Why do I meet such interesting people?

I know it's incredibly hard to believe, but I've never taken any type of creative writing course. However, I have been in this world for a little while and I've learned a few things. One of which is this sacred rule that I think that all storytellers would agree with: Sex sells. So without any further ado, here is the story of how I spent an evening with a porn star.

Some friends of mine and I were hanging out in one of those chic, New York City nightclubs. I don't even remember which one it was. Let's just say Spa. As if it really matters. I mean they're all the same. But I'll save that for another blog.

So we're hanging out in Spa. We managed to get in because we got there RIDICULOUSLY early. Something like 8pm. Which is crazy for clubbing. But the bouncers aren't nearly as obnoxious if you show up early. Just a little tip for the youngsters out there still playing the game.

Then, around 10 or 11ish, something very weird happens. The club stops the music, turns on all the lights, and the cops raid the place. But it's probably the friendliest raid that I had ever seen. They're not kicking anybody out. They're just hanging around. They're not letting anyone in and the biggest tragedy of all is that they've stopped serving drinks.

We asked a few questions and we didn't get any real answers. Something about underage drinking maybe? Who knows. The point was, they weren't closing the club, but they also weren't serving again for another hour or two.

So I said to my people let's head down the street to Bar 13 because a friend of mine was the owner. After a little discussion we decided to do just that. Here's where things get a little more interesting. Outside a huge line had formed. As we're walking out, this incredibly beautiful woman walks up to us asks us what was going on inside.

Now here's the thing. When I say beautiful, it was the type of beautiful that could only be achieved with a lot of, "help." I'm talking a lot. Ridiculously blond, heavy makeup, and a very expensive boob job. Clearly she was from L.A.

We told her what was going on and she said, "Well do you know of any other places around here?" "Well, as a matter of fact," I said, "we're on our way to a friend's place down the street? If you'd like, you can join us." Please note: the words of the previous statement are accurate but they were not delivered in any, "smooth" manner whatsoever. It was very timid and uncool rap I was laying down. However, I will have to admit that I was the only one in the group with the balls to say them. So good for me. Regardless of how I said the words, she agreed to join us.

Next came the part where we're all thinking the same thing but really didn't know how to say it. And we certainly didn't want just come out and ask. I mean how exactly do you ask someone if they're a porn star. You just can't win in that scenario. So I proceeded to ask a series of more general questions in order to suss out her background. I started with her name. In a nasally voice she said, "Brittany." In my mind I simply said to myself, "Of course it is. What else would it be." I asked her where she from from. "Los Angeles." (2 for 2. Getting a little warmer) "Are you a civilian or an actor?" I asked. "Neither," she said. (The cat and mouse game continued) "Sooooooooooooo, what do you do for a living?," I proceeded. "I own an Internet company," she replied. (Oh she was a sly one.) I chose to leave it at that.

Yet another thing that I've learned in this process that is life is that cliffhangers are far more interesting to write than they are to read. At least as far as this blog is concerned. And since this story is going to take way too long for one sitting, I will end this session with my new favorite words.

To be continued

Why am I still an actor? (The Series Finale)

First and foremost, let me extend my deepest and most heartfelt apologies to all 5 of my readers. (Myself included) In the course of living my life, I've failed to maintain the process of narrating my life story. That New York City lifestyle wears a brother out sometimes. I will now continue and hopefully it will have been worth the wait.

So, when we last left our anti-hero, he was fresh off of his triumphant victory of conquering his fear of performing. However, he was also painfully aware that the life of an artist was not a particularly stable profession. Therefore, he decided to try his luck in the real world. It is also, at this point, where our narrator will switch to the first person format as he will only confuse himself with this current storytelling device.

I graduated from the University of Rochester with my Bachelor's of Science in Mechanical Engineering. (As I may have mentioned once or twice) Now at the time, the job market for Engineers wasn't exactly booming. There were several of my friends who ended up moving back home after they graduated from college. I, on the other hand, had absolutely no interest in moving back home. I had sipped from the mighty rivers of independence in college and I wanted to continue to quench my enormous thirst for liberty. Even if it meant drowning in it.

I decided to stay in the lovely city of Rochester, NY. I figured that I would be just as capable of searching for a job from there as from home. I also figured that if I lived there, I would increase my chances of scoring a job at Xerox or Kodak, who just so happened to have their corporate headquarters in Rochester. Lastly, as an added bonus, because I had such a wonderful debut, the Artistic Director of the U of R allowed me to continue to perform in school plays even though I had already graduated.

It was during these two years in Rochester that the great shifting in my mind occurred. You know the one. From sane to insane. What happened was, after a few odd jobs, I finally managed to land a gig at Xerox. However, it wasn't as a Engineer. It was for a position called a System Key Operator. Which, for you non-nerds, is a Product Tester. Which, if you're still confused, can also be referred to as a, "Person for Shitting On." But it was okay, because I was working in Xerox. I was making connections. In fact, I was even promoted to, "Senior Person for Shitting On." Which made me and my whole family proud.

But at the same time, I was leading this wonderful double life. During the day, I worked my boring job testing a copy machine and by night I was, "Actor Man." Yes, Actor Man. I could make you laugh...I could make you cry...I could make you think. It was more than just fun. It was glorious.

However, it wasn't all a bed of roses either. Oh no. It took a lot of work to be an actor. I had to deal with other crazy people like myself. I had to rehearse for very long hours. I was constantly pushing myself to be better. So in the end, even if I was giving a good performance, I was never really satisfied. Thus, fanning the flames of my neurosis.

And yet, after all of that; After the constant pressure that I was putting on myself to perform; After working so hard for day and night and still not feeling that I got it quite right; After all of that self inflicted, psychological pain, I came to a very bizarre realization. I realized that despite all of that, I loved it. Plain and simple.

I loved the long hours in rehearsal. I loved trying to find a character. I loved sitting down with pages and pages of dialogue and trying to cram those words into my head. I loved connecting with people through my art form. Not just my fellow actors, but the audience members as well. When you get it right, there is a beautiful connection with everyone in the room. It's like a perfectly tuned musical instrument. It's a collection of voices in perfect harmony. And not only was I a part of it. I helped to create it.

And then I realized that not only did I love to act, but that I hated Engineering.

Granted, I wasn't technically an Engineer with Xerox, but I worked with plenty of them. And I can definitely tell you this: While several of them are lovely people, they are not my crowd. I do not relate to what they are doing. I never did. Ironically, the biggest reason that I went into Engineering in the first place, was because I wanted a degree that would provide me with a real job when I graduated. But since I never really cared for the subject matter, I didn't exactly excel in it. Thus, I ended up in the exact position that I wanted to avoid. But really, in the end, it all just felt like bullshit.

So I decided that it was time to make my hobby into my career. I loaded up the truck and moved to New York City.

Now it's been many years later and I can't really say that I've, "made it." (I mean, I did make it hear from Rochester. That's a victory) I have been living in this city for over 10 years. But I'm definitely not making my living as an actor. So why do I still do it? Why do I keep coming back?

Well Kenji, (if that is your real name) maybe I still haven't grown up. Maybe I'm living in a bit of a fantasy world. I do know that I've changed a lot over the years. I've matured in many ways and I've learned a lot of lessons. But one thing has remained the same. And it's a very simple answer that has taken me 3 chapters to tell.

I love it. I still love it. Here it is, some 14 years later since that first play and I still love doing it. I know it's not easy. It never was. I know that there are no guarantees. There never are with anything really. I damn sure know that it's not perfect. Believe me, I know there's a lot of bullshit in the world of acting. I know. Oh do I know.

But I've learned more and more over the years that that's what real love is. It's not just about the good times. It's not just about the glamorous lifestyle that a fortunate few get to have. It's also about the hard work that you're willing to put into it. The commitment that your willing to make in order to become better. At the end of the day, when I've gotten the opportunity to work, after I've waded through all of the bullshit, after I put myself through the psychological hell to, "get it right," when all that is said and done, and if I'm really lucky, I get to experience that moment of perfect harmony. In fact, the more that I do it, more I get to achieve those very special moments. And that's what makes it worth it.

Don't get me wrong, I still want to get paid. But it can't be the primary motivation. A comfortable life financially, in itself, does not equal happiness. How can I enjoy the money if I'm miserable. I must live the life of my dreams. I only get one.

Listen to your heart...Trust your instincts...Find your way.

Next Blog: The story of how me and a friend of mine hung out with a Porn Star