Words to the wise -
If you are ever in Jury Selection and, while being interviewed, you are asked if you've ever been arrested on criminal charges and you have... just admit it. My Jury Day started off with the first prospective juror claiming to have no prior arrests, but after a side bar it was revealed that the guy had, indeed, been arrested. 3 Times! It was so surreal.
The Judge gave the man several opportunities to change his story, and admit the truth. He didn't. The Judge reminded him that he was under oath and asked him again. The man said, "No, Your Honor." The Judge checked again to be absolutely positive. The man insisted that he didn't remember ever being arrested.
Didn't remember?
The Judge then held up police reports and one by one went down the guys sheet; 3 prior arrests. After each one the guy said, "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that." Well, he won't be serving on the Jury because I'm pretty sure he's being charged with 3 counts of Perjury.
I, on the other hand, was selected as Juror and now must track down to the Southside for the next few days and sit through the trial, and get paid for my civic duty. $17.20 a day.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Sunday, February 19, 2006
A Westside Story!
Sometimes I leap before I look. It happens. You live you learn, you move on to your next potential blunder.
Several weeks ago I found a listing in the paper for a writing competition, or more specifically a monologue-writing competition. Interested writers and actors were asked to mail in a postcard with their information and the first however many would be contacted. Several days later I received an email from the organizer. I was in; I was to be one of the featured writers in the 3rd annual Monodogs of War Monologue Competition.
Here's how it works - On the evening of February 18th, all involved parties were to show up at this Arts Center at or around 5:30. The organizer, Mr. Happy, we'll call him, was then to randomly select an actor who would then randomly select a writer who, in turn, would randomly select a quote. The actor and writer would then have 35 minutes to collaborate and create a monologue. The 16 pairs would then present their work to a panel of judges, the field would be cut into half and then a second round would determine the top 3 winners, all of whom would receive prizes for their effort.
Sound simple enough?
Here's the reality - The arts center is a lovely little church which was bought by the city and used for community activities. It is located on the corner of As Far West As I've Ever Been Without Hitting An Ocean! & Where The Hell Are We? This group, this theatre company feels that the Eastside of Chicago gets too much action. They're going to start a quality theatre scene on the far, far, far, far Westside. Good for them. I'm not a geographical snob. I have no gang affiliations which would force me to 'hate' on those outside of my 'turf'. I am, however, a rider of public transportation and an 80 minute, round-trip bus ride in sub-zero weather would suck the creative enthusiasm out of the most eager of camp counselors.
We arrive and the other participants stroll in as close to 5:30/6:00 as possible. Mr. Happy makes many jokes about the punctuality of actors, which are appreciated immensely by the gaggle of Theatre-Geeks who have been selected for this endeavor. Pew after pew of Theatre Geeks. Anyway, the evening begins. Pairs are selected. 35 five minutes fly by* and we all reconvene in the church. 16 monologues are performed. Some good. Some bad. Some incredibly detailed, and lengthy for the amount of time allowed. Some, I suspect, were even improvised on the spot. (Call me cynical but when you perform a brand new 5 minute monologue without looking at the script once ore even turning 1 page I think you're cheating.)
So did I make it to round 2?
Did I stand atop the podium at the end of the night; triumphant?
No. I left before the second round was even announced. 3 hours had passed since I first walked through the doors, and I was bouncing off the walls. 3 hours and we still had another round to go. 3 hours and the end was nowhere in sight. I couldn't take it. I turned to my incredibly loving, supportive, and patient girlfriend and said, "We're out!" We were, indeed. out.
I'm not too worried about it. My monologue wouldn't have gotten me to the next round anyway. My actress and I both agreed we had tried to do too much. 35 minutes is the blink of an eye when you're trying to collaborate, develop backstory, character, etc. Before we knew it we were being hustled back into the competition. My piece? A young woman, called into the rest home of her ailing father, and forced to wait for answers, contemplates her father's recent decline and his love of chess. It was to be funny, moving, and, above all, longer than the 4 paragraphs that I managed to scratch out for my unfortunate actress.
I did it to myself. It was a writing 'competition' so I took it too seriously. I wanted to create. I wanted to flex my artistic muscles. I wanted substance.
I would have been better off with celebrity references, bodily functions and dwarf jokes. Don't get me wrong. Some of the pieces were quite good. There were three, in fact, that I was both truly impressed by and jealous of the writing. I gave my actress 4 paragraphs of exposition, and never even penned the monologue I was planning.
I should have known things weren't going to meet my expectations when the 'prizes' were revealed to be stuffed animals, writng pads, pens, and assorted sundry. Also, for the third year of a 'production' there was a lot of wasted time. A lot of in between. A lot of spinning our wheels. Call me ADD but I like to get in, be entertained, and get out. I don't need Mr. Happy standing up and cracking private jokes with company members, or repeatedly talking up the North Westside which only reminded me how long it was going to take me to get home again in the freezing cold.
So it was a disappointing night. That's my incredibly long post about my incredibly long night. Be glad you are only reading about it.
* During the 35 minute writing process the audience, a few parents & a handful of significant others, were 'entertained' by a musician and a stand up comedian who, according to my sources, was the complete, and total opposite of funny. I'm thankful none of my friends showed up to support me just because they never would have forgiven me.
Several weeks ago I found a listing in the paper for a writing competition, or more specifically a monologue-writing competition. Interested writers and actors were asked to mail in a postcard with their information and the first however many would be contacted. Several days later I received an email from the organizer. I was in; I was to be one of the featured writers in the 3rd annual Monodogs of War Monologue Competition.
Here's how it works - On the evening of February 18th, all involved parties were to show up at this Arts Center at or around 5:30. The organizer, Mr. Happy, we'll call him, was then to randomly select an actor who would then randomly select a writer who, in turn, would randomly select a quote. The actor and writer would then have 35 minutes to collaborate and create a monologue. The 16 pairs would then present their work to a panel of judges, the field would be cut into half and then a second round would determine the top 3 winners, all of whom would receive prizes for their effort.
Sound simple enough?
Here's the reality - The arts center is a lovely little church which was bought by the city and used for community activities. It is located on the corner of As Far West As I've Ever Been Without Hitting An Ocean! & Where The Hell Are We? This group, this theatre company feels that the Eastside of Chicago gets too much action. They're going to start a quality theatre scene on the far, far, far, far Westside. Good for them. I'm not a geographical snob. I have no gang affiliations which would force me to 'hate' on those outside of my 'turf'. I am, however, a rider of public transportation and an 80 minute, round-trip bus ride in sub-zero weather would suck the creative enthusiasm out of the most eager of camp counselors.
We arrive and the other participants stroll in as close to 5:30/6:00 as possible. Mr. Happy makes many jokes about the punctuality of actors, which are appreciated immensely by the gaggle of Theatre-Geeks who have been selected for this endeavor. Pew after pew of Theatre Geeks. Anyway, the evening begins. Pairs are selected. 35 five minutes fly by* and we all reconvene in the church. 16 monologues are performed. Some good. Some bad. Some incredibly detailed, and lengthy for the amount of time allowed. Some, I suspect, were even improvised on the spot. (Call me cynical but when you perform a brand new 5 minute monologue without looking at the script once ore even turning 1 page I think you're cheating.)
So did I make it to round 2?
Did I stand atop the podium at the end of the night; triumphant?
No. I left before the second round was even announced. 3 hours had passed since I first walked through the doors, and I was bouncing off the walls. 3 hours and we still had another round to go. 3 hours and the end was nowhere in sight. I couldn't take it. I turned to my incredibly loving, supportive, and patient girlfriend and said, "We're out!" We were, indeed. out.
I'm not too worried about it. My monologue wouldn't have gotten me to the next round anyway. My actress and I both agreed we had tried to do too much. 35 minutes is the blink of an eye when you're trying to collaborate, develop backstory, character, etc. Before we knew it we were being hustled back into the competition. My piece? A young woman, called into the rest home of her ailing father, and forced to wait for answers, contemplates her father's recent decline and his love of chess. It was to be funny, moving, and, above all, longer than the 4 paragraphs that I managed to scratch out for my unfortunate actress.
I did it to myself. It was a writing 'competition' so I took it too seriously. I wanted to create. I wanted to flex my artistic muscles. I wanted substance.
I would have been better off with celebrity references, bodily functions and dwarf jokes. Don't get me wrong. Some of the pieces were quite good. There were three, in fact, that I was both truly impressed by and jealous of the writing. I gave my actress 4 paragraphs of exposition, and never even penned the monologue I was planning.
I should have known things weren't going to meet my expectations when the 'prizes' were revealed to be stuffed animals, writng pads, pens, and assorted sundry. Also, for the third year of a 'production' there was a lot of wasted time. A lot of in between. A lot of spinning our wheels. Call me ADD but I like to get in, be entertained, and get out. I don't need Mr. Happy standing up and cracking private jokes with company members, or repeatedly talking up the North Westside which only reminded me how long it was going to take me to get home again in the freezing cold.
So it was a disappointing night. That's my incredibly long post about my incredibly long night. Be glad you are only reading about it.
* During the 35 minute writing process the audience, a few parents & a handful of significant others, were 'entertained' by a musician and a stand up comedian who, according to my sources, was the complete, and total opposite of funny. I'm thankful none of my friends showed up to support me just because they never would have forgiven me.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
I'll be damned
A co-worker of mine who I mentioned this blog to, not only, asked me for the address but actually looked it up. She read past posts, comments - then she went into the Something Else I Wrote link and read the one act play in progress that I had posted there. She had a a some positive feedback, and even addressed a few of the concerns I had with the script, and I didn't even have to prompt her.
Maybe I should take a second look at that script. Maybe I can dust it off in time for this submission deadline coming up.
Maybe I should take a second look at that script. Maybe I can dust it off in time for this submission deadline coming up.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
I Don't Do Mornings!
Maybe it was the fact that today is my best friend's birthday. (Happy 31st Adam! I'll get that porn in the mail to you soon.)
Maybe it's because, yesterday, Ted Ligety won the first US Gold in Alpine Skiing in a decade!(U S A! U S A!)
I don't know what it was but this morning, I had a huge grin on my face as I bent down in the street to pick up a steaming pile of doggie doo at 6:45AM. Who needs an alarm clock when there's a little dog who crawls up you on the bed and starts nuzzling you awake so you'll take her out for a walk?
Maybe it's because, yesterday, Ted Ligety won the first US Gold in Alpine Skiing in a decade!(U S A! U S A!)
I don't know what it was but this morning, I had a huge grin on my face as I bent down in the street to pick up a steaming pile of doggie doo at 6:45AM. Who needs an alarm clock when there's a little dog who crawls up you on the bed and starts nuzzling you awake so you'll take her out for a walk?
Monday, February 13, 2006
The Dilemma
What to give that special someone for Valentine's Day -
Flowers?
Jewelry?
Romatic Dinner?
Or... perhaps the Perfect Gift... Tootsie!
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Did you know?
According to my beverage and its knowledgeable Capple -
You Have To Play Ping-Pong For 12 Hours To Lose 1 Pound.
Damn, I'm never going to get skinny playing golf... I play golf... not miniature, either... Golf... What? Yeah, it's on the PS2... It's Still A Sport! I'm A Jock!
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Hmmmm?
A scientific phenomenon? Pure Idiocy? You decide...
So our apartment is so hot that candy bars melt if left on the coffee table, so often times we store our Hersheys in the fridge. Tonight, craving a particular candy bar, I decided I'd like it a little soft soI popped it into the microwave for 5 seconds. After the first second blue bolts shot the length of the chocolate bar, just like the flux capacitor from the Back To The Future Trilogy (2 Posts In A Row) and the stench of ozone permeated the air. Almost made it impossible to eat the chocolate after I had peeled it out of the disintegrated wrapper.
Why did this happen?
So our apartment is so hot that candy bars melt if left on the coffee table, so often times we store our Hersheys in the fridge. Tonight, craving a particular candy bar, I decided I'd like it a little soft soI popped it into the microwave for 5 seconds. After the first second blue bolts shot the length of the chocolate bar, just like the flux capacitor from the Back To The Future Trilogy (2 Posts In A Row) and the stench of ozone permeated the air. Almost made it impossible to eat the chocolate after I had peeled it out of the disintegrated wrapper.
Why did this happen?
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Run For It, Marty!
"Oh My God! They found me! I don't know how but they found me."
By Order Of The Circuit Court Of Cook County, Illinois, You (ME) are Hereby Summoned To Appear For Jury Service...
CRAP!
By Order Of The Circuit Court Of Cook County, Illinois, You (ME) are Hereby Summoned To Appear For Jury Service...
CRAP!
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