YEAR ONE – NEW YORK TOWN

My apoligies! It’s been almsot two months since I’ve written.  So if you’re still reading…HELLO OUT THERE!!!!!

The past few months have been hectic. They’ve been great and crazy, too. As I’m writing this it is 11:50 pm and in just ten minutes I will celebrating my one year anniversary! No, not marriage. But I’ve survived my first year in New York!  No small feat, there have been some hard times! Somewhere along the last couple of months the world righted itself once more and I found myself with my head once again above the water.

Here’s a brief rundown of what you’ve missed out on!

1) I work at Starbucks now. I’m a barista. At the very edge of Time Square it is an absolutely perfect location. I meet actors, writers, producers, artists, businessmen, and of course tourists. Through Starbucks I met and became friends with the entire cast of Lee Hall’s new play “Pitmen Painters” who are here all the way from England in their Broadway Premeire.The show just came off of a three year run throughout England and Ireland, including a hugely successful run at the National Theatre.  I became good friends with an understudy and he got me tickets to opening night and the opening night afterparty. I lived like a professional actress that night, walked by video cameras and heard people ask each other if they should recognize me. The cast is truly a group of amazing people.  Apart from that they are also incredibly talented actors. And they don’t look down on me for working at Starbucks. They respect me to working hard and following my dream. Who could ask for more?

2) I started filming for a webseries last week. It follows women from all walks of life who have one thing in  common: they all have fallen in love with men in Prison via love letters. I play Melody St. Charles, an earth loving spiritualist who runs a support group for women who, like herself, have fallen in love with convicts. Last week we started filming the intro which we will finish next week along with the music video. Then we’ll get down to the first episode.

3) Super excited about this! I was just asked today to be in a staged reading of an adaptation of Henry 5. I will be playing the Dauphin. He is a spoiled and vain little shit. I can’t wait!

4) I’m still working on a super-secret project, which, once stabilized, I will blather on about incessantly. 

 New York is crazy and I’m dead broke. But I’m happy. And somehow I’m getting by. I started working with this amazing actor (we were in Cyrano together in July) who teaches playwrighting and acting to at-risk kids, kids in prison and halfway houses, etc. Anyway he asked if I would be interested in making some money and I said “of course” so I’ve been doing a couple of guest artists workshops with him around town and am trying to find my voice, soak up his advice and learn to teach a little bit so that I can make a decent income and still audition whenever I want. I’m hoping to make the transition over the next year.

So it’s been one year, and we’ve come completely full circle. 1 year and two weeks ago I was preparing to visit New York and audition for the Flea Theatre. My first New York audition and I was terrified. Two days before I boarded the plane I fell down some stairs and sprained my ankle. I came to New York anyway, cinched up my high heels and gave it my best. I moved here two weeks later to attend a callback and nearly got my first role on my first day. It ended up taking six months to get my first role, but we hit the ground running. WELL, two weeks ago today I auditioned for the Flea Theatre again and AGAIN, two days before my audition I fell down some steps and sprained my ankle. No word yet on a callback. But eery, yeah?

One year ago today I was paying an exorbitant weekly fee to stay in a five-bedroom all to myself, across the street from the projects with no heat. Now, having come to New York much sooner than I expected I didn’t have much in the way of possessions. I had no blanket or pillow. There was no heat and I nearly froze to death. Every night I had to put on every scrap of clothing i brought with me to try and keep warm.  NOW, I have plenty of blankets and pillows, but October is cold, the heat still not yet on and we’re once again thinking we’re freezing to death. And now I’m THREE blocks from the projects. So at least the gunfights are kept down to a dull roar. We call that progress in my book!

I hope all is well and I promise to keep you better posted! I will write again soon. As soon as my head stops spinning. Although I’m not looking for things to slow down at any point in the near future!

Best,

Chel

Enter Title Here

Better cinch up your moccasins, kid.
The Water’s gettin’ high.
And I’m itching for a swim!
Bring on the rapids.
I got nothin to lose.

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle. Don’t let’em tie you down.

You may have heard that I am once again gainfully employed. You may have heard right.
I’ll be adding “Barista” to my list of special skills very soon, indeed.

I tried on a dress {today} that made me feel like Basquiat for about ten minutes.

A fabulous day in Gotham City. Very fitting for a Paulo Nutini song.

Took a very big step in this last fortnight. I attended two equity auditions! One here in New York town and one across the way in NJ! I was terrified, but it went very well and something may very well come of it! I also auditioned to be a background actor in Men in Black III. Sweetness. And black suits.

Also, I don’t know if I’ve told you, but there may be a web series in my future! Some very talented people were seeking other talented people. They called it an audition. I was invited to attend by someone I met in line for the bathroom at another audition. Worked out pretty well.

Ever see a miserable person treat a very good person unfairly? Ever see that good person respond with only kindness? Some people don’t know they’re good. If they did, the world would take on a new shape. Maybe triangular. I could live with that.

People are making decisions all over the world. Maybe even this second. Sometimes I look at those decisions and I wonder. Then I wander. Because I don’t want to be involved in all that. I have a vision sometimes that we’re all wandering through the jungle alone and the brush is very thick. Armed with a machete we each move forward never quite knowing where we’re going. I’m following a heart-beat and I wonder if any one else can hear it. Once in a while I become aware of other people trying to follow their path, too. And sometimes our paths intersect but we never get a good look at one another.  Even still, it’s nice to know that I’m not alone on this journey.

I’ve had this song “Dog Days are Over” by Florence and the Machine stuck in my head these last few days. Fitting, yeah?

I feel like I’ve been wandering through the desert these last couple months. A side-effect of unemployment, perhaps. So I went to the crossroads and made a deal. Fought it out. Won out. Life recently became a roller coaster and I decided to put my hands up in the air. What else is new?

I guess I’m learning not to take life too seriously. And not to expect a conventional career to take shape. I think I’ve been running from the conventional life, afraid it would rear it’s conventional head and trap me. That’s how I was told it happens. I’ve also decided I don’t want to be political. Not right now. I think I’d like to understand the present moment before I try to predict the future. It’s like giving directions to someone when you’re lost. Pointless. So I’ll be content with myself for now.

Things are heating up in New York Town. The summer is the dry season for auditions and now we’re gearing up for the monsoon. I’m ready, friend. Are you?

I think I’ll go dip my hands in some paint now. Talk to you later?

A Day in My Shoes in New York Town (belated).

 I got off to a bad start.

Went to bed early last night and suffered, sweated, was nearly eaten alive by every flying creature outside the mosquito family. It was too hot to close the window and I stood by my principles even though there was no breeze to speak of. I kept spritzing myself with mosquito repellant, to0 tired to notice that it wasn‘t working. I gave up and took to the couch at 3 am thinking it might be cooler in the living room. There I found my roommate who convinced me that I had bed-bugs. We still hadn’t figured out that my particular brand of bug spray only kept the mosquitoes at bay, all the while inviting a host of other pests to enjoy the buffet. “I may never sleep again” I said and then drifted off somewhere near four in the morning.

My alarm was supposed go off at 8 am so I could make a 10 am interview at Dylan’s Candy Bar, the largest candy store in the world. Willy Wonka would go there to die, that’s how good it is. But my alarm didn’t go off and I awoke at 9:45 sharp. Fifteen minutes before their open-call interviews were to start. I washed my face, threw on a dress and ran to the train only to arrive at Dylan’s Candy Bar at 10:59 to find that they had finished up with all the interviews they needed, but please feel free to check Craigslist. Great.

Determined not to waste the day, I envisioned myself as a giant, job-attracting magnet, put on my ramblin’ shoes set off with only one goal: to lose myself in New York Town.

It’s funny how things come full circle right about the time you’ve forgotten what path you had chosen. Ten months ago I would do anything to avoid getting lost. Now it had become my mission. I pranced through the eastern side of mid-town and walked just slow enough to let the tourists gawk at my little bald head. Then I headed for Greenwich Village where I thought my curious look my have more luck finding a job.

New York is a great place to get lost. And I almost succeeded in my goal. If you don’t like one neighborhood walk a few blocks and you’ll find yourself in another. It’s like Sesame Street in that way. No jobs were offered but I found some interesting bookshops and things and dropped off several resumes along my way.

When my feet started to feel more like hooves I knew it was time to hop a train back to Brooklyn Town. So I did. Stopped at the Atlantic Shopping center where I waited for an hour in the express line to buy 4 items. I only got three because one needed a price check and the poor girl supervising the aforementioned express line passed out behind me and hit her head on the floor. I made sure she was breathing and checked her pulse which was a little slow but she had just passed out so let‘s be reasonable. By then another cashier had taken notice and called 911. The girl was semi-conscious (but aren’t we all?) and appeared unable to speak. A couple of firemen arrived and I left once everything looked like it was under control.

Back on the train.

Got off the train.

Started walking home but, lo and behold, there were artists everywhere! Up and down the block. Saw some great stuff. Met some nice humans. Some of them talked to me about my art and what I should do with it. I didn’t tell them what I thought they should do with theirs.

Got some harmonicas today, too. Nice ones. Might loosen up and paint a little later. You’ll surely know about it if I do.

 Oh! And I finagled a spot at the New Jersey Theatre Alliance Combined Auditions! That’s coming up in a few days. I’ll keep you posted.

Best,

Chel Ship

P.S. Having trouble sleeping? I reccomend electric sheep.

HALT

I’m sitting on my bed, writing you this letter and there is a cool breeze blowing through my window. It is rare and wonderful.

I choose to think of my somewhat recent unemployment as a forced summer vacation. That’s what it has been like. Sometimes thrilling, sometimes relaxing, but mostly struggling to relax and struggling to remember that it will end. A struggle with panic, really. I am meditating on finding a job. Intending it.  Trying to take the struggle out of struggling to haul it’s lifeless body to the surface. “You’re drowning!”, my mind shouts! What will you DO? And this brings up more questions: Who am I? What AM I doing? Are we there yet? I struggle with even the most mundane of job applications.  Position Desired? I don’t think they have words for that yet! And I get ONE LITTLE BOX? I’m supposed to cram my dream into one little box? I want to create. THAT is what I want to do!  BUT we live in a Republic and the Capitalist mind needs something to fiddle with for 40 hours a week before it feels it has earned the right to sit under a roof and have a decent meal. So, what shall I fiddle with?

What skills have I? (This is where I usually draw a blank.)
I can type very fast.
I speak reasonably well.
I write decently enough.
My memory, while not nearly as sharp as my tongue, has been adequately honed.
When faced with an obstacle I find creative solutions.
(Ok, maybe we’re getting somewhere…)

Customer Service?  Perhaps. I don’t want to talk about this anymore tonight.

I have decided recently (about a half hour ago on the train, actually) that it is impossible to make declarations about the world I live in. I think I’ve been trying to do that from the outside in. All I can really make declarations about is myself. So what am I struggling with? Since I am a part of this world, one can assume that my struggles must find some parallel with the struggles of the world.  So here I provide an example of my mind: “Find a job…find a job…FIND A JOB!…Who am I?…What is life?…Who the hell am I?…My god, this weather!…Trash, everywhere!…What am I doing?…What’s the point?…I like nature, does that give me a point?…ugh…hmm…water.” There you have it!  A moment in the mind of modern woman.

In other news I’ve decided I’m done with politics. I’d like to be a human being first.

Yours always,

Whoever It Is I Really Am.

P.S.  A note on the title of today’s blog:

A friend told me today that he felt recently that he was in a bit of a rut and since I clearly have felt myself to also be in a rut, I really listened.  He said a mentor or his gave him the advice of HALT or H.A.L.T., rather.  It stands for
Hungry
Angry
Lonely
Tired
When one of those things is not fulfilled, we often feel ourselves to be in a rut.  So, what’s my problem? Hungry, I am not.  Angry, yes. I’m angry the world is falling apart and I can’t do anything about it. I’m angry that my world within that world is falling apart and I can’t do anything about it. I’m angry at myself for being so anxious and impatient. Lonely? Yes, sometimes. Tired? Yes, most of the time. 

As you can see I’ve got some work to do.

Letter to an astronaut.

I found peace somewhere between Chicago and New York. And I didn’t join the Mile High Club. No, I was much higher than that. I was on the fucking moon. And then we landed. Because you always land. Because even a crash-landing is, thank God, still a landing.  I swept downstream with my toes pointed forward, my legs steering me away from trouble. Long legs, he said. Long legs to help you avoid trouble. And long arms. Long arms in case trouble is exactly what you’re looking for. Now go to sleep. Close your eyes and dream this thing away. Don’t give one more thought to this story of mine. You’ve got your own problems, don’t you?

It’s hot. And the veins are popping out on my hands. Sexy, yeah?

Rehearsal was hot and sticky and halting tonight. But it was still rehearsal. So I left happy.

Cyrano opens on Friday and I think we’re all feeling the weight of that date. But things are coming together and the show is looking good.

I’ve been romancing the obscure lately. I was chit-chatting with the cast the other day and I must have said something bizarre because one of the actors shouted “Where are you from?” I didn’t even think, but pointed to my belly button and said “Oh, I don’t know…somewhere near the middle. I was much smaller when I was born.”

I’ve been mistaken for other people lately, too. A homeless man told me yesterday that he watches me on American Idol all the time and last week a man on the platform began snapping his fingers at me, saying “You! You…you run for um…who’s your sponsor? I saw you run in that race! You were great!” What a wild world we live in.

The job search is still on and I spend most of my time applying for jobs and trying not to panic. But I will have a job by the end of the week. I feel good about it.

So I’m doing what every other starving artist is doing. I’m on the dole (dol?). And I’m writing about it, painting about, driving myself wild about it. I’ve begun drawing and painting again. I will attach some photos to the blog.

I took a nasty fall the other day. I fell over the wall at our performance space. It was about a 6-8 foot fall and I had a sword in my hand. Oddly enough I landed in a crouch, poised to slash anyones throat. It was very Don Quixote-esque. Earlier this year I was sleeping in my bed like a corpse. I was dead asleep when I heard “POP” “POP” “POP” and my subconscious told me it was a drive by shooting happening right out my window. I did a ninja role out of bed and woke up crouched on the far side of my bed, my hand out the way one might hold a gun.  This has led me to believe that I’m a secret spy. Or some lobotomized ex-CIA agent.  Speaking of secret spies, they caught some Russian ones here in New York  last week. One of them had been caught while posing for some naked photos. What kind of spy does that? Where would you hide your weapons? (ATTN: that was rhetorical. Don’t give me any of your filth!) Anyway, the best part about all this is that Cali has been mistaken for this spy. Apparently her co-workers think she bears a striking resemblance to that broad. If the authorities question me about her whereabouts, I’ll speak only the truth: She says she works at a diner. Where, I might add, she waits on celebrities and important people all the time. AND, she has a dead-on Russian “accent”. Cali, do you have something you need to tell me?

Well, that’s about all I know! I hope you are doing well and that rash of yours, I hope you got it checked out.  You shouldn’t mess around with things like that. Next thing you know you’ll be down a dark path, parting your hair on the side and walking around with a head full of swiss cheese!

Pictures.

Hells Bells

The lionboy was here again yesterday.
And Alfred Hitchcock has a raging crush on me.
Oh Alfred! You’re too much, I say.
But it’s no use.
We’re to be married tomorrow.

An omen presented itself to me the other day. I sensed that it was a bad omen. Today I’m not so sure. Maybe it’s best omen I’ve come across yet!

If all we have is the present moment, flirting seems like a great way to spend one’s time! If you could measure the energy of every human body on earth from, say, the moon, I bet that flirtations would be signaled with beautiful upswirlings of color or heat. Let’s all flirt a bit more, shall we?I bet the moon would really get a kick out of it.

I saw a woman on the train today. I suppose there were several of them on there. Women, I mean. But this one in particular had really maimed herself with plastic surgeries. Her nose had been tapered. He lips were huge. Her cheekbones bulged. She looked like she no longer had the necessary motor skills to control her face. What a shame! I mean, how big could her nose have actually been? Poor Cyrano led a tragic life, but it was his life! When I was thirteen I considered getting a nose-job, but then I grew up! I realized that every time I look in the mirror I see my father. I see my grandfather and my great-great grandfather. That seems like a lot to throw away for some hope that men would look at me more. And even if you do get your nose trimmed, well that might help you score a date within the first ten minutes of meeting a guy, but you’re still the same bitch underneath! And you will have to square with that inner-bitch one day…

I climbed out on the fire escape last night. Scapegoat was there. You know him, just by another name. He was waiting for me. We lit a spliff and chewed the fat until the wee hours of the morning. Then he up and left. Top secret business, he says.  Or maybe he said “pop secret”. We got very small, indeed.

If you see the lamp-post, tell her I said “hello.” That’s it, just “hello.” She’ll get the picture.
Oh, and tell that beautiful little socialist to stop crying. Enough is enough.

Best,

Hells Bells

Now put down that apricot and give me a hug!

What? All this for little ol’ me? Why thank you! Thank you kindly!

Come on in! Don’t mind the clutter, my maid is down with scurvy…again.

What’s new? You look good! And I mean good…if I may be so forward. I mean it! You look so good you give me the vapors!

If you want, you can call me Chel, the leggy racehorse socialite.

Now, you may have heard it through the grapevine that I recently became unemployed.  I was “let go”, “relieved of my duties”…canned, thrown out with the garbage, laid off, but not fired. Put it how you will, I am no longer gainfully employed. So what’s a girl to do? Well, I’ve been making unemployment look incredibly sexy. Someone was bound to do it, so I stepped up to the plate and pointed to the left field wall. (dramatic enough for you?)

I got some bum advice from an actor chum of mine and trotted down to the Equity building. I’d been told they have a wall dedicated to job-postings. Job postings, I assumed, that one could gander at. So I marched right in and was told to go up to the second floor. I entered a lounge and woman asked if she could help me. I told her I wanted to gander at some job postings. She said, “Are you Equity?” I thought about saying “Hahaha, my name’s not Equity, it’s Chel, and don’t pretend you haven’t heard of me, I’m the talk of the town!” But my words got garbled in the disposal and came out “Not yet.” She said “Then, no, you can’t be here.” I said, “I can’t even gander at the wall?” and she replied “You can’t even stand where you’re standing.” “Very well,” said I, “I’ll come back when I qualify.” I turned on my heel and strutted out but not before I caught a look that paranoia tells me meant, “Yeah, I bet I see you real soon.”

So I trotted down the street to an office dedicated to helping actors find jobs. And I knew that I had to be in one of the unions there, too, but I felt like pushing my luck a little. Hey, I can be charming, why the hell not? And I was successful for about 10 minutes.

So the search continues. And it looks like few are the in the buying mood, but I’m sitting on a goldmine and time will win out.

Trojan Women just finished its first week of a four week run. The show is going really well and I’m having a blast doing it! I also finnagled my way into their next production! HAHA I will be playing Lise  in Cyrano and doing some fight choreogrpahy.

…I saw Hilary Clinton yesterday. She’s not aging well. And I know Saddam Hussein is supposedly dead but I saw him on the train the other day. He had that haunted look in his eyes.

Half of my nuclear family will be arriving here shortly. Oh, and I was sent an addendum: Aunt Pat and Uncle Joe are coming along as well!  They’ve decided to take the train, which I think is ludicrous and at the same time old-fashioned and charming.

So, I hate to rush off but I’ve a got a rockin’ playlist to make so I can get small and clean my house.

Now put down that apricot and give me a hug!

Much love,

Chel, that leggy racehorse socialite everyone is buzzing about.

Hello, Cyberspace!

I had two artistic breakthroughs today!

I lost myself at rehearsal today and really let go. When I felt like me again (after they drug me and drag me off the stage) I had to go sit by the river and cry for a bit. That’s never happened to me before. I can’t say I feel positive or negative about it. That’s just how it was today. Rehearsal is going very well and I’m quite proud of the work my castmates and I are doing.  We open on Friday and I can’t wait! Also, it looks like I’m going to have the opportunity to play a small role in the Hudson Warehouse’s next production! They’re doing Cyrano and were looking for another female for a fight scene so of course I volunteered! Should be fun!

I had a great conversation about art with my friend Rachel yesterday, so I took along my sketchbook when I went to rehearsal.  I felt pretty good and decided to use my downtime to sketch. Lo and behold, I finally sketched a human face that was not in profile! It’s not perfect, but it’s interesting.  And that’s pretty satisfying.  Here are my sketches of the day:

In other news…

I’m reading like a maniac these days. I have been since I moved to New York, really. The 45 minute commute is the perfect amount of time to sit and read (or stand and read, clutching the pole for dear life because the driver is a maniac, as is the usual). Currently I’m reading the new Douglas Preston/Lincoln Child novel “Fever Trees” which is unbelievable! I’m also reading The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle, which is rocking my mind. Good stuff.

The play is getting some good publicity! We made website for Off-Off-Broadway (That’s right!…TWO steps from Broadway!). Check it out: http://www.offoffonline.com/listings.php?id=10490  Also there was a tiny blurb about us in the New York Times last week and this week we appeared in their Events listings! Good stuff.

I hope all well, Cyberspace! You look good and rested.

Best Fishes,

Chel

Well, I’ve been nearly bald for a solid week now!

I must apologize for not writing (that is, if you’re still reading).  The truth is I have been writing. I’ve written this blog three times and trashed it because I didn’t know what to say anymore. So let’s keep it simple.

Thank you for being so supportive of me cutting my hair. It really means a lot to me.  My hair was nearly this short once before when my grandmother dropped me off in one of those salons in Wal-Mart and went off to do some shopping. She told the “stylist” (if you could call this woman that. I wouldn’t. She had no style herself, why should she be in charge of helping me find mine?) that she adored Dorothy Hamill. She said “You know, make her into a Dorothy Hamill type!” When she came back I was in tears. They had given me a bowl-cut.  I was an eleven year old girl who now looked like an 8 year old boy.  Fifth graders can be cruel. They called me “faggot” a lot. I couldn’t be angry with them. I looked like a boy. I wore my brothers hand-me-downs a lot so I dressed like a boy, too. What I didn’t like, was the way I handled it. I didn’t even get mad. Didn’t fight back. Just sat there and took it and then cried. But I’m older now, I thought. I can handle it better.  But I haven’t had to! Everyone has been wonderful about it. Strangers on the street comment on my hair and tell me how wonderful they think it is! My friends and my cast have been even better! Even my mother said “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

And I feel great about it! I honestly had no idea what I looked like until I buzzed all my hair off. I had no idea what my face really looked like, had no idea about the shape of my head.  And I must say I’ve been pleasantly surprised!

So what else is going on?

Rehearsal is going very well! I think I’m finally starting to find the character and the genre of the script. There are a few really good actors in my cast and it has been wonderful getting to know them, learning from them.

I REALLY hate my job. I wonder how much longer they’ll keep me around. But I’m not worried. I’ll find something else. And in the meantime I’m finding my sea-legs here in New York. Learning the ropes and how this crazy game works.

I have several ideas for paintings but have not had the pleasure of actually painting any of them. I have been buying supplies little by little. I suppose when I’m ready it will all come together.

I’m going to yoga as often as possible. And I’m meditating, or trying to. I’ve been a very tense person as long as I can remember and I know that really inhibits creativity. It also makes a person prone to illness. I’ve been experiencing more episodes of my chronic pain and have found yoga to be the best thing I’ve tried yet. HAHA and that’s really saying something.

I’ve been wondering lately why our generation is so obsessed with the past. I thought it was just me. But walk around this city for a while and you’ll see characters from every decade of the 20th century.  It reverberates though our artistic endeavors. Period pieces, Andy Warhol rip-offs. I’m probably  more guilty of that than anyone I know. It seems like Stephen Hawking is the only one talking about the future. And no one seems to be talking about what’s going on right now. Why is that?

Here are some pictures. I hope you’re having a good day.

Here's an angsty pre-haircut pic. The caption should read "Let's get some bourbon and do this thing."

Enter: Crazy 80's Madonna mohawk.

Fairly enjoying this no hair thing.One more for good measure.