Y’all, I had to take a break. I’m still finding my way with this blog and a lot has been happening in real life. On top of the usual efforts of job hunting, temping, and auditioning I had a death in my family and I booked a show. Like I said before, I’m really good at running myself into the ground (being equal parts workaholic and lazy will do that to a person). So I took some time off from writing after my daily post blitz. I also took some real time off following my 14-day

I told y’all about my first stage defeat/horror (not the last time I thought a giant reptile would end my life). So to balance it out here’s my first stage triumph. This is before I decided to become an actor, back when performing was still just playing in my mind. I was 3 years old and the Simpsons were doing a big promotional event at a bookstore just outside the city. My grandmother packed my older cousin and I into the car and drove us out there. The place was swarmed. I

Last Monday was the start of a 13-day work week (that I arranged for myself somewhat accidentally) and I’m starting to falter. It may be because when I got home at 4:45am I went back to sleep instead of staying up. Or I could just be regular tired. Aside from my current temp assignment (which is a steady 9:30 – 5/5:30) the rest of my near double week notched itself into place nearly without my notice. I blame my job search and the mercurial nature of an acting career. They’re

What follows is a story of dragons, human sacrifice, and one terrified 4 year old. Of how theatre taught me the most important lesson of all: find out what they’re asking for before you volunteer. On a sunny (I can’t remember the day so we’ll say it was Tuesday and assume it was sunny. For the sake of the narrative). On a sunny Tuesday, Mrs. Krishnan’s PM kindergarten class and the rest of the kids in the elementary school bustled into the cafegymnatorium for a special perfor

So make-up. That’s a thing that exists. I only halfway know what I’m doing when I put make-up on. Most of the time I’m an eyeliner & tinted (barely) lip balm kinda lady but I’m attempting to be paparazzi ready whenever I step out of the house… And I’m not quite to the point of keeping to it 100% every day (getting there though, I believe in myself). My new absolute minimum is eyeliner and lip gloss but I’m trying to bump it up to liner, gloss, brows, eyeshadow, blush, and und

I’m an actress. Y’all have heard me announce this 8 billion times (and honestly probably will 8 billion more times #sorrynotsorry). But stick with me, there’s a point to this one. I’m an actress, writer, a bit of a perfectionist, and a know-it-all (I’ve accepted this about myself. I call myself an “actually kid”*). The problem? I can’t watch any movie, tv show, commercial, or theatre or read a book piece without critiquing it. I’m constantly aware of things like costume desig

I am ruthless. Like stone cold, unforgiving. Unless you ask someone else. Why? Because I treat others the way I’d want to be treated but treat myself more poorly than I could ever fathom treating another person. It’s why I hate listening to myself sing and reading my own writing. In others I see potential, in myself I see only flaws that need correcting. Prime example: I didn’t post yesterday because I spent most of the day with a friend and the rest of the day locked out of

April 2012 I left London because I could no longer afford to live there. I couldn’t find work (acting or otherwise) nor could I justify having my family support me (that exchange rate, Jesus). I was relieved to go home, the weight of not being able to afford rent and half the time food was lifted from my shoulders. Then it hit me. I had failed. My plan to live and perform in London was shot. I went home with my tail between my legs. At least that’s how it felt. That experienc

I want to be my best for you guys. Write my best, look my best, and only report on quality stuff. The perfectionist in me took control. I had to show how much of The EGOTist I had embodied. It became less about the process of discovery and more about the final product. If I hadn’t overcome it yet, it wasn’t time to write about it. In my head I had to present this image of success. It’s like I forgot the description that I wrote (I wrote it myself how could I forget it). It ad

So yesterday I was in crisis. Again (they happen a lot, the curse of thinking too much). I’m not living my best life. I know that I’m not. Cause for panic, right? But here was the bigger question. What is living my best life? Like what does it actually look like? The nebulous (favorite word right now), vague idea of “not this” only incites panic and creates stress. It doesn’t make me proactive. Identifying the issue is step 1 and I hadn’t even finished that yet. So let’s get

I’m a chronic dropper. Samsung’s Gorilla Glass is the only reason I still have a phone or a tablet (you’d think they were slathered in butter with the way they slip out of my hands). But what I drop best are projects. Like super easy for me to do. Either some fresher idea comes along or I hit a point of frustration and find myself so far behind schedule that I just give up. My jogging plan lasted a full week and a half, my 2 NaNoWriMo winning novels are hanging out on my hard

I hate reception work. We’ve established this with my last post (The Introvert Receptionist if you missed it). 20/20 hindsight (my favorite thing, y’all know) has me seeing that the article may have sounded a bit passive, petulant, and whiney. I probably spent too much time talking about identifying my problem instead of how I’ve been working to solve it. So here we go, let’s talk about this escape plan. Make a list of your job skills. Because I hate my to survival job the fi

A couple weeks ago I read You Are What You Do (the most of) by Christopher Gabriel Núñez and it rearranged my brain. While the whole article has been seared into my memory two points have really stuck. “You will only ever get good at the thing you do most.” & “DON’T GET GOOD AT SOME SHIT YOU DON’T LOVE.” What do I do most? Administrative & Receptionist work What do I love? Acting & Writing That math don’t add up. If we break it down according to time spent, I’m a receptionist

“I know I’m not Dionne but I’m at least Cher.” Chatting with my friends I brought up which character I thought I would be in the timeless classic Clueless. I honestly thought I was a Cher who just needed a bit of a wardrobe update. Simultaneous “Da fuq?” looks were their responses (I swear my friends really do love me). I wasn’t Cher they agreed, I was Tai. (Stylin & profilin…oy…) Tai? No way. I’m clever, and pretty, and have an individualized sense of style, and oh my God th

A photo shoot: privately one of my biggest fears and my final boss battle before the EGOTist launch. It’s not that I didn’t have any pictures. Jessica Osber took some fantastic headshots for me but they fit the cute, low-key me. They don’t quite read EGOTist (Jessica is fabulous to shoot with, definitely hit her up if you need photos). Sidebar: Photo shoots are my kryptonite I even do the “make a weird face on purpose” preemptive strike when I’m taking pictures for fun. My br

When I started seriously considering locking my hair I put in enough research to write an undergraduate paper. Locs aren’t a hairstyle to be undertaken lightly. They’re a pretty permanent commitment; if you’re tired of them, your options are cutting them or spending days and heaps of conditioner painstakingly combing them out. Thankfully Jo and More Hair Salon came through for me again. The salon owner, Ms. Loretta, had the most beautiful set of sisterlocks, locs done with a

(Flashback to the last of the relaxer days in China) The first 2 weeks or so after I went natural were not quite traumatizing but damn close. I’d look in the mirror and see a near stranger with a face bereft of the curtain of hair to hide behind. I was alone and adrift and, Jesus help me, I had to take care of my own hair. The South African women I worked with were just as clueless as I was and I definitely wasn’t finding a natural hair salon in southern China (I did find a C

(There’s a cute outfit under that sweatshirt…allegedly…) One big thing I learned in the midst of my wardrobe liposuction was that my clothing of choice was especially good for hiding. Even the things I considered sexy and a bit more risque were still pretty tame. It was all very hot librarian and occasionally like I had stumbled back into my high school uniform. Not very grown and sexy at all. I felt cute and was all stuff that I considered stylish but not exactly tailored fo

A sunny Sunday afternoon in June. I’d just dragged myself out of bed after four hours of improv the day before and bolstered by the cute outfits I’d worn in the shows, I mentioned wanting to update my wardrobe. My roommates took a deep breath and shared a look. Ominous. Uh oh. This wasn’t going to be just a chat. This was…an intervention. It’s not that I hadn’t been thinking about it. I’d been researching branding and marketing; how to run my acting business like the savviest

EGOTist. The name hits me in a stroke of brilliance on the A train. EGOT – a person who’s won an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony award. See Audrey Hepburn, Whoopi Goldberg, Rita Moreno, and Mel Brooks. egotist – a person who believes she is better, more important, more talented than other people EGOTist – a person who knows she’s important, talented, and fabulous enough to win the big 4 and lives her life accordingly It was genius! But it also wasn’t me. At least…not yet… This