I woke up at 5 a.m. It was dark out. I got up. I showered. I dressed – it didn’t matter what I wore, I just needed to be comfortable since I could be standing all day – so I just wore a tank top, my hippie embroidered pants that I love, and flip flops. It also didn’t matter what I looked like (hard to imagine in this looks-based business) so I just put on a bit of mascara. It’s always weird to put on makeup before the sun rises. It feels illicit. Like, frankly, you are up to NO GOOD.
I left the house, carrying my bookbag. That was all I needed. My notebook, my wallet, my Burts Bees lip stuff, my sunglasses, my iPod, my Rasputin book (for the ride home), and my scripts which had been emailed to me at 11 pm the night before. The dawn was just happening … the hot of the day was still a couple hours in the future – the dawn was cool, dewy, infused with pink and lavendar. The Hudson glowed a dull silver to my right. The city looked quiet, slumbering.
The streets are empty that time of day, except for dog-walkers. I love the dawn.
I got onto a nearly empty bus and went into the city. I made my way to Penn Station. With 10 minutes to spare. Penn Station was packed with travelers, all of whom had also been up since 5 a.m.
Got on the 7 a.m. train to Philly. I had a huge Dunkin Donuts coffee, and my scripts to be studied on the train. I had a seat to myself so I spread out. I rehearsed, to myself – the lines I had just received the night before. It was 15 pages of text – so that gives you some idea of the weirdness of this life. I familiarized myself with each script. I made split-second decisions about how to read them. I had to be a formal narrator, I had to be a snooty English lady, I had to be my colloquial casual self, I had to be a storyteller. Okay. No problem. I can do all of that.
8:27. Disembarked at 30th Street Station in Philly. Brushed my teeth in the restroom there – thinking of poor little Lukas Haas hiding in the stall from Danny Glover. Had a moment with the massive angel as well. I love that train station.
Took a cab to the studio. Met the sound guys. Uhm – I love sound guys. In general. Haven’t met a sound guy I don’t like. They are always kind of scruffy, sweet, with black senses of humor. They are the low man on the totem pole, in this here biz – and yet nobody is more important than them. Every job I’ve ever done, I’ve bonded with the dude who holds the boom. Seriously. They are always cool people.
Then we got to work. We had a lot to do. I got to sit, so that was cool. There was the mike, and we were in this tiny enclosed quiet room on the 12th floor. We went script by script. So basically I spoke all day. Also, there’s a ton of repetition. Sometimes you mess up a word or two, or you flub your lines. You have to go back and repeat. Or sometimes it’s an equipment issue – and your take was perfect – but a plane flew by overhead, or the mike didn’t work, or whatever. So it’s all about repetition and being perfect every time. This is no big deal to me. I get into Concentration Mode, where – literally – a bomb could go off next door, and I would keep going with my script. One of the sound dudes said to me, admiringly, “You do it the same way every time. You don’t get bored? I would be so bored. It takes practice to do what you do, huh?” So sweet. A lot of times the fact that concentration takes actual practice isn’t – acknowledged. I don’t need it to be acknowledged. I feel it’s just a part of the job. Actors should be able to concentrate under all conditions. I prefer a quiet calm space to concentrate – but, if necessary, I can concentrate on a busy sidewalk surrounded by jackhammers. And yeah, that takes practice. So that was sweet that he said that.
Hours went by. I was snooty English lady. I did that one in one take. That was fun. I did all the scripts – we checked them off – one by one. NEXT.
It was a good day’s work. I get lost in the work. I forget to think: “Uhm. I am in Philadelphia. On Walnut Street. In a random makeshift studio. With a mike and sound equipment. Reading these scripts. And uhm … wait … where am I right now??” It’s all about the task at hand. I love that.
We were done at 2 p.m. Shook hands all around. They got what they needed. Which is all I care about. I came down, did what they needed, and now they can move on with their work. It’s cool. It’s cool to be able to do that, be part of a collaboration – even if it’s just a small part of it. Oh, and let’s not forget. It’s nice to get a paycheck for all of this as well. That’s the nicest part.
Then – grabbed a cab – back to 30th Street Station – walked in – got on the next train out, which was boarding at that very moment. I arrived in New York at 5 p.m. Having read a couple chapters of my awesome book about Rasputin on the ride home, my iPod blasting in my ears. (Liz Phair, if you’re interested.)
Took a bus back across the river to my town. The sun was juuuuuust starting to go down. I came back into my apartment – and – naturally – it felt like I had been gone for way longer than a day. Felt like I had to check all of my plants for sign of impending DEATH. But no. I had been gone for 10 hours.
Sat down in my comfy chair, turned on my fan, put my feet up, had an icy cold beer, and read about Rasputin until it was time for bed.
Life is good. And weird!
yes sheila, that life sounds good and at times challenging. Or at least better than having to wear “flair”, having 5 different bosses, or making sure that your TPS reports are all squared away. See, you never have to worry about “getting that memo!” You show up, do your job, and are rewarded (both monetarily and personally)…what could be better than that!
And at the end of a day (especially the days we’ve had in the Northeast lately), what could be better than an ice-cold beer? Nothing, except maybe good company to share it with.
sounds like a good and productive day. i’d love to hear them.
Chuck – ah, but I wasn’t alone with my beer. I was hanging out with stinky-bearded glaring-eyed Rasputin! He’s not a lot of fun but he sure is interesting!
in the words of Budweiser..True..True! and I must ask..was the beer a Guinness, or just standard fare?
Oh no. Not a Guinness. I only drink Guinness on a regular basis when in Ireland. It’s too heavy for me, otherwise, too rich for laidback beer-drinking enjoyment. I enjoy the concept of it, but it’s more like a meal – and without the Irish pub ritual surrounding it, I am uninterested.
It was a Bass. Love Bass.
Oh – and while yes, it is nice to share an end of day beer with someone – I’m a solitude whore. I need tons of alone time to keep my emotional equilibrium – so I was totally happy to come home, to my quiet breezy apartment, and be by myself.
The Bass is good.
I have never had the true ritual, of which you speak, but I have a great Irish family that has taken me in as one of their own and shown me the world of Guinness. I agree it is a meal, but it is great to have surrounded by this family during a grand occasion (ie: weedings, birthday, SuperBowl, World Cup). That and, of course, Jameson. But as I was recently told…I need to take my skirt off and stop drinking with ginger ale. Oh well, I call it a learning curve. Great fun.
It’s always weird to put on makeup before the sun rises. It feels illicit. Like, frankly, you are up to NO GOOD.
Now that’s quotable.
When a Guinness is “too rich for laidback beer-drinking enjoyment”, and bass is on hand, the solution is simple. Mix ’em, and thus give birth to another Black ‘n Tan.
Preferably followed by another. And another. And.. well, you get the idea.
Lion – hahahaha very true!!
Aaahhhhhhhh, Mr. Lion, I knew I loved you, deep down. I do loves me a black and tan!! The very best of both worlds!!!!!!!!!!
never had black & tan, am i missing something?
yes alli, yes you are! You must try one, and as Mr. Lion stated another, then another, and another.
Cool, Sheila! Was this radio work? The next time I hear a snooty English lady in a commercial, I shall pull over and cheer!
Fun!
I did voice-over work (commercials and industrial vids) for a living for about a year once. I *loved* it. Same sort of gig, more or less, that you describe (sans the mascara, and the coffee – can’t drink coffee and do VO, for some reason). I kinda miss the life, although it’d be hard to do with kids…
I mean, I wasn’t an actor, but I played one on the radio…
Haven’t met a sound guy I don’t like. They are always kind of scruffy, sweet, with black senses of humor. They are the low man on the totem pole, in this here biz – and yet nobody is more important than them.
They’re the low man on the totem pole in the music dodge, too. You’d think musicians would realize that, having the power to make you really suck (and my favorite soundman from the old days actually wrote “SUCK” on a piece of adhesive tape and stuck it on the board next to some random knob he never actually used), the sound man is someone you want on your good side.
I make a point of at least saying hey howdy hey and talking shop with every new one I meet when I have a club gig or something. I did meet one sound man who was a jerk once, but he was an acid casualty who accused me of stealing a direct box. I had to pick it up out of the pile of cables on the stage and shove it under his nose to get him to shut up.
I am an inveterate Guinness drinker, but in the summer I usually lighten up. Lately it’s been Shiner Bock. I haven’t ordered a Black & Tan in years–was talked out of it by the owner of Moriarty’s, a little place in downtown Cleveland that caters mostly to the City Hall & Justice Center crowd (so insular that it generally isn’t open weekends–I’m an interloper with that crowd, the university is what brings me downtown).
yes alli, yes you are! You must try one, and as Mr. Lion stated another, then another, and another.
shall have to do that in the near future… :-)
Beer / Calories
Foster’s Lager / 156
Corona Extra / 148
Budweiser / 143
Coors Original / 148
Guinness Draught / 125
Drinking Guinness is like drinking light beer, how can you resist? (http://www.realbeer.com/edu/health/calories.php)
WOW! What a cool life you must lead. Stuck to my riggid work life where I see the same faces day in day out. I’m completely jealous of yours.