the one about Chick-fil-A

I'm not kidding. God speaks to me at Chick-fil-A.

Recently, I've been very saddened by goings-on among servers at the restaurant where I work. There are certain little tricks servers can do to pocket an extra couple dollars here and there. (No, I won't tell you what they are.) It's shadiness--at best--and downright embezzlement--at worst.

I honestly can't tell if the managers are clueless or if they're looking the other way.

It bothers me that servers who don't care about service more than I do leave with $20-30 more than me every shift.

My integrity is challenged multiple times...

...every day.

Last week, I was having a particularly rough day. The weather was gloomy. Guests were tipping poorly. I decided to walk to Chick-fil-A on my break.

*Angelic singing*

It was, no exaggeration, a spiritual oasis from the heaviness of my day. I gots me some nuggets. Christian music was playing (as always). There was a group of guys from church there, too.

As I was eating, a Chick-fil-A team member was basically life coaching one of the managers. He talked about scheduling a time for *everything*. Exercise, God, friends, personal time... His encouragement for her was actually inspiring me.

It was awesome.

On top of that, I've been encouraged to continue in doing what is right. There is no underestimating the value of doing the right thing when no one is looking. And with the future God has for me at stake, there's no way I can be sowing seeds of theft, manipulation, deceit and underhandedness.

No.

Way.

Quick update on the career since I blogged last: I am officially SAG-eligible now! This is a huge and long-awaited step forward. I've also been able to put together an actor slate and a short reel... for my new agent! Same agency. Better agent. Also, I get to go to the Oscars dress rehearsal this weekend.

So, God is doing stuff. He's moving, I'm sure (even though I only get to see little glimpses of it here and there).

And He's providing. Providing rent, and my happy place: Chick-fil-A.

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Godot

Chances are, you don't have a degree in theatre.

But you've still probably heard of Waiting for Godot or at least it's Nobel Prize-winning playwright Samuel Beckett. The Times (London)--and I'm pulling this quote off the back cover here--called it, "One of the most noble and moving plays of our generation, a threnody of hope deceived and deferred but never extinguished..." (Yeah, I had to look up "threnody" too.)

Basically, all you need to know is that two guys seem to wait day after day for a man named Godot who never shows up.

Although the play was originally written in French (and the play-on-words doesn't work in French), many people see Godot as a symbol for God... and that the title could very easily be Waiting for Godot.

I feel like I've been waiting on God for a long time.

To clarify, I feel like I've been waiting for God to bring me into the destiny as an artist that I've been called to. I can look back at my life and see how much I've grown and how much He's prepared me for this job... but a lot of times I wonder if it's even coming.

I'm sure you feel or have felt the same way, too.

"There's gotta be more to it than this."

"How much longer can I go before I decide that I was wrong?"

"Sure, dreams can change, but isn't that just a cop out for quitting what you loved first?"

Whether or not you're a surviving artist, these are big questions even when the biggest questions about meaning and eternity seem figured out.

However, right now, I seem to be waiting less on God (which I was sort of getting used to, in a manner of speaking), and waiting more on people.

In mid-September I had an audition for Tokyo Disney. This would be a huge 13-month commitment with no home leave, beginning next spring. A big change, a big risk, but a big opportunity.

Now, I already work for the Mouse, subbing in the "Celebrate: A Street Party" parade. I made it through every round of cuts until they took my measurements, pictures, contact info, etc. They even gave me their contact info (so you know they're serious). Casting decisions were supposed to be finished by "the 2nd week of October."

But that didn't happen.

A couple weeks ago, I started trying to make contact with people in casting. I finally got a hold of someone Stateside who said they are still in the process of making offers but should be wrapped up by the end of the month.

Well, that hasn't happened either.

And I haven't wanted to throw myself into staying or leaving since I don't know what I'm doing. But I can't just sit around for weeks that turn into months waiting on people.

So, I'm deciding (as I type this, really) to pursue a manager, become SAG-eligible, save up the $2277 to become SAG, get into acting/dance/voice classes, work out (ugh...), etc.

I want to make myself available to God, but I also want to make myself the best instrument possible for my craft.

I don't really love absurdist theatre (helloooo! ...it's absurd!), but I do appreciate how The Times mentioned that for all its search for beauty in life's uncertainty and even pain, Waiting for Godot is about a hope "never extinguished."

Reminds me of something I once read...

Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see.

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Marc

I know it's the gloomy weather.

Partly, anyway.

But I regularly go through seasons where I feel, mm, not depressed, but sort of disappointed, I suppose.

For a long time, I didn't know how to describe how I felt. Then, several years ago, a friend introduced me to singer Marc Broussard. I connected to his music on several levels. A) He's blue-eyed soul. B) Half his songs are romantic and of much more intimate and mature fare than the Top 40 I've grown to love/hate. C) The other half of his songs expressed exactly how I feel in those "down" times.

As I read up a bit on Marc, a music critic described the feeling exactly:

World-weary.

That's so spot-on for how I feel. And it's weird cuz I'm not cynical. I'm not old. I'm in my young 20's and I'm freakin already world-weary.

...Huh?

I've boiled it down to the reason why--

Recently, I saw my very first midnight tribute showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I'd wanted to go for a long time cuz I'm a theatre kid who's never seen it. Plus, Glee is doing a Rocky Horror episode this week... and I didn't wanna be clueless. So we dressed up. And went.

It was *crazy*.

And so much fun. If you've never been, I can hardly describe it as anything else. Well, maybe "insane." But that's the same. There's at least an hour of pre-show ritual, then two hours of movie with time warping, leather, transvestites, Meatloaf, singing, the throwing of water into the audience, the throwing of insults at the screen, the throwing of toilet paper, a young Susan Sarandon (way way before Thelma and Louise), and aliens.

Yes, aliens.

Then I flew to the annual epic Halloween party of my adopted Maryland family.

It, too, was *crazy*.

And so much fun. Catered food, at the very least 50+ cardboard cutouts of iconic film characters, a dj and dance floor, a photographer, costumes everywhere, musical theatre performances, swimming, and a drag performance by a straight man.

And in all of these over-the-top experiences of merriment, silliness and sheer craziness, God gave me the two-part reason for my world-weariness:

The world has so so much to offer. Yet this world has nothing for me.

I've had so much fun bonding with people over common experiences--and I'm not denying the importance of relationships with people--yet outside of eternal significance,

it's all pointless.

It's like, "Ecclesiastes. Dude, hi."

Which is why I *have* to act. I have a mission statement:

1) To develop and rock the talent God has given me, in order
2) To bring an experience of God as he really is to the artists and creators of Hollywood, and
3) To empower like-minded Christian artists do the same.

I pray that my mission facilitates conversations and relationships and experiences of eternal significance. Cuz aside from that, what's life's? Just Marc Broussard's world-weary songs? Y'know?

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Beverly

God is hysterically funny sometimes.

Let me tell you a story. A story about an acting teacher I once had:

More than two years ago, early summer, my fraternity brother and I were walking to dinner when a woman in possibly her late 50s approached us. She was a black woman, about 5'2", visibly not homeless, her graying hair pulled back into a bun.

She told us her name was Beverly.

She asked us if either of us had AAA Premium (or something like that) because she needed her car to be towed. The understanding was that this premium level of AAA service allowed for the member to not be present at the site where the tow truck would come, but since neither my brother nor I had this status, it was a moo point. Her car was several blocks away, had already been ticketed for leaking anti-freeze into the environment, and was in danger of being towed by law enforcement to the tune of a couple hundred dollars. If she could get it towed herself, she could could get the job done for about eighty.

She was only $34 short.

Beverly asked, "Could you do a favor for a schoolteacher?"

I told her that if she followed me to an ATM nearby, I could get her the money she needed. She was very grateful and, the entire walk to the machine, she told us about how rewarding an experience teaching is. An earthquake had just happened in L.A., and Beverly explained how she had taught her elementary students about fault lines and earthquake magnitude. She even told us that she once had a student graduate high school and come back and thank her years later.

When we arrived at the ATM, she took my phone number. She told me that, when she was safe at home, she would call me, let me know she was home, and get my money back to me. I withdrew $40, and we parted ways, and Beverly walked out of my life.

As my bro and I entered the dining establishment, it dawned on me that it was quite possible that I would never see that money again and that everything I had just heard was a lie. I waited for a phone call, but of course none ever came.

I'd been conned.

Not only that, but I was an easy con.

I was so angry that I decided to tell myself that I had invested $40 into acting lessons because, indeed, Beverly (if that's even her real name), was a brilliant actress who played her part just as well as she'd played me!

I told God that he'd have to make up that $40 to me someday. I'm pretty sure I'll be waiting on that $40 for a long time....*sighs*.....

But tonight, in the grocery store parking lot, after more than two years, I was again approached by Beverly! She looked exactly the same.

And she didn't recognize me......

Half of me wanted to choke her and yell, "I've dreamed about this night, now where's my $40, b****!"

But of course, I didn't.

She told me she "needed a tow."

She asked me how school was.

She asked me for "some part of $34."

She asked if I had an ATM card on me.

I lied.

But I gave her 75 cents. (My good friend thinks it's outlandish that I gave her any money at all the 2nd time! But I was so fascinated that I wanted to hear her out again.)

I let her borrow my cell phone so she could call her "sick husband and let him know where I am." (I'll probably call that # tomorrow just out of curiosity.)

Then Beverly proceeded to give me a life lesson on respecting the work that women do. Then we parted ways.

If I see her again, maybe I'll confront her about the incident from two years ago. But maybe she's some sort of humorous messenger from God sent to give me acting lessons and life lessons.

Y'never know.

Whatever.

PS--I'm in a PSA. See if you can spot me. Hint: Look for Vanessa Hudgens. :)

Laters, everyone!

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Questions

Ever realize that God doesn't really answer the why's?

I mean, the Bible answers "what." Nature and the world answer "where." The Holy Spirit generally answers "who" and "when." But rarely do we get a "why" answer.

Why does God choose *not* to act?

Why do I keep making stupid decisions (Rom 7)?

Why won't she choose Jesus?

Why do I go to dance auditions only to have them cut the good people?

Why can't life ever be simple?

Why *don't* I have a girlfriend?

Why does my Christian sister keep getting bad news, blow after blow after blow?

And it seems to me that the way we handle these non-answers really shapes our personal faith. So, I get it. That's the reason why we don't get our why's answered.

So before I blog myself into confusion, let me just give the highs and lows of what's been up with me, so you know where all these questions are coming from. I started work at a restaurant adjacent to campus (high--I really need the money and benefits). But it kinda sorta conflicted with the extra work I was doing and I got fired from Central Casting (low--even though extra work didn't mean that much to me). I performed in my hip hop team's dance showcase (high--it was awesome), except I have no idea whether or not my agent came like he said he would (low--he was nowhere to be found after the show). I submitted my online audition for Glee (high--please watch it and give me a gold star!), but I'm pretty positive the casting will not be done off online videos (low--I need a real live audition from my less-than-communicative agent). Yesterday, I had my first day as a parade performer at Disneyland (high--even though it was modified for the rain). It's also the toughest mission field I can think of and two of my role models are moving out of state (low--what am I gonna do?!) I also told camp that I'd be back for two weeks in August and I'm super-stoked (high--I miss my campers and know that God wants me back there).

So, needless to say, lots of questions.

Please pray for me. Pray for my mission field.

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Steam

I never thought God would use the random Asian guy to grab my face and point it heavenward.

For the past couple months, I've wrestled with a lack of clear spiritual.... *squints eyes looking for the right word* ...task. You may have read my previous blogs and picked up that the transition out of college hasn't come easily to me. I don't wanna just work on my own spiritual growth.

I've lacked a certain... focus, I guess. And it made me feel disconnected. Just a little. Just enough to be slightly off-putting. This manifested itself for me in a weird spiritual haze.

I experienced a steam room recently (for the first time in a looooong time) at a bro's apartment complex. We were the only ones in the room and we sat at opposite corners. As the steam filled the room, it became more difficult to see him and, in the end, we could hardly see our feet much less the other person. However, the lines of communication were still 100% open. I knew he was there. I could hear him. He told me to look at the ceiling and breathe--which I couldn't do without coughing--and I could hear him laugh at me. But I couldn't see him.

I even went to the Dream Center and heard a very powerful message about taking time out specifically to do nothing except let God love me.

(That's one of the most difficult things ever. If you can, take five minutes to do nothing but let Him love you.

Don't apologize,

don't ask forgiveness,

don't renew failed commitments.

He knows all that. You'll work on it later.

Just let Him love you.

This five minutes could change your life.)

This time at church blew my mind, but I still felt somehow disconnected.

But tonight at AGO, there was a random Asian guy in the prayer room. (Eventually, I learned his name, but that's irrelevant right now.) He heard me singing a JB song and wanted to know if I was down for an impromptu jam/worship sesh. I was. He played guitar, suggesting that we start with an improv'd worship song. Already stoked at God's goodness (because I finally got a job! yeay! and because I had just finished leading the pledge class Bible study), the thankfulness in my heart for God's grace and faithfulness just poured out. Not like in the worship songs I've sung for the past two months. No, this was different. It took this unplanned, heartfelt worship to grab my face and walk me through the steam until I could clearly see the face of my Savior.

In this interim time, in this meantime, one task comes to the forefront: to focus on Christ. To adore Him and become more like him. Maybe this means ravenous reading of the Scriptures. Maybe this means writing songs and poems about how He makes me feel. Maybe this means doing some things that may draw some judgment from people I care about.

Whatever it takes... I'll do freakin anything to become more Christlike.

I never thought God would use the random Asian guy to grab my face and point it heavenward.

But He did.

Thanks, God.

(And thanks, random Asian guy.)

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Dreams

So much has happened. I feel so cool to be in Los Angeles, no longer a student, living the dream.

Then again, nothing's happened, really.

It's weird--making this transition where, after 18 years of my life being filled with classes, I no longer have to be in school. After 2 1/2 years of my spiritual life being largely invested in AGO and USC's spiritual well-being, I no longer have that to pour into. After several years of studying acting, I'm now out in the industry. And after roughly 7 years of working, my only job right now is finding a job.

However, I now have an agent. ...Finally. Not just one that's representing me commercially, but theatrically too. One that's SAG/AFTRA franchised.

I also have put in probably about fifteen job applications at different places nearby, have had interviews at two different places and have a second interview at one of them tomorrow.

Plus, this weekend, I was the personal PA (production assistant) to the director of the musiCares benefit concert at the LA Convention Center--which allowed me industry experience and the privilege to be in the presence of music legends/greats like Neil Young, Sheryl Crow, Keith Urban, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Josh Groban, Tony Bennett, Lady Antebellum, Elton John, etc.

And I ordered new headshots.

So, steps in the right direction. Even though I don't feel like I've hit any real mile markers yet.

I guess I'm just coming to realize how much of the dream is me, working. I mean, Dad often says, "You can't do God's part, and He won't do your part." I just feel as though I've been working and waiting forever.

My friend slash fellow dancer, Kristy Cavinder, became the 1st runner-up in the Miss America pageant last night. She was sensational. Gorgeous. She's got amazing grades (as a pre-med student, not the easiest!), wants to be a pediatric heart surgeon, is the most spectacular ballet dancer I've ever personally seen, has loads of poise and self-confidence, and loves Jesus.

But she didn't win.

All that homework and practice and performing and studying and more practice.

And she hasn't... "arrived."

And that's a good thing. How sad would it be to have arrived at age 21? Where's the rest of one's life go?

So, good for her... and good for me, too. Pastor Matthew said today, "The only way to have longevity in your dream is to have confidence in the God of your dream." We constantly work and strive to protect and achieve our dreams, but the destination will never be reached and the journey's gonna pretty much suck without our confidence resting in Him.

Only

in

Him.

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Beginnings

*In this particular entry, I mean no offense to anyone, but I mince no words or feelings. Please read to the end and hear my heart.*

Zechariah 4:6, 10 "...It is not by force nor by strength, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies... Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin...”

Today, out of Christian duty, I finally watched the film Fireproof.

Hated it. Hated it. *Hated* it.

Well, love-hated it, actually. I loved laughing at it.

After which, my love turned to hate.

The Sherwood Picture is created by the Alex and Stephen Kendrick team that made Facing the Giants. Most of the cast for Giants was made of volunteer actors from Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, Georgia. And for its $100,000 budget, it grossed over $10M. Not bad. From what I can tell, Fireproof wasn't much different in its production budget. Except it has Kirk Cameron starring instead of Alex Kendrick. *rolls eyes*

But amateur filmmakers + script with nauseating dialogue + Podunk actors = pitiful pandering

Adding a "Christian" label is a travesty of Christianity that, for me, spells embarrassment.

Crawl-in-a-hole,

embarrassed-to-be-a-Christian,

mortification.

Now, I get that the makers of the film aren't looking to earn any awards with their films. They're aiming to make a wholesome alternative entertainment for Christians. They aren't trying to turn heads in Hollywood.

But that's what's happening.

Whether or not the film is made for Christians, the secular world sees films like this and says, "What a joke! Christianity

is

a

joke."

And it sickens and aggravates me.

Now, of course the flipside to the coin is this: How did I expect them to do better? They truly and honestly did the very best with what they had. Thousands and thousands of families enjoyed these films.

You have to start somewhere.

And I don't have to defend God to the world.

Zechariah 4:6,10. I get all that. I get it. But as a Christian actor, I'm just not sure I can stomach it. Especially when there are films like Amazing Grace that are arguably equally as uplifting and faith-based.

So, *gets on knees* here's my foundational, pretty-pretty-please-take-heed advice for Christian filmmakers on a budget. I say this because it universally applies to film and theatre of all genres and all budgets:

Your first job MUST be to tell a story! NO EXCEPTIONS.

Stories can have Christian themes or messages. But messages--secular, Christian, or otherwise--disguised in film clothing fall flat, feel fake, pander.

Outside of that, I can't ask for anything else. I pray God uses Christian films to bring glory to His name. I pray that Christian filmmakers grow into excellence. I pray these humble beginnings see their victory in the end.

Until then (and this is a whole different topic), I can really only see myself being salt and light outside the church, not creating Christian films, but being Jesus to the film industry. But I certainly can't do that with a critical, unloving spirit in my heart.

Right? (;

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Home

Sorry (to all three of my faithful readers) that I haven't blogged in a while. This blog is, by definition, about my acting life. Alack, I've been with family for Christmas and not in LA. Thus, minimal acting and therefore no blogging. *upper lip curls*

But tonight I thought I'd write about being home. At the church my dad and mom pastor, I did get the opportunity to let my creative juices flow... or at least ooze. I used the church announcements to re-write the words to Beauty and the Beast's song "Be Our Guest." My sister and I then performed and recorded what I called "Announcements: The Musical!" You can see that here. Also, I adapted an SNL sketch from their Christmas episode for a sketch (theatre majors much prefer the word "sketch" to a "skit") applicable to Dad's Sunday message "Prince of Peace."

Anyways, visiting East is always enjoyable, but never satisfying. It's much like a fun vacation--no matter how much you enjoy it, at some point you will want it to be over.

You want to go home.

Mom says, "Home is where your mother is." I get that. But it isn't true. Even if she went with me on the vacation somewhere, I would eventually want to go home. The USC School of Theatre plays on the old axiom, saying, "Home is where your art is." But if acting took me to Japan, would I feel home? Not necessarily. I visit my "home church" in Tampa Bay, and thoroughly enjoy seeing friends. But it's no longer home. Is home where you know people love you? No. Is home the place you feel most comfortable taking a huge poo? Close. No cigar, though.

I told Mom, "Home is where your life is." I was wrong again.

I really think home is actually where Life has you. I mean, home is where Jesus has called you to be. Anywhere else can be pleasant, but never ultimately satisfying.

I know the Master has me in L.A. However, my life is in so much transition right now, I can't definitively say what's next for me. And as 2009 has only 5-plus hours left, I still don't know what kind of spiritual goals I can set for myself. I have career goals: get an agent again, start becoming financially independent. I have personal goals: budget, lift weights. But spiritual goals? Measurable spiritual goals?

All I know is 2 Cor. 5:9 -- "Therefore, whether we are at home [on earth away from Him] or away from home [and with Him], we are constantly ambitious and strive earnestly to be pleasing to Him."

And I'll need His grace to do it. (I know I said I'd write about John Bevere and grace. And I will. Soon. Until then...)

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Neoteny

We were so silly, the four of us.

At about 2:00 a.m. on Thanksgiving Day, my three friends and I were in a Rite Aid drugstore in Santa Ana, California. We bought a few things, but we were there for a certain express purpose: to put on a spontaneous musical theatre performance. Not an hour earlier, we had decided to amuse ourselves by changing the words to the Beauty and the Beast song “Be Our Guest” to “I Need Drugs.” We then performed it at unsuspecting 24-hour locations. (Of course, the footage is on youtube. Of course not, I’m not telling you where to find it. In fact, half the freaks on youtube are capitalizing on what I’m about to blog today…)

The first drugstore’s employees gave us a standing ovation. (Granted, there were only two working at the time. But still generous, considering that our performance was completely unrehearsed.) We decided to try a Walgreens; the manager stopped us half-way through and kicked us out.

There’s something to be said about society’s repression of creativity and fun through making people feel foolish. It was difficult enough mustering up the courage to sing and dance in a drugstore!

I just finished one of the most fascinating chapters of nonfiction I’ve ever read: “The Importance of Looking Foolish” from In a Pit With a Lion on a Snowy Day. He mentions a study that found that 98% of children between the ages of three and five score in the genius category for creative thinking and another study that about 100% of first grade students consider themselves to be artists.

What happens? I’m sure you can look back on your own story and decide the answer.

I’ve always considered myself to be really youthful, and a lot of my friends help me stay that way. I love working with kids. I’ve always looked five years younger than I am. I own (slash love) a pair of Heely’s.

Still, I feel the pressure to seem “mature” and not “childlike.”

My new fav word is neoteny, meaning “the retention of youthful qualities by adults.”

World-changers have to get over the fear of looking foolish. And Jesus’ grace is the way to do that. (More to come on grace and the mind-changing message John Bevere gave at the Dream Center.) Jesus came to “proclaim that captives will be released.” This means more than freedom from sin; it also means getting us out of the psychological straightjacket we’ve gotten ourselves into.

I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven.

My fraternity name is “hiphoponpop” or “hiphop” for short. I’m almost always dancing to the music in my head, whether I realize it or not. People have called me crazy, fruity, whatever. But I’ve seen that most people, with the right song blasting, go crazy dancing. (Like Elaine doing her thumbs-kicks-dance on Seinfeld.) We may look crazy, but…

“Those who hear not the music think the dancer is mad.”

Who’s really crazy? Me? The dancer who doesn’t care what people think? Or is the people who can’t hear the music?

Jesus didn’t care what society thought of him; young kids don’t either; King David didn’t either. He said,

“I am willing to act like a fool in order to show my joy in the Lord. Yes, and I am willing to look even more foolish than this.”

I want to be willing to look foolish if it means living life to the fullest.

In update news: I have a place to live next semester. Yeay! Praise God and thank you for your prayers. I still need a job, though. So, keep praying!

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Misogyny

No, I'm not going to spend this blog crying about the women in my life. (And some are definitely worth crying about...)

But am I going to talk about my experience at Isabel Allende's lecture at Bovard Auditorium? Yes. To catch you up, if you're not an avid magical realism reader, Isabel is the daughter of slain (debated) Chilean President Salvador Allende who has written all sorts of famous works of fiction, including her famous The House of Spirits. Anyways, I went to hear her speech because I like the magical realism genre and because it was extra credit to go for my "Peoples and Cultures of the Americas" (aka "Studies in Brazilian Gay Porn") class.

She's a lovely woman, very intelligent, obvi. She's also a self-proclaimed feminist.

Gross.

Or so I thought before I went.

I think that she helped me understand at least the mindset behind some of the "girl power" talk that used to make me roll my eyes. Not that I agree with it all, neither do a lot of non-feminist women.

She began by talking about the importance of female energy. I completely understood what she meant. Us theatre students, we get a lot of talk about different "energy." In business, they prefer to call energy "attitude." It's all the same, really. But contrasting with the modus operandi of men, when women are under pressure, Isabel pointed out that they usually don't respond with violence. Instead, they respond with greater relational and emotional intensity. She didn't claim that this was better 100% of the time, but at least valuable 100% of the time. She is a feminist who advocates for more balance in masculine-feminine energy and for the protection of the women whose rights seems so invisible in most underprivileged countries.

Sounds so noble, doesn't it?

...Doesn't it?

Then I began thinking about all this stuff Biblically. *Sighs in relief as sanity returns* We all have different gifts (Rom 12), and yes we should choose peace whenever possible (also Rom 12). But I think that feminism in general looks to distort the lines of what gifts we all have. Instead of embracing feminine qualities and doing a good job of being women, feminism attempts to put men and women in each others' places. And yes, we do all have a "place."

I don't know that Jesus would ever "jokingly" tell a woman to get to "her place" in the kitchen. That's misogyny, and I'm pretty sure that's not so okay with the Son of Man, Word? *smiles at Christian pun* However, I do think that if a woman ever offered to make Him a sandwich, He would've said "You, woman, are a keeper!"

I'm sure more artistic or life news will be on its way soon. Til then, the new OneRepublic album is worth your money. Ryan Tedder is one of my heroes. He could be yours too.

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about a Cast

I've noticed a few things.

First, I noticed that life's no fun when there's no off-limits. I look at some people's lives and wonder, "What if (s)he played sports like that? With no rules? No out-of-bounds? Why is life any different?" It isn't. People get hurt. No off-limits = no fun.

Second, I noticed the 150+ students from different Christian campus ministries who gathered at Tommy Trojan last Tuesday for four hours of prayer and worship. It was amazing seeing the hearts of God's children beating in sync with His own, taking a stand for the Prince of Peace and extraordinary spirit living. If you weren't there, you'll have to imagine for yourself the reckless Jesus-loving that was going on. Praise God for what He's doing on the campus of USC! (Cause He certainly isn't choosing to glorify Himself through USC football victories. *Weeps bitterly*)

Third, I've noticed that the 1992 film version of Michael Frayn's play Noises Off is fantastic! If you haven't seen it, I suggest you'll love it, but be forewarned of brief strong language. This film stars Michael Caine (always fantastic), Carol Burnett (wish my generation knew her), John Ritter (wish he was still around), Christopher Reeve (him too), Nicolette Sheridan (way before Housewives), Marilu Henner (new to me), a besotted Denholm Elliott (in his final performance before he died of AIDS), Julie Hagerty (poor thing), and Mark Linn-Baker (from Perfect Strangers).

Now...

When last I posted, I'd decided to audition for Urinetown. Here's the update: I sang 32 bars from "Ladies Choice" from the film version of Hairspray and--contrary to most auditions I've experienced--got to sing my second selection, "Family" from Dreamgirls. Probably thanks to the suspenders I wore...

Got called back.

Danced. It's *great* to be a dancer among non-dancers. Takes so much pressure off.

Sang. Awed by Hollman's Tony-winning harmonies. Whole thing took 4 hours.

Got called back...

for

the

lead.

This hasn't happened in five years--since high school's Guys & Dolls. Not gonna lie, this was big for me. I was nervous about singing that high B in my falsetto. Knew I couldn't belt and sustain the A-flat for 5 measures at the end of "Run Freedom Run." Plus I was called back with three other guys who are--no exaggeration--some of the most talented musical theatre artists in this university.

Last night was the callback. I was there singing for another 4 hours. Sang the best that I possibly could. Couldn't have asked for better. Not pitchy, no voice cracks, good character choices. I was honored to be there with *amazingly* talented people.

Before church (where Danny Gokey sang) this morning, I checked the cast list online. I wasn't cast.

At all.

And you know, I'm ok with it. Rejection is part of the life of an actor. Auditions are the actor's work; getting cast (perhaps paid) is the perk. (Sorry, Dad.) Plus, every time I'm rejected, I'm one rejection closer to being cast. I trust God will have work for me over the next couple months.

Meanwhile, I have two weeks of rehearsals before the Dance Co show goes up...

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about a Season Finale

I'm only 22 (and three quarters), but I've been around the block enough times to know that life comes in seasons. "I feel change comin." --Lisa Gungor. This season is coming to an end.

And it's a good thing. God can't take me anywhere new if I've got my fingernails dug into the old with some kind of death grip. I'm so crazy blessed, and I'm staying in the area when I graduate, so I'll see a lot of my friends, still. But I can't help being sad and nervous.

Right now, I'm totally into new shows Glee and Modern Family. Glee has a small, but loyal cult following and Modern Family is the funniest new show on TV. (Community? Gag me. It's ridiculously unfunny... and I've been to community college!) Both shows are in their first seasons; neither is doing exceptionally well. I think of these shows and wonder where their future lies? Will they go on? Or will production cease at the end of Season 1? Some shows, i.e. personal faves LOST (Kate, marry me) and The Office (Pam, marry me), do well and their season finales launch the viewers into a prolonged angsty wait for the next season's premiere.

I want my season finale to be good one. One that launches me into the premiere of my next season. But right now, I've got some lions in the way: I still don't know where I'm going to live or where my money is going to come from, physically speaking.

Welcome to the life of an artist, right? *scoffs*

And I feel almost debilitated in acting on my future by not knowing these things. Freakin... ugh. Well, today, I decided that I can continue while not knowing. That's called faith. So, I signed up to audition tomorrow for Musical Theatre Repertory's winter production of Urinetown. Should be interesting.

Also, yesterday, the director of our dance show, Miranda Garrison, who "loves my work ethic" and cries a lot out of deep feeling, basically told me that I don't need to worry about breaking "in" to the industry. She said an agent will come in due time and that being "in" is a mindset.

Veddy eenterestingk. *smiles at typing in dialect*

Well, this artist needs to nap, shower, and go to rehearsal, so... until next time. =)

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Our Town

I'm unsettled. In my spirit. Unsettled.

Before I get to that, a quick update: my ADX friend's brain tumor is "very operable" which is good news. We'll know after her surgery tomorrow if it's benign or not. Please continue to pray. AGO and ADX had an awesome joint prayer sesh for her today.

Ok, so. *huffs readily*

I recently asked a girl if there was a work of literature that has changed her life. She didn't have one, but I had one in mind for myself--Thornton Wilder's Pulitzer Prize-winning three-act play Our Town. If you haven't read it, find a copy as soon as you're finished reading this blog, and read it cover-to-cover. It will change your life. (This is not an Angeleno exaggerating. If you *get* the play, it will change your life.) The plot is basically about George and Emily, next-door neighbor adolescents who fall in love in a small town in 1930s New Hampshire.

Then there's Act III. Emily's died during childbirth and she joins others who've died before her at the cemetery. Emily's ghost learns it is possible to relive parts of her past life and decides to relive her 12th birthday. She only makes it half-way through morning breakfast before she can't stand it anymore. She freaks out yelling how everyone should stop, slow down, look at each other, appreciate the faces in your life, and value life "every, every minute." She asks the Stage Manager whether anyone realizes life while they live it, and is told, "No. Saints and poets, maybe. They do some." It's a brilliant and eloquent piece of dramatic lit with one of the simplest, most powerful messages humanly possible.

But that's not what changed my life.

Simon Stimson changed my life.

In the play, he's the church organist and ersatz choir director who has a rep for being perpetually tipsy. Everyone gossips, looks the other way, and no one says anything to him. In Act III, we find he died by hanging himself in his barn. It's a small part, but Simon rang so true for me. There was a girl in high school, beautiful girl, who kept her hair buzzed, self-mutilated, and tried to commit suicide at least once while I knew her. While I was always nice to her, I never once told her about Jesus. Not once did I open my mouth and tell her about Love. It's my biggest high school regret. And Simon's character made me cry to God...

"Please. Please please, never let me be the person who says nothing."

Flashforward about five years to tonight. I was at Souplantation with five other Christian guys. At the booth next to our table was a very thin young guy... who may not always have been a guy. (Is it sick that we took a vote trying to decide?) He ate bowls and bowls of cookies and brownies and ice cream. Like, a revolting amount of dessert. We're pretty sure he was going into the bathroom and throwing it up. Then he'd repeat the process.

I sat in my seat for a long time. Trying to decide what on earth to say to him. "Do you need help?" "Do you want prayer?" "Are you okay?" All of it sounded so rude in my head. So socially unacceptable. I could not think of what to say.

So I said nothing.

Even after we left, I contemplated going back. I just, *sighs* I don't know where to point the finger or... I don't know. There are a few people in my life I felt God asked me to talk to, but I didn't because I was busy. This guy was simply because I didn't know what to say.

Father, next time, give me the words to speak... or the boldness to just start speaking, trusting You'll take over. Amen.

Okay, well, I'm songwriting tonight with up-and-comer Josh Cumbee. Update ya'll on that later.

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Counting By 5's

So there I was, counting by 5's, wondering why I was doing something so meaningless when life-changing stuff was happening all around me.

Last night, I dressed up as Edward Cullen for the Alpha Delta Chi pledge party. Thanks to a very close pretend fiancee of mine, I was all white powdered on my face with plenty of Twilight-vampire-sparkles. Plus, as all my friends know, I've been growing my hair out to Rob Pattinson length. I've never read the books, but after seeing the movie--I didn't make it through the whole movie (before laughing myself to sleep) until attempt #3--I wondered what makes Rob Pattinson so friggin attractive. (Kind of like Hugh Grant. What's the appeal??!!) Anyways, after seeing the film, I deduced that it just can't be his acting skills.

Therefore, it must be the hair. Rob Pattinson-hair has been my new hair goal since the summer ended. To say the least, I looked a lot like him, as evidenced by many sober girls at the pledge party (and many shwasty girls during AGO's weekly Water On The Row ministry) who wanted to take pictures with me.

Remember how I said in my last blog that I need a job? Well, I actually already have one. Except it's miserable. Not that the work environment is bad; it's just that Sam Dawson could do my job just as easily as I could. Remember how he worked at Starbucks organizing sugar trays? That's my job, except I work at a bookstore. (Some of the wisest words ever spoken to me: This too, shall pass.) My task for the day was to prep for store inventory by counting the thousands of pin-on buttons we have in stock. *Shudders at the memory of doing this for hours straight* The most efficient way to do this, I discovered, is to grab handfuls and count by 5's. (Now you know, in case you also are a prole and ever have to perform a similar task.)

So there I was, counting by 5's when I got a text that said my friend in ADX was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Surgery will be next week. I began to wonder Why am I doing something so meaningless when life-changing stuff was happening all around me? Why is life always a fight? Why do so few fight with me?

I struggled to keep my mind on the truth I know in Christ, not to let the worst-case scenario rule. I was reminded of more wise words I read earlier this week: "Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."

I still have a paper to write (due tomorrow morning) for a professor who refuses to give me an A on anything, a Dance Company rehearsal in ten minutes, and a redneck-themed invite tonight... on top of all that's going on in my head. I know the mind is the field in which the battle is lost or won. When stress comes my way, I should count to 5 and remind myself of the truth.

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream

the one about Owl City

Grr. I can't stand Owl City. I hear he's a Christian, too--he being Adam Young. That's awesome. But he's all I ever hear around here--here being my fraternity, Alpha Gamma Omega. He's talented and yadda yadda, and has earned my wrath only by way of overplay.

*Gives a clearing sigh*

Now, for my inaugural post, I definitely don't want to spend it hating on other artists. I wanna blog about the life of a Christian actor in Hollywood, let you know who I am. I can't fit it in all now, of course, but I'm just gonna be spirit-led here.

I'm a USC student. (FIGHT ON, TROJANS!) I'm studying theatre and I'll be finished in December. This in itself is the cause for much thought. I'd say worry, but I just read my dad's blog "The Key to Peace." He's a pastor; has been pretty much my whole life. Mom, too. Anyways, I have to find, y'know, a place to live and a worthwhile job. Small details, I know, in the grand scheme of things. Problem is, I only have an acting résumé. Granted, this acting résumé is really good, but most jobs in the world don't care that I did some choreography for a hiphop team on campus or played the lead in a grad student's zombie film.

So, I gotta get on that.

Also, I know I've titled my weblog the "Christian Actor." I hope that you'll be able to share in some of the struggles and victories I experience in both the Christian side of that and the actor side. Recently, I started a fast--a three-week "Daniel fast"--based off of what I've been reading in Jentezen Franklin's book (aptly titled) Fasting. This fast is supposed to basically be vegan with no breads or pastas, and is for the express purpose of ministering to God as he gives focus and understanding of the vision he's put in your heart. So far, it's day 3 and I feel there's nothing to eat around here; even worse, I haven't put in any extra time in seeking God yet. In fact, I missed my devotional time yesterday. Additionally, I got a midterm back today; I scored a nauseating 79% on the very test I studied hardest for, of course. On top of that, everyone's singing Owl City songs.

Anyhow, I will not be discouraged. Hark, I will take heart. God is still very much on his throne--although, whatever he's doing up there, I'm honestly not 100% sure--and my accountability partner, screenwriter and fellow Christian actor Trevor Smith, had a very productive and promising meeting with a Hollywood producer who wants nothing more than to help Christian actors get their footing.

Things are at best promising, and at least welcomingly diverting. Costume party tonight, AGO invite tomorrow night, and costume party on Halloween. I have yet to decide what I'm going to dress up as. *Rolls eyes at own bad grammar*. Maybe an owl? Or... *puts pinkie to corner of mouth* ...a city?!

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream