Last night, I tried to convince my brain that it should shut the hell up and let me go to sleep early, because I had to wake up at 5am no matter what.
It didn't cooperate. It sang songs to me, wrote little stories, and told me jokes until almost midnight. Yes, I am my brain's bitch. (Don't worry, I plan to get all burning bed on it with some local craft beers before the week is over. HA! WHO'S LAUGHING NOW, BRAIN?!)
I'm on my lunch break right now, marveling at how weird it is to live in the future, where I can post to my blog from my dressing room. I suppose this isn't that strange, really, but I've been doing this since the days when we had to call Buster Keaton "Mister Keaton" and Mary Pickford wouldn't let you look her in the eye unless you were Douglas Fairbanks.
Yeah, those were crazy days, and even though I tried my best, I never got Louise Brooks to come home with me. I still don't think talking pictures will ever really catch on.
...did I mention I got about 5 hours of sleep and I've been working in a hot van while wearing a hoodie since 8 this morning? Everything is incredibly funny to me right now.
Anyway, about my day so far: Most scripts have a scene that makes an actor go, "WOW, I really want to play this character so I can do that scene." This morning, I got to do that scene, and it was as challenging, fun, and ultimately rewarding as I thought it would be. I can't wait to see it in the final cut of the show.
Before we did that scene, I had a brief meeting with the director, because I wanted to make sure that my take on this character and his vision for the character had more in common than not. I performed some of the more important lines, talked about the arc I'd created in my mind, and made sure that we were on the same page.
He nodded while I did my thing, and when I was done, there was a long pause. I started to get a little nervous, and wondered if I was about to be sent home with a set of steak knives.
"You own this guy," he said.
So, I got that going for me, which is nice.