Acting classes are like kindergarten, only much more expensive.

Wow, I can’t believe it’s been 12 days since I last blogged. These 8 weeks are flying by so quickly, and I have kept very busy with all my schooling, researching, and touristing. Right now I am writing this in the laundry room on the 2^nd floor of my building. I just put in two loads to wash, and, scared shitless of someone stealing the few clothes I own if I leave, I have set up camp down here to wait out my cycles. I am actually writing this on a real notepad with a real pen, and shamefully, five sentences in, my hand already hurts. I would bring my laptop down here and type as I go like usual, but I’m also scared of getting mugged. Not that it’s likely to happen, but you never know about laundry rooms.

I believe I’ve already introduced you to Dean. As I said before, I was paired with him in my Scene Study class and we were given a scene from Good Will Hunting to perform. It went decently well. I just told myself that this was my first big acting challenge: smile and flirt with someone who totally repulsed me in reality, and make it believable. I wonder if that’s what it feels like to be a hooker. Anyway, we ran through the scene several times until we knew the lines by memory. It wasn’t hard. It’s a short scene. But after we laid our scripts to the side, Dean’s pronunciation of certain words got weirder and weirder. One particular word, “arbitrary”, somehow eventually morphed into “obituary.” As in: “Eating caramels is just as obituary as drinking coffee.” I kid you not. Since I am working on curbing my know-it-all-ness, I resolutely bit my tongue and didn’t correct him. Mercifully, someone else in the class noticed and corrected him for me. And then I was finally able to let out all the pent-up laughter that had built up during the last week along with the roars of the rest of the class. The last time we did the scene, the teacher made us yell the whole thing at each other like we were truly in a crowded, noisy bar. It was ridiculous, especially since the actual room we were in was pretty quiet, but afterwards, everyone said the yelling version was much better than before. We have Scene Study class again on Friday, so I’m gonna pack some throat drops just in case he makes us rehearse it that way again.

Speaking of the Scene Study teacher, his class is a constant exercise in restraining my mad bursts of giggles. He reminds us to figure out the character’s innate need, or what drives the character to do what he or she does. Which would be all well and good, except he accompanies this reminder with a hand gesture that is a sort of pounding on the lower part of his stomach with the side of his fist. He walks around the classroom making this gesture, and I’m very sorry, but my sordid mind goes immediately to a very wrong place, and I have to turn away. Go ahead and make the gesture yourself. You’ll see what I mean.

Now, a little about Improv class and Voice/Movement class. These two are similar in that they usually have us bellowing strange sounds, acting absurd, and trying to generate as much silliness as possible. Luckly, silliness is kinda my forte. Seriously, this stuff would not be out of place in an elementary school. Ok, I take that back. Some things happen in class that are definitely not child-appropriate. However, I quite often find myself getting excited when I hear the words "play" and "game," grinning like the cheshire cat while crawling around on the floor like a large land mammal, and wiggling around in my chair when I have to pee. Am I reverting back to an earlier stage of maturity? If this is what acting classes do to you, why didn't I sign up sooner?

In Improv, we play a lot of games like Slow-Motion Tag, the so-called Torture Puppets (where two people are puppets and their movements are controlled by their puppeteers), Therapy (where the “psychiatrist” has to figure out what’s wrong with the “patients”) and other similar games that remind me of a really bad episode of Who’s Line Is It Anyway?  We are beginners, after all. If you throw me a giant invisible cucumber, it may take me a minute to figure out what to do with it.

There’s one game we play a lot, and it’s called, like, “Space Freeze” or something. Everyone gets in a circle, and one person goes to the center and starts acting out some mini-scene with a lot of physical movement. As soon as you get inspired by some motion they made, you yell “FREEZE!” and then take their physical position in the circle and start your own mini-scene, based on the position you froze them in. Sometimes a person’s mini-scene will go on too long, and you can see them getting impatient for someone to freeze them. This happened today, and I froze someone out of pity. As I took her place, stretched out on the floor, I realized I had no idea of what to do. Then, inspiration struck, and I stuck out my leg and started saying things like, “Oh yes, that feels good. A little more to the left. Thank you, I’m going to sleep now.” Too late, I realized what that sounded like, and then someone murmured something like, “Oh, it’s sex.” Um…no. Actually, it was a foot massage. After that, I kept my red-faced self silent for the rest of the game. There are few things worse than badly mimed sex in mixed company. Even if it is supposed to be a foot massage.

In Voice/ Movement class, we usually do some yoga poses to get limbered up, and then the rest of the class is filled with strange voice exercises- Zooooom. Fuh! Pewwwwwww! Bodega Topeka Bodega Topeka- and synchronization games that involve lots of focus and almost no talking. For example, one of these games has us all strolling silently around the room, paying attention to one another, and then we all have to jump up in the air at the exact same time without anyone leading or saying anything. You just have to feel when everyone is going to jump, and then you jump. It sounds a lot more impossible than it really is. It gets less impossible with practice.

In today’s class, we did something really interesting. The teacher told us to all go outside to the street for 20 minutes and observe the way people walk. Then we had to pick someone and learn to imitate their walk, ideally without them noticing what we were doing. Some of us were less stealthy than others. The boy from Turkey, Burak, got yelled at by a guy for following him for three blocks and aping his swagger. Siting, from China, even went so far as to follow her quarry into his office building, though she wisely decided not to get in the elevator with him. My favorite part of the assignment was watching as my classmates walked by, always in a noticeably unusual way. If I looked ahead of them a few feet, it was easy to figure out who they were mimicking. Then we all went back to the classroom and demonstrated our walks for each other. The object of the game was to try and guess what the person was like who the student followed, based solely on the way they walked. Some of them, we nailed. Others were surprising. There were at least two walks we thought belonged to women, but that turned out to belong to men. Pure comedy, baby.

One other class we have is called Monologues. So far, this class has been similar to Improv and Voice/Movement. We’ve done a lot of strange things, like passing a sound around the circle, walking across the room with imagined physical impairments, ranting in gibberish, and even staring at someone in the eyes for five whole minutes without looking away. I try to look at it like this: the more foolish I feel in class, the less foolish I will feel out in the real world. We are going to start working on our first monologue this Friday. I have chosen three that I like out of a book I bought at the Drama Bookshop, an literary oasis of everything theatre and film. My favorite one so far features a girl conversing with her cat, telling him how much she hates him. I can definitely relate to that.

I really want to talk about the awesome friends I have made so far, but that will have to wait for next time. I have to get in bed because class starts early in the morning, and I have to be well-rested so I can slap Bailey good and hard in the face and yell a bad word at him in a lovely scene from When Harry Met Sally that we will be doing in Audition Technique class. Apparently, I am Sally, because I keep winding up with scenes from that movie. Oh well. I'm perfectly happy to follow in Meg Ryan's romantically comedic footsteps. Does this mean I should start working on a remake of Joe vs. the Volcano? You know it’s my favorite movie of all time. I already know all the lines by heart. Or maybe I’ll write Joe: the Sequel in which Joe and Patricia wind up floating to Australia where they meet Crocodile Dundee, and learn to live in peace with nature under his wise tutelage. Because I love Paul Hogan too. You see? I told you so. I positively frolic in silliness.

A Confession

Ok, I am going to fess up. I haven't been completely honest with many of you. Yes, I am in New York, and yes, I am taking classes at the New York Film Academy. However, they aren't filmmaking classes like I told everyone. They are...please try not to laugh...acting classes. I was too embarassed to tell the truth because a 27 year-old leaving a perfectly good job to run off to New York and be an actor is quite laughable. And also, kind of against my personality. Not the running off to places part, obviously. But as a person with very few emotions to begin with, acting should never have even been on the radar. It's possible a reader who doesn't know me all that well might be thinking, 'What is this lack of emotions stuff all about?' It's true. I am mostly dead inside. It has become a long-running joke among those closest to me. In my first two days of class, it has been vocalized more than once that suppressing emotions is a defense mechanism. What I am defending against, I have no idea. But apparently, I have been screwed up from the very beginning. Mom told me that when I was a kid, I used to laugh when other kids got hurt. It mortified her. I'm sure she thought I was a tiny sociopath. I'll bet me cutting my own hair again wasn't the only reason she hid the scissors. And even today, when I am around someone who is openly crying, I feel a horrifying giggle bubbling up inside and I have to turn away so they won't see me grinning. Yes, I am sick. And I am here in New York to get better. And also to make lots of gay friends.

Two days of classes and I have already learned so much. Each day gets three classes. Yesterday my group, section C of the 8-week Acting for Film program, had Audition Technique in the morning, Acting for Film 1 in the afternoon, and Improvisation in the early evening. Today, we had two classes of Acting for Film 1, and then Scene Study. The teachers are mostly very cool, supportive, friendly, and very encouraging. We had one guy today though, the Scene Study teacher, who kept making inappropriate sexual innuendos and gave us all a scene about eating pie to read that definitely wasn’t about eating pie.

I have made a few friends in my classes so far. Section C has all the same classes together and we stay in a cluster the whole day. There are 15 of us, 5 of which are American. The others come from all over: 2 from China, 2 from Brazil, 1 from Australia, 1 from Cuba, 1 from Sweden, 1 from Russia, 1 from Switzerland, and 1 from Turkey. I talk mostly with the Australian girl, Clare, though everyone else is also very nice and interesting. The Chinese girls are- you guessed it- extremely quiet. The Brazilians and Cuban are bubbly. The Europeans are reserved. The Turkish guy didn't show up for class today, so we'll see about him.

The Americans are a varied group. Besides myself, there's a red-headed guy from Texas, Bailey, who's loud and friendly, but is the kind of person who feels the need to fill any silences with banter. The girl from Connecticut is...well...think Bella Swan from the Twilight movie. Actually, her name is Isabelle. She, too, is vampire-obsessed, though please don't compare her to Kristen Stewart, because she "f***ing hates that b***h." In addition, there’s Jay, who claims he's half Jersey/ half PA (which I guess means Pennsylvania) and is all tatted up, with a long black ponytail. And then there's Dean.

Dean is a conundrum. He's full-on Jersey Shore, for one thing. And his last name is Italian, so he is an actual guido. He has this aloof, too-cool-for-school vibe going on. He actually fell asleep in Improv class yesterday. And, bless his heart, he's dumb as a brick. Example: During one game in Improv, we had to give the person next to us the name of an animal that they were going to imitate. I give Dean, who is next to me, the word caribou. He looks at me blankly and says, "What's that?" Ok, so maybe he grew up between four walls in Jersey, sheltered from all influences of wildlife, so I give him the benefit of the doubt. I say, "It's like a big deer," but his face still doesn't change, so I say, "Never mind," and give him rooster instead. Everyone knows what a rooster is, right? So, in the improv scene, Dean has to portray his animal in a bar. A rooster in a bar. Absurdity is key to successful improv, you know. When the improv coach (who totally reminds me of a shorter Idina Menzel) asks him what a rooster's motive might be for going to a bar, he thinks real hard about it and finally proclaims to the whole class that he's at the bar to pick up lady roosters.

---I'll give you a second to think about that---

But in Dean's defense, the kid reads beautifully. Every time someone hands him a scene to read, it comes out like he's said those words a million times over, and won an Oscar for them already. He totally confounds me. He's my partner in the Scene Study class, and we were given a scene from Good Will Hunting, the one where Will and Skylar first meet in the college bar (how 'bout them apples?). It's a good scene, and it's gonna be really hard for me to not do it in a British accent, a la Minnie Driver. But with Dean, it should be ok. As long as he can be bothered to learn his lines.

Acting for Film 1 is my favorite class so far. Today, Bailey and I were picked to be the class guinea pigs (ok, I enthusiastically volunteered) and we spent two and a half hours up in front of the class doing a scene from Pulp Fiction in various ways, as the teacher showed us how to make decisions about our characters, how to move in front of the camera, and how to show the real meaning of the scene with our movements and emotions, rather than through the lines of dialogue. The scene is from the end of the movie, when Mia and Vincent are saying goodbye and Mia finally tells her tomato joke. Being up there and on camera for so long was both exhilarating and exhausting. Bailey and I were made to seduce each other with our eyes, flirt, hold hands, say the lines, and try to keep it from looking silly. I’m certainly no Uma Thurman, and I would have felt more comfortable holding hands with Tinky Winky the Teletubby at first. But as we went through it over and over again, it became easier and looser until finally, I think we kinda got it. I do feel a little bad that nobody else but us two got to act in that class. But I guess the teacher wanted everyone to watch us as we progressed from extremely uncomfortable to slightly less uncomfortable onscreen. I certainly think it was a successful day. Except now, every time Bailey looks at me, he keeps trying to seduce me with his eyes.

I am trying so hard to not be a volunteer hog. Every time a teacher asks for volunteers (and they do it a lot) my legs want to shoot me out of my desk to the front of the room and grab all the practice for myself. This problem is exacerbated by the fact that hardly anyone else ever wants to volunteer. The seconds tick by agonizingly as the teacher looks around the room, asking "Anybody at all?" It's that same feeling I used to get when a new Beanie Baby came out and I was worried my best friend Jami would get it first. I'm just afraid that if I push it too far, the teacher might wind up saying, "Ginny, sit back down. You've had three turns already."

The biggest project I have coming up is a scene for the Acting for Film 1 class, which will be filmed, edited, and then added to our class reel of finished work. This time my partner is Jay, the ponytailed tattoo canvas, and we will be performing a scene from When Harry Met Sally. As soon as the teacher mentioned our scene was gonna come from that movie, I started having a moment of whimpering wooziness. I’m sure you can guess why. What is the one scene that jumps into your head when you think of that movie? Well, thank the gods of fledgling actors, the teacher didn’t give us that scene. Hell, I had trouble making googly eyes at Bailey. There’s no way I’m ready to jump that far in yet. Instead, he gave us a scene about days-of-the-week underpants, which is slightly less impossible. And if you haven’t seen the movie and don’t have a clue about the infamous scene which threw me into a conniption fit, well, first of all, shame on you. Second of all, get thyself to YouTube speedy quick and type in “I’ll have what she’s having.” Just tuck the kiddos in bed first.

Oh, New York! What have you done to me already?

Washington Heights. Somehow I never imagined my first New York experience to look quite like this. As in brown. And Spanish-speaking. In order to save as much money as possible, I signed up for a weekly room rental that, for New York, is dirt cheap. Location really must be everything in real estate, because my neighborhood makes Harlem look fancy. Plus, it's really freakin far away from all the stuff I need, tucked up in the far north-western corner of Manhattan. The room is really nice and big, and has an incredible view from the balcony (perched in the 28th floor), however, I feel like I'm walking through Mexico City when I get out of the subway. But, as you all know, I am a little bit brown under all this whiteness, so as long as the cabrones keep their "hey mami mamis" to themselves, I feel right at home.

I do want to get my own place as soon as possible though. I have never been good at living with people. The family whose extra room I am renting is from the Dominican Republic and they keep trying to feed me, which is nice, but they fry everything! Even the cheese! Which is amazing, by the way. Why don't we fry cheese at home? Anyway, living here with them is fine for the meantime, but as soon as I find a way to start generating some income, I will be scouring Craigslist for a studio or a small one bedroom apartment in lower Manhattan. Or possibly west Brooklyn. As long as I can figure out the subway.

Speaking of the subway, Madrid's shining metro system must have really spoiled me because the New York version makes hardly any sense to me at all. I've about conquered the number 1 train line, but everything else is a mess. Some trains only stop at certain stations, some stations only operate at certain times, certain platforms are closed for maintenance so you can only go in one direction from that station...at least my MetroCard has yet to let me down. $104 per month for unlimited train and bus rides all over the city! Beats the hell out of the $500+ I was spending every month to maintain my car. I'm sure I'll figure it all out eventually. One can only accidently wind up in Yonkers so many times.

Times Square is not on my list of favorite places in New York. Too many freakin tourists. Central Park, however, is. I think I may take my little box of oil pastels with me on a park stroll tomorrow and play artist under a tree somewhere. This park is so big, there are places where you cease to see skyscrapers. Also, I like Rockefeller Center. I think it's because, at any given time, Tina Fey might be inside. And I just love that lady.

It took every ounce of willpower I had to walk out of American Girl Place empty-handed yesterday. Since I was 8 or 9 years old, I have held a strong devotion for Pleasant Company and their slew of overpriced 18 inch dolls. I actually have Felicity, "a spunky young girl growing up in colonial Williamsburg" and quite a few of her accessories. I also subscribed to American Girl magazine until I was at least 15, and spent many a summer evening punching out the paper dolls that came with each issue or making bubble wands out of household materials just like the "do it yourself" section instructed. So when I found the New York store, on the corner of 5th Avenue and 49th Street, I was almost afraid to go inside. I wanted to be a little girl again so that I wouldn't feel like such a goofball drooling over the tiny soccer cleats or doll-sized ukuleles. Yes, they make doll ukuleles. Somehow, I managed to keep the majority of saliva inside my mouth and all my money in my wallet. But all is not lost. I have applied for three open job positions at that store, and employees get a 30% discount! So don't worry, Felicity. I'm sure you'll have a closet-full of new outfits before long. One way or another.

I started my program at the New York Film Academy today. Registration was from 10 till 2, and overachiever that I am, I showed up at 10 to register, which took all of three minutes. So, I had to kill time till orientation at 3. I walked around Union Square, bought some apples, ate one, then found my way to the Strand bookstore, which, for bibliophiles like me, is a giant warehouse of ecstasy. They boast "18 miles of books," many of which are used and cheapish. I bought six, including the first book of my new favorite young adult series The Hunger Games. Seriously, those of you suffering from Harry Potter and Twilight withdrawal, this is your new crack. During orientation, in which all 150 or so of us 8-weekers (15 of which were actually not international students) had to pass around a microphone and introduce ourselves and tell which program we were in, I learned a bit about the academy and started getting real excited. Unfortunately, my classes don't start till Wednesday, and we only have classes three to four days a week, but the days we do go, we're in class from 9am till 5 or 6pm. And the director told us the other days would probably be filled up with working on student projects. I am really excited about this, and I'm gonna work harder than I ever have worked so I will be successful in the film industry. I've never really worked that hard at anything before. Things have always just come naturally to me. And if they didn't come naturally, I didn't do them. I have a feeling this is not going to come as naturally as I'm accustomed to, and I am glad. Things are more valuable if you work really hard for them, you know. I am expecting a full-on bottom kicking, and I can't wait.