Things are gonna change, I can feel it. (thanks, Beck) And no, I’m not implying soy un perdedor, it’s just that every seven years or so I hear that first sentence over and over in my head for weeks on end. This is one of those times. First and foremost, and because I’ve had several people ask me in social settings that quickly turned very awkward, I heard back from Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism last week. Turns out that I have way too much potential in acting, and they think that I shouldn’t waste my time with diversions such as journalism just yet. Well, not in so many words, but, you know. Um, yeah. The only thing remotely funny about that terribly disappointing letter was that it was dated April 1st. Yes, April Fool’s Day. I was tempted to send it back with a note: “HA-HA – very funny guys! That was a good one! Okay, you can send the real one now!” Honestly, I’m extremely uncomfortable sharing this information publicly. It sucked and it hurt. On the other hand, I feel that it’s appropriate because my acceptance to, or rejection from, Columbia would drastically change a lot of things in my acting world. Moving on.

With the above in mind, I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching. And a lot of compiling of press clips.

I’ve decided that I need to stop f*ing around when it comes to my acting career. Performing has always gotten the short end of the stick because I’ve always stumbled into one diversion or another – the promise of some new amazing career that will fulfill my basic and intellectual needs while still allowing me to perform. Sitting down with my stack of newspapers and weekly ‘zines and compiling all the articles in which I’ve been mentioned/reviewed into one press book has been extremely reaffirming. I have no negative reviews, and 28 pages so far that include reviews from the Star Tribune, Pioneer Press, City Pages, Pulse, Lavender, Montreal Mirror, and the McGill Tribune among others – with a stack of about 20 more periodicals to weed though. The ultimate goal of this staggeringly narcissistic exercise (what’s worse? – doing it or writing about it?) is to start creating some great press kits to send along to The Guthrie, Children’s Theatre Company, The Jungle, Ten Thousand Things, The Penumbra, etc., etc., etc. Hell, I even ordered personal business cards a few weeks ago. They came in Monday’s mail, and they’re totally sweet.

So I’ve got some messages for the emotional freeloaders in my life: stagnancy, bugger off. Self-doubt, get the hell out of my house…if you insist on continuing to live here (which I know you will), you’re going to pay rent already.

WANTED: Benefactor.