A Day In The Life – November 2001
Ian and I woke up at 6:15am this Tuesday morning and it was clear and sunny outside, after a night of rain that cleaned up the air. He went off for a 40 mile bike ride with his cycling club, and I work on tomorrow’s audition, an F/X pilot starring Jeremy Piven. Auditions have been few and far between for me this year, and I am excited to have this one. With the slowing economy and two industry strikes that were expected (but averted), times are tough in Hollywood. Independent production companies are closing their doors, Sony Pictures cut out its television division, NBC went from 35 TV movies a year to 8, and Fox is no longer making TV movies at all.
I work for ½ hour and then check my email. Then it is time for me to work out: since my shoulder and my ankle are dicey these days, my choices are few. I opt for the gym, where I can ride the stationary bike for an hour (another chance to go over tomorrow’s audition) and lift some weights.
I end up reading the newspaper on the bike, and a newsletter from one of the myriad population stabilization groups to which I belong. When I get home, Ian is back from coaching Masters Swimming at our local pool (Masters is swim team for adults, and Ian coaches it twice a week), and he wants to drop off my demo tape (a 6 minute tape of scenes from recent movies) and my resume/headshot to a writer who was at Masters, and who thinks I would be right for his next film. Ah Hollywood. The land where the person you swim with could give you your next big break…
Actually, Hollywood is the land where things turn on a dime. Two days ago, I was not sure if I would ever work again, and today, I have an audition and a swimmer/writer who is interested in me for his film. I am aware things could turn again in the next two days, and everything could fall through, but I don’t think about that as I drive (in my dirty-streaked-by-rain electric car) to my eye doctor appointment. An appointment long overdue, which I finally scheduled because my mom said I could go blind if I don’t get new contact lenses, or if I have some hidden eye disease that needs to be caught in its early stages. Since I already have a cat that had his eye removed this summer, I figured that was a sign to heed her. Anyway, moms really do know best.
After my appointment (no eye disease, but I definitely need new contacts. My doctor, Stuart Grant, is so nice I regret not having come in in two years), I stop off at a beauty supply store nearby (for moisturizer with sunscreen) and run into Erin, who did PR (short for public relations, also known as publicity) for Baywatch and whom I haven’t seen in 7years. We catch up a bit and it is nice to see her. I do some more errands (as an oft unemployed actress, I have mastered the art of errand-running) like the post office and the pharmacy (as I am going on my belated honeymoon next week, I have things to get done).
At 1:30pm I am home, and I eat some soy pizza things and take some vitamins, before I give the script from the swimmer/writer a read. It takes me an hour, the part is small and for someone 15 years younger than I, but it is actually good (I read a lot of bad scripts, so it is always a relief to read something that doesn’t disappoint me), so I call him and leave a message that I am interested. I tell him all the reasons it makes more sense for the character to be a 30- something (mostly that she is the wife of Randy Quaid, who is 45-something, and that older women are sexier anyway). Then my dad’s doctor returns my call to tell me how my dad is doing (Dad has been feeling very tired lately, and we are worried about him), so that makes me late to my physical therapy appointment for the above-mentioned shoulder and ankle. After an hour of physical therapy, I drive to meet my dear, dear friend and fellow Baywatch cast member Jaason Simmons at a coffee shop. He is going to England next week to work in a play and I wont see him for several months. I shall miss him. He calls me Sam, and I call him Tringley, and we lean on each other when necessary.
When I get home, my beloved Ian runs to the door to cover me with kisses, and we heat up some pasta with soy ground beef and egg whites. We feed Henry, our sweet, one-eyed kitty who has a cold so he gets tuna as a treat (after I force a pill down him). We talk about our day. Ian is very busy working on his triathlon business and he is going away in a couple days to get yet another coaching certification. I am very proud of him. I have desk work to do, and I need to work on my audition, so we agree to just work this evening. I, of course get sidetracked chatting on the phone with my sister for the third time today, and Ian has to shush me as I tend to talk loudly (a habit from using my cell phone so often, I think). I work on my audition for another hour. I call Alex (the boy whom I tutor on Mondays and Wednesdays) to tell him I wont be able to meet with him tomorrow because of my audition and the looping for “Breaking Up Really Sucks”, the film I shot last month. When 10 pm rolls around I am in bed reading my library book “Man Crazy” by Joyce Carol Oates. Soon, Ian stops his work, and we are in bed with our cat Henry (who tends to take up most of the room on the bed). I am happy.
