"I Love You, Chris Columbus"

This week's been pretty dead acting-wise. The last time I talked with my agent before today was Monday before going to my "Paul Bergie" audition for "I Love You, Beth Cooper". I left him a message after the audition, and went on my merry way.

The apartment directly above mine has been the proverbial pile of manure to my fly of rage in the past months, as it seems someone up there thought themselves as quite the Mike Holmes and decided to pound the every loving material out of their floor. Now, they were very respectful, keeping their activity between the hours of 9-5, which-- wait, that's exactly when I'm trying to sleep. That's a horrible time to be pounding the floor, and it caused me to pound my fists into the headboard in unseen retaliation.

So this week I see a notice saying that "a condo on the 20th floor" will be renovating in the "coming weeks". Fan-damn-tastic. They will be starting the JACKHAMMERING OF THE FLOOR on OR AROUND March 12, and MAY NEED some EXTRA TIME to finish-up on the 13th. It didn't take me long to ascertain that "a condo" was the same condo that the aforementioned screw-it-yourselfer owned. Well, at least they gave us fair warning, which was enough for me call-in a favour and sleep on my buddy/co-worker/classmate's couch in an apartment that didn’t have an audio re-enactment of November 9, 1989. I'm not too good with couches, they’re far too cramped for my liking, so I was lucky when his roommate (and my buddy/classmate as well) let me use his bed while he left for work for the day.

So far this week, I've been without a quiet home to sleep in, I found out that the loan in my RBC account needs to be paid back (I forgot that there's Provincial Loan AND a National Loan ... oops), and I found out where I'll be working security when the contract I'm on is up. Good week to not have to worry about auditioning.

So today in my buddy’s bed, my agent finally calls.
"Are you frustrated yet?"
Now this is one of the reasons I like him so much: he gets it. He understands that there’s a lot of work to be done, but there’s gotta be a reward at some point. Was mine ever coming?
"Uh, yeah," I replied, trying to downplay how I feel.
"Don't be, just keep working hard, and things will click for you."
That's all I can do is work. It's been my philosophy all along, and it's something my agent stands-by. He wants his clients to work hard, because talent and looks can only get you so far. If you've got the work ethic, things WILL happen for you, plain and simple.

He asked me if I wanted to put something on tape for a Manager in LA that he'll be visiting next week. This is the first optional thing he's slid my way, and of course I'll take it. It's for a show called "Harper's Island", this is for the pilot. It's going to be directed by John Turtletaub (National Treasure, National Treasure: Book of Secrets, and National Treasure: Weekend at Lincoln’s). I'm not entirely sure what it's about (the website with the script asks you to pay $10 to download it), so I'll just have to stick with what my sides say, and go from there.

So I tried to get to sleep again, remembering that both "I Love You, Beth Cooper" and "Jennifer's Body" (which I kind of gave-up on, but they never said no outright) begin shooting on Monday. Looks like after auditioning for four different characters, all four of them in front of the esteemed director of “I Love You, Beth Cooper”, I'm coming away with naught but the stories I’ve written here.

The phone woke me up a few hours later and all fears were relieved.

"You just booked yourself your first little gig."
Awesome.

I booked Paul Bergie on "I Love You, Beth Cooper", shooting Wednesday, and paying actor’s scale rate plus 130% buy-out. I don't really know what that means exactly, other than it means more money, which rules.
"This is just the beginning, there will be bigger ones," he told me.
I have no doubts there, and what better way to start-out than, literally, the smallest way an actor CAN start-out? At least this one-liner is memorable.

"Is it something Grammy can watch?" my mom asked.
"A-hah, no," I said. I don't even think she could watch it, but I digress.
"Oh no, you don't saying any bad words, do you?"
"No, but if I had one of the other parts I would."
23, on my own in Vancouver, a working actor, and I still gotta make sure I don't say any naughty words, even if they're written for me and I'm paid to say them.

My folks were happy for me, of course, and I called my brother. It was his birthday today, and he asked if my getting the part was my birthday present to him. I should have said yes.
"How much is the phone bill this month?" (we're on a family plan, and the payments are withdrawn from my account).
"Aw, don't worry about it, I'll pay for it."
"Are you sure? That's expensive."
It is, but when you consider how self-involved I am that I was surprised when Facebook had to remind me that my bro's b-day was coming up, and that I had no idea or plan to get him anything, something expensive should be my penalty.

I talked for a good long time to a good dear friend of mine back home. We have a, a-hem, past together, and have gone lengths of time with nada communicado, but we're cool now. Everything was going great until she asked why I'm not dating. That just stopped me dead. Y'see, I can talk about anything, for hours, but when it comes to that, I'm about as expert as a palsy victim doing brain surgery with a pipe wrench (thank you, Frank Miller.) Seriously, I had a girl ask me why I'm not interested in her, and I just stuttered and stammered, and I don't even think I answered her question at all. I'm not going to delve too far into it, but I'll just say "it's complicated" right now.
"You're just goal-oriented," she said. Yeah, that works. And really, with the schedule I'm maintaining, I hardly have time for myself, let alone someone else. I can't even honestly say I don't WANT to see someone; I just can't. And I can't even articulate my thoughts better here. If I feel like it, I'll write about my internet "dating" history. That'll be good for a laugh.

I came back from the gym and my room-to-the-mate tells me that a guy from the costume department called me, and to call him back before 9pm. It was 9:07pm when I found this out. Did I dare risk it all and call him anyway, throwing caution and my future into the wind? Yeah, I did.
“Costume department, Kevin speaking.”
"Hello, this is Will."
"Uh, refresh my memory again?"
"From 'I Love You, Beth Cooper', I'm playing Paul."
"Oh, Paul BERGIE! Yes, yes, I need to get your sizes."
He hadn't even seen a picture of me yet, so he asked my eye colour, hair colour, my height, approximate weight, and the few things I knew off-hand such as waist, inseam, shoe size, etc. The one thing I didn't know what suit size, so he had to talk me through finding the size on my suit jacket.
"It should be on a white tag in the inside left breast pocket."
"Uh, I don't see a number, it just says 'Joseph and Feiss'"
"Oh, so it's a Moores suit."
Well, now he knows what a high roller I am. I finally found the size, and I let him know the suit was a little big for me. Like, I really stressed that point.
"And, are there any colours you just won't wear?"
"I'll be honest with you man, I really don't care, throw anything on me." Little does he know, he's dealing with the least-fashionable actor he's ever worked with. He let me know he'd call me Monday to arrange for a costume fitting on Tuesday (which I think I get paid for also, have to ask the agent about that).

So after all this acting excitement, I was looking forward to going out to a dinner party for some of my friends in Richmond Saturday night, when I checked the work schedule and see that Saturday's day shift is a "split shift", and I see my usual 2330-0730 has become 2330-1130. You gotta be kidding me. There's no way I can be in Burnaby at 11:30am and then Richmond at 7:30pm and sleep enough that I won't die from working Saturday night and being up all day Sunday to sing in the choir.

I’m shooting on Wednesday, and since work isn't allowing any nights off until the contract is up, on Tuesday night I shall fall violently ill and make a miraculous recovery come the next morning. I’m sorry, but I refuse to pull a “Chasing Stories” and stay up for three straight days for my first day on a professional set. I've taken one night off since starting with the company, and now they aren't allowing anymore? Go right to hell. There are priorities, and I certainly won’t give them to the company that outright lied to us about how they were handling placement after the contract is up.

Obviously I can't quit now. I still need a job, and especially after finding out how much money I owe for my loans, I gotta be careful with my money. But there are alternatives to security.

The job hunt begins again, starting this week.