Magic uncovers the beauty of beginnings and endings in an ordinary cafe…

This was my submission to the Moby music video contest hosted by Genero. This was also my final project for my dynamics effects class at the Gnomon school (the flower, in particular). I wore several hats for this project: writer, producer, director, cinematographer, matchmover, editor, animator, VFX artist…

What I didn’t do was any of the acting. I am extremely grateful to Jameelah Nuriddin, Marie Kleinschmidt, Brian Sounalath, Ace Marrero, and Erin Stegeman for doing this on short notice and for nothing but the love of acting and my eternal gratitude.

It’s a little rough around the edges, but I only had about two weeks to get the entire thing made (with the exception of the flower- I worked on that throughout the course of the term).

I’ve always had a bit of a fear of heights. It’s nothing unreasonable. I can get a little dizzy on ladders or scaffolding and shudder when I see people falling in movies. This fear became a full-blown phobia after the terrorist attacks on September 11. I was in New York when that happened and saw the buildings fall right in front of me from my roof in Brooklyn. It took me a while to get to the point where I am now: comfortably working- despite the constant threat of earthquakes- on the 18th floor of a high-rise.

Over the years, people have tried to get me over this fear (though I personally think you SHOULD be a little nervous about being high off the ground- it is a natural self-preservation  mechanism, after all). Soaring through the air on a flying trapeze, safely in a harness and with a net beneath me, seemed like an exciting way to confront my nervousness.

Here is the video proof of my willingness to overcome! I had a BLAST doing this and hope to do it again soon. I got a little distracted by the aerial silks (which I have been doing almost every week since this video was made), but I hope to return to the sky soon.

Many thanks to Brad Bishop and Hermione Leach for filming and SUPER thanks to Morningstar Bloom for NOT LISTENING TO ME AT ALL when I told her I couldn’t do it!

A sample of my VFX work. Made using Maya, After Effects, Boujou and several other tools (including Flash). My passion here is dynamics. I love organic movement.

We often start the New Year by making our steadfast resolutions: I’m going to lose weight. I’m going to write that screenplay. I’m going to learn French… In short, we seek out to “fix” our lives in some way.  It’s equally important to take a moment to look back on the year and reflect on everything that you have done. With 2011 in full swing, I take a moment to recall few of last year’s highlights:

1. I got to hang out on some awesome television sets as an extra. The Office? Mad Men? Castle? That’s pretty bad ass. I’m VERY lucky.
2. I got a job as a web developer at Fox. I’ve gotten to create/work on sites for my favorite shows and some of the best shows on television. Fringe? Family Guy? The Simpsons? Glee?
3. I’m working on my 3rd level of improv comedy classes at The Upright Citizens Brigade theater.
4. I’ve gotten to see DOZENS of movies/performances with their creators! “Up” with Pete Docter and Bob Peterson? “The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnasus” with Terry Gilliam? “Avatar” with James Cameron? “Scott Pilgrim” with Edgar Wright? “ASSSCAT” with Amy Poehler, Jon Hamm, Jack McBrayer, Matt Walsh, Tim Meadows, Heather Graham, Matt Besser, and Ian Roberts?! I can’t even list everything!
5. I aced particle dynamics at the Gnomon School and made a music video out of what I learned.
6. I’ve gotten to explore Southern California in all of its glory.
7. I’ve mingled with awesome people. John Noble? Hugh Laurie? Seth MacFarlane? Hells to the yes!
8. And not least of all, I met a wonderful and talented guy who makes me smile, think, and melt, and with whom I get to share much of the above. Our adventures are just beginning.

The point here is not to brag. In this year, I’ve also lost a grandmother, heard news that my grandfather fell down a flight of stairs and is in bad shape, watched my dad get a triple bypass surgery, heard the horrible news of my high school BFF’s struggle with breast cancer, done great battle with unemployment, helped my brother pick himself up off the ground, worked 100+ hours a week to get the new Fox.com off the ground (almost losing my sanity in the process), failed a relationship, lost friends, and collected a hefty amount of debt in the process. But the positives FAR outweigh the negatives. I’ve done all of this DESPITE all of that. My point is to prove that if I get out there and try to make it happen, you can. Granted, I tend to live my life at about 100 miles per hour. Sometimes, the passage of time doesn’t even register with me. Since moving out to Los Angeles back in August/September of ’09, I have pushed myself to do all that I can in my entertainment career.

Wait, wait. What was that? “Entertainment?” That’s right. I have accepted it. I work in entertainment. Yes, I consider myself above all to be a “filmmaker” and primarily a “director,” but I’ve really opened my mind to television and the Internet. Also,  take a look around my site! I clearly have about a dozen other interests and entertaining talents. Realizing this about myself and accepting that having such a broad range of interests is an asset rather than a liability has been a major step for me this year. I enjoy acting. I enjoy writing. I enjoy drawing. I enjoy animating. I enjoy photography. I enjoy scientific discussion. I enjoy music. Hell, I even enjoy web development, my so-called “day job” now that I work for Fox. And to boot, I’m not too bad at those things. Why should I stop doing any one of them?

We have a tendency to want to slip others and ourselves into tidy little well-defined slots. Time and time again, I have had “wiser” people tell me I need to focus on one thing (and I’ve heard this said of some of my other friends with “multifaceted” interests and talents). The problem with that is that it doesn’t work for everyone. The more I limit my music playing, the less inspired I feel to write. The fewer photo-hiking trips I take, the less I feel the urge to sit down and code. When I feel like my interests are too scattered, I remind myself that my idols like James Cameron and J.J. Abrams write, direct, draw, compose, geek out about science, etc. And thanks to twitter, I’m learning that other people I admire have just as varied interests and talents (and learning to appreciate others that I may not have ever heard about).

Enough. Do what you love. All of it. As much as you can squeeze into your life. Soak up every day. Love someone. Shout it out. And as the song in my video cries out: Go Do! The secret to life is not that complicated. Live it. My resolution is to make 2011 just as awesome as 2010, accepting that there will be bad with the good. Take a moment and reflect on just how much you did in 2010 and reward yourself for that. Make 2011 about building from that, not scolding yourself and giving yourself rules. And above ALL, let a little love into your life. There’s a lot about the world to love.

Toy robot detours traffic near Coors Field

Another sent me this one (again, image links to story):

NASA Finds New Life

Wow. Not EXTRATERRESTRIALS, sure, but it opens to doors to what we should be looking for.

8-inch Killer Robots and Arsenic-based life forms.  Finally, the Universe is reading my screenplays.  And producing them!

Thanks to Carl and Pericles for sending me these stories!  You have made my day.

The second extras assignment I got was for the show “Cold Case.” Fittingly, the thing I remember most about this experience was that it was freezing. It was also wet and muddy- sometimes dangerously so (lights and their power generators and cables don’t mix well with “wet”). How a Los Angeles set manages to seem freezing and wet to a native Colorado ski bunny is beyond me. I played a 1970′s-ish circus goer who witnesses an “accident” on the aerial silks (the show aired months ago, so if this is a spoiler, I’m sorry, but you need to catch up). I was married with kids. The pressures of the set split our happy family up, though. My husband and I separated. I lost custody halfway through. So did he. Sigh. I miss little… kid.

Not only was it freezing, but the costumes were ridiculously uncomfortable. I still don’t quite understand how women could wear polyester, pantyhose and high heels. Simultaneously.

Part of the props also included balloons. Anyone who has known me long enough or who regularly reads this blog understands that this is a pretty serious problem.

I am globophobic (afraid of balloons and yes, it is a real thing and yes, you can shut up). They make me tense up and act like an imbecile. I will leave a grocery store if I can hear them being blown up. When I see a balloon animal artist (or as I view them: terrorist) on my side of the street, I will make an effort to cross to the other side or feign sudden interest in whatever the storefront closest to me has to offer. The situation to the left, for example, in which my “daughter” is mercilessly beating me with a balloon flower, was torture. It’s a strange phobia and does not solicit the same sympathy as, say, a fear of heights or a fear of spiders. I usually just keep my mouth shut about it and hope I don’t reveal too much to the person walking with me. (note: I recently tried to overcome this fear by participating in/orchestrating a photo shoot. The results of this test are on my facebook page.)

Of course, “my kids” wanted balloons and balloon animals more than they wanted sugar (which on that set, was saying something). They also insisted on attacking both me and my camera with them. I wore a brave face throughout it all. Three balloons were detonated in front of me. People kept thrusting them into my hands. Honestly, I should get a freaking Oscar for the photo at the bottom of this post. Or an Emmy, this being television. Do they give out Emmy’s for stills?

Anyway, it was two days of either standing in the mud or sitting on metallic bleachers and being told to “shush” every three seconds. The popcorn was fake- actually, it was real, but ancient. I am SO glad none of the children eating it plus copious amounts of cotton candy were mine. Seriously. Whose idea was that? “We have a bunch of kids that we need to keep still between shoots on a circus-like set filled with clowns, balloons, and live snakes (I don’t think the snakes made the final cut). How do we keep them manageable? I know! Let’s give them stale salty popcorn and colored clouds of sugar!”

Turned out they had to cut many of my scenes because the guy in front of me was wearing earrings and they didn’t catch it until AFTER the last shot. The result? You can see approximately half of my head for less than a second. I vowed to never again do it, but then, I hit the jackpot of extras gigs…

As a girl who once made television sets in her desk at school, it was surreal to finally be on the set and stare at all of the toys. It was all I imagined it to be and more! Lights, camera, lots of inaction mixed with frenzied moments of action, baseball caps, gaffing tape! There were only three walls and bleachers (complete with “Applause” light). A particularly fun Hollywood moment came when we were told that in the event of an earthquake, we should run to the nearest wall. The nearest REAL wall. The director was loud and had a British accent. Only he and the first AD were either allowed to laugh at the jokes or thought they were funny (I’m leaning toward the latter- note the earlier description of “NBC summer season sitcom”). And I’m pretty sure James Cameron was the second AD. Why not? I don’t think he had anything better to do at the time…

I met people who were happy to be there and revved up about the industry, and jaded, miserable folks who should probably seek out other careers. I found myself somewhere in between. “Content” would be the best way to put it. After all was said and done, though, I’d had enough fun that I decided to try to land another gig.

That’s right; I just basically implied that being an extra is not a “real job.” Also, I used a semicolon. Read on THAT!

Granted, some people have managed to make it such, and I applaud their success (and wonder how much Top Ramen they must eat), but it is NOT for the faint of heart. Often times referred to as “dots” or “blurs,” extras are treated with absolutely zero respect. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect respect (soon to be a new hit song), but here I am referring to such an extreme lack of respect that you don’t even feel like a human being. The props are quite literally treated better than you are. As a non-union extra, you make $8 an hour to stand on your feet all day, often in uncomfortable attire, and to be shushed like a five year old every time you yawn, sneeze, or say “hi” to your fellow extras. But if it’s worth it to you to have a little bit of yourself attached to a project or to see that star you always wanted to meet, read on:

Here’s how it works: you go down to “Central” at the most inconvenient time on a weekday morning. You listen to their spiel. You stand in a long-ass line with dozens of other Hollywood hopefuls. You register with them (SSN, DLN, W-2, height, measurements, dress size, special talents, car type, “how far will you go,” the works). You stand in another long-ass line. You stand in front of a camera (about as sophisticated as the DMV) and get a picture taken. One. You do not get to see said picture. They hand you a packet of papers and give you a phone number to call. You call said phone number. Again. And again. MANY times per day. You listen to pre-recorded job postings and hope to hear one that sounds like something you match and that is something you might actually like to do. You listen to the WHOLE THING because often they only want your car, or your specific breed of dog, or they want you to jump into a swimming pool with all of your clothes on (repeatedly) or shave your head or be a professional soccer coach or a biker or stripper or something (yes, I’ve heard all of these) and they seem to want to put this critical information last. You call another number to talk to the agent that posted this call. This number will be busy. Always. (I guess a lot of people fit “non-union woman between the ages of 21 to 71.”) You call again and again and again (because you have nothing better to do) or you pay $75 a month to have someone else do it for you (keeping in mind that you will still only make $8/hour when they find you work). IF you get the gig, they will give you almost NO information about where it is or what you will be doing or how long it will take because again, you have nothing better to do and can put everything else on hold. If you don’t get the gig (after all of that), you spend the next several hours worrying that you sneezed or a bug landed on your face in that headshot you never got to see. They give you yet another number to call the night before your job. You call that number (note: get a phone plan with unlimited minutes). They pre-scold you for being late and/or not having everything you need. They tell you to bring your own clothes and often something you would never own and will need to buy (i.e. pantyhose). You try to sleep the night before because your call time is often early in the morning (6:15AM) or late at night (10PM), running until early in the morning. You fight traffic to get to set on time. You fail. You park as far away as possible from the set. You arrive and check in with the 2nd AD or a PA who will either ignore you or call you sweetheart. You go sit in “holding” which is often a tent with a bunch of metal folding chairs in it. You talk to some cool people and a couple of crazy folks. They tell you to be quiet. They tell you to go to costume, hair and makeup, all three of which will tell you to go away because no one is really going to see you and they don’t want to waste their time. You swallow sadness and immerse yourself in a good book. You get called to set. They tell you to be quiet. A lot. Even if the crew is making all of the noise, they will blame the “background talent” for the hammering. You do your thirty seconds of bad “casual conversation” pantomime. You feel good because you SWEAR the camera is, like, totally right on you the whole time! They feed you (usually). You finish your “day.” You go home and tell all of your family and friends to tune into whatever show at whatever time. A week later, you get a paycheck for approximately $80 for ten+ hours of work. Your episode airs or your film is released. Two people report possibly seeing the back of your head for half a second. One of them is your mother. It turns out that it was not your head, but you don’t tell anyone that. You swear you are never going to do it again. Two weeks later, you call the pre-recorded line and start the process all over again. This time you just know you’re going to get that SAG voucher!*

However, like all experiences, crappy or otherwise, being an extra expands my library of fun stories to tell, and I shall share them here- with pictures (where possible)! You know, someone should make a television show based on their experiences as an extra. It might be really funny! They could get awesome actors to guest star. Ooh, ooh! I’d love to see Ian McKellan do something on a show like that…

(*You need to get three vouchers before you can join the Screen Actor’s Guild, which is every non-union extra’s dream. Once you have your vouchers, you pay SAG a large sum of money and then you can actually begin making a more livable wage from doing “background” work.)

That’s my dog, Pixol. This picture was taken at LAX. She is sitting in her soft dog carrier (read: celebutante dog purse) after having made me chase her through the concourse, knowing neither “come” nor “stay.” What’s a Pixol, you ask? Why, a pixol is a three-dimensional pixel in Z-Brush. A Pixol is also my dog. Why Pixol and not Pixel? Because my dog has three legs. Ba-dum tish.

And what a good way to kick off my FAQ! Whenever I take my little one out for a walk in our Santa Monica neighborhood, we are bombarded with questions and comments concerning her handicapability. I decided to create this FAQ and direct people here to make our lives a little easier. In descending order of frequency:

MY DOG, AN FAQ

Q. Oh my God! He only has three legs!
A. This is not a question. It’s a (rude) statement. I already knew that. And he is a she. But thanks for pointing that out. You’re good at seeing stuff.

Q. What happened to its leg?
A. Wait… what? Where’s your… bad dog! Bad dog!! Let’s go back to the dog park…

Q. No, seriously, what happened to her leg?
A. Shark fight. You should see the other guy.

Q. Are you only going to give sarcastic answers to these questions?
A. Mostly. Actually, she was hit by a car and it had to be amputated. There. Don’t you think “shark fight” is way cooler?

Q. Was she “like that” when you got her?
A. Yes, I adopted her with a missing leg. And yes, “good for me” for taking her in. I am awesome and the angels smile upon me.

Q. Aww… well she gets along just fine, doesn’t she?
A. No, she doesn’t. It’s a daily struggle, and I’ll thank you not to bring it up again. Actually, yes. She doesn’t even seem to notice. She slips on the hardwood floor, but then so do I after a glass of wine. Of course, I only have two legs, so you be the judge of who is more coordinated…

Q. Are you ever going to get her a prosthetic?
A. If I ever feel that she needs one, absolutely. Or if I ever want her to be a pirate for Halloween. I will go as her parrot. It will be awesome.

Q. How long have you had her?
A. It’s funny how often people ask me this question. Is this a question asked of all dog owners or only the owners of dogs with missing legs?

Q. Does it ever bother her?
A. Not really. I mean, when she gets tired of walking she just flies. Like everyone.

Q. What’s her name mean? Why didn’t you name her Tripod or Hoppy or Stumpy or some other stupid thing? Heh heh.
A. I don’t know. Why didn’t your parents name you Rude or Baldy McAsks-a-lot-of-dumb-questions? Isn’t “Pixol” bad enough?

Q. Have you seen the dog with only two legs?
A. OMG Yes!! It’s the worlds cutest YouTube video and it made me cry liek a lawt. ^_^

Q. What kind of dog is she?
A. She’s a Chispangledoodle mix. And also part cat. Somehow.

So there you go. Everything you ever wanted to know about my dog. If you can think of any other questions, please feel free to ask them in the comments section.