize how lonely I'd be. I'm not discounting the many wonderful friends I have out here, I'm simply recognizing a level to which I haven't let them into my life. The person I was this weekend around my cousins hasn't been around here in a long time. I realize that I have to build a family for myself, outside of the ones back home, or else I'll be heading home myself really soon. Maybe that is the best choice for me - Mom and Dad certainly think so. They're usually right. At the end of the day, I'd rather be at a hundred cousin's weddings than on a hundred TV shows. Its good to learn things about yourself.

RIP Bane Kitty

2006-09-27T09:56:00.000-07:00

July 1995 - August 2006.
Banister Allouiscious Cretin the Third turned up missing this past August, having not returned home for his afternoon feeding at his residence in Seminole, AL where his caretakers Mom and Dad Ochs live. Bane Kitty, as he was known by most, was the smartest, coolest kitty that ever lived. He was born in Tallahassee, FL, abandoned to a pet store along with his brothers and sisters. My college roommates Melissa and Michelle rescued him for the price of a litter box and some gravel. He was given his many names by all three of us, but the concensus was that he most resembled his first name, Bane. He croaked like a parrot because he was part Siamese, and from his first days it was obvious that he would spend his 9 lives well. When Bane was not even a year old, he was hit by a car and broke his hind leg. He went into hiding for a few days where he contracted a severe cold and some nasty flea bites. When he finally returned, he was barely recognizable. It was the same summer that I was in London, so he was cared for by Michelle, Emily, Joe, and a few other friends. He walked around the house in a pink leg cast, with a cone around his head. Bane would soon become familiar with "the cone". When I returned to FSU the next year, Bane and I were a permanent pair. I officially adopted him from my other roommates, and we moved into the home of Tom, Lauren, Tanya and Mary Jane. Along with five people, Bane became fast friends with 7+ dogs, 5 other cats, two ferrets, two finches (one of whom he finally ate), and several fish. It was thanks to Lauren's vet skills that we discovered Bane's limp was the result of bad surgery - there was still a pin in his foot which should have been removed! Once the pin was removed, Bane seemed to recover like Lance Armstrong. (Or maybe we should say Lance would later recover like Bane.) The rest of Bane's life at FSU was fun-filled, and he met two of his best kitty friends, Thurston and Annabelle.
When I graduated from FSU, Bane traveled with me to Atlanta. It was here that he met his other best friend, Alex. They were fun-loving wrestling kitties, and even made a short film together. It was also in Atlanta that Bane first started to show signs of his life-long illness, Feline Herpes. It was during these many outbreaks that Bane would become truly familiar with "the cone", as his infections would develop in his eyes, eventually leaving him half blind. But Bane never lost his sense of adventure. He got to know my brother Jay for a few months by sitting on his lap while watching Survivor. He also loved his kitty-sitter Chad, on whom he played a great practical joke: for the week I was out of town, Alex pretended he was Bane and came in every day to eat while Bane went out partying on the town. For the whole week Chad fed Alex instead of Bane!
When it was time for me to move to LA, it was clear that Bane's health was delicate, and his best place was at the beautiful one-acre riverside home of my parents. It was here that Bane lived out the rest of his days, perhaps his happiest, ruling the woods of Seminole, AL. He was very well cared for by Dad, Mom, Laura and sometimes Jack and Helen. It was Jack and Helen's chihuahua Taco who was Bane's best friend in his later years. They would meet each other in the morning and walk around together, and even share food.
When I came home this past Labor Day weekend, Bane was gone. We don't know where he went to hide, but the last few days he was seen, he had stopped eating. Had he stayed home just one more day, he would have made it to the vet, but sometimes Kitties know better than we do. Perhaps Bane has just gone off to other adventures like he often did, and will return, but I have a feeling he's gone on the greatest adventure of all. RIP Bane Kitty. You will be missed.

Everybody else is doing it...

2006-09-25T07:54:00.000-07:00

Hi and welcome to my new blogsite, friends and family! Its going to take me a few days to get all of this up and running, but after realizing that I could blog for free, I've been chomping at the bit to stick it to those Typepad fools. Silly me, thinking I had to pay somebody to host my blog - it was costing me $4.46 a month! And for what? Its not even as cool as this blogspot site. And my fear of losing past entries or readers is ridiculous - I don't do this for you people, I do it for me!! So from now on, if you want my news, its FREE! OK, so it was always free for you, but now its free for me, too. Next up, changing my long-owned email address so I don't have to pay six bucks a month just to keep it. Piracy, this internet business is!!