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Sunday, July 16, 2017

Making Connections

Making Connections
Hey blog.

Long time no blog.

I used to use this space to talk about my creative projects and reflect on the processes involved; this was like four years agoI was actively updating, and then I went through a really harsh break up and fell out of the habit. Since then I've written a few posts, and a lot  has happened to me personally and professionally.

Most recently, I made my Netflix debut.

Here I am in Friends From College.

Wait, that's actually not accurate, one of the films I have a bit part in, Crooked Arrows, was on Netflix for some time before the contract expired and they took it down. So I guess that was my Netflix debut. What came out this week was Friends from College, in which I have an even smaller bit part.  But people are actually watching this, unlike Crooked Arrows which, to be fair, was targeted towards 8-13 year old lacrosse players anyway.

Fun fact, one time I got a random piece of fan mail to my email from this guy who watched Crooked Arrows with his kids. It seemed very sincere, like clearly it meant something to his family and he was like "who is that guy who plays the announcer? He does a good job, I should let him know." And my email is connected to my IMDB page, so that's probably how he got it. It was still kinda weird.

Anyway, Friends From College is especially cool because I play literally myself.  Well I literally play the character I portrayed at the time at Jekyll and Hyde, where the scene is set and where I work in real life. And I mean, it doesn't take a lot to guess that it's because I work there in real life that I got the part in the TV show that happened to be shooting a scene there. It was a stroke of luck that I met the guy from the locations department who was scouting it, who got my info to casting, etc. Success in art really is a combination of luck and preparedness, all of my other acting roles in big things like this (I've had three now, total) were a similar combination of those factors.

And yeah, I'm really, really proud of it. And I'm really proud of the work I do at Jekyll and Hyde. There, I said it.  Actually I say it all the time in Facebook posts detailing the various interactions I have with kids while I’m working there. If you're reading this, chances are good you know me, so you do you know this: I'm a devout secular humanist and leftist and I try to imbue that into my work with people. I always have in all of my jobs as a performer, be it running a trivia night (which I did for a while), as a historical tour guide on a Segway or in colonial garb (both of which I've done) or most recently as a character in a haunted theme restaurant.

I try to relate to people on some real level, like I see them, and I understand what they’re going through. I just ask them questions, where are you from, what are you doing while you're in New York, that kind of stuff. And I try to make them laugh, at me, at themselves and at each other. My new favorite bit I do as my mad scientist character (in the show I'm a butler but now I play a mad scientist) is I walk out onto the floor of the restaurant, and just cackle like a mad scientist, you know "BWA-HA-HA-HA!" and then I stop and say "I don't know why I'm laughing, sometimes what can you do but laugh, am I right folks?" but in my deep, sort of growley Dr. Horrible voice.

Yes, my character's name is Dr. Horrible. No, I don't have a sing along blog. That's part of the joke. Dr. Horrible’s backstory: Joss Whedon met me during the writer's strike and based a movie on me, but instead of having me play myself, he hired Neil Patrick Harris, my super talented and handsome arch nemesis. I do that bit when people ask me about it. It's very silly.

But I really believe that as a life philosophy, "Sometimes what can you do but laugh?" I acknowledge that in my case it comes from a place of economic and societal privilege. Like if I was homeless or truly hungry or desperate, I might notlaugh. But when something hurts, be it heartbreak or rejection (which, come to think of it, are the main forms of pain I experience) I try to remember it. And when people come to the restaurant, I try to share that with them, and just do whatever I can to make them laugh.

With the kids I do a little more. I very deliberately interact with them, almost to the point of interviewing them. I ask them their name, how old they are, I ask how them how that's going. Like, "Oh Suzy, so you're eleven. How's that going? Do you like being eleven?" Sometimes they say "yeah it's great". Other times they’re having a hard time, usually if they’re a few years older.  They'll admit it’s not greatand  I'llsay "Yeah I know, I totally feelz you dawg," again in my mad scientist voice. It's silly, I know, but I actually do. And I want them to feel seen by me at least, like the clown sees you, and wants to know what yourinterests are, what do you like in school, what are you doing this summer you're excited about, how are you really, that sort of thing.

I base a lot of my approach on an article I read a long time ago about how to talk to little girls. It suggests, instead of emphasizing their appearance, that we get to know them and appreciate their personality, what their interests and aspirations are, that sort of thing. Then, whatever they like, I'll try to engage with them about it. If they like math I'll do multiplication with them, or tell them how algebra is actually an Arabic word meaning "to bring into balance". If they like science I'll find out what they know or have learned and try to elaborate on it as best as I can, as the son of science teachers. There was a really sweet moment I had with a little girl this week. She was like 11, and when I asked her what her favorite subject was, she said writing. I asked her, what do you write? She said stories. And I said, oh, so you write stories? And she was like, yeah but just in school. And I said but still, that means you write your own stories. And she said, yeah I do write my own stories! With a note of brightness in her voice, like she might not have realized that was something she did, and could do.

Will that little girl grow up to be a writer? I'll never know, maybe not. But hopefully I gave her a sense of agency. I only remember that interaction because it happened this week. I've talked, at this point, to hundreds if not thousands of children, and had similar interactions. Other times it's less overtly inspiring, sometimes it's just something short or silly, or easy or difficult. I'm always trying for moments like that.

So it felt appropriate that at the same time as that bit of my Jekyll and Hyde character came out, I discovered this poem: Ode to the Women on Long Island, by Olivia Gatwood.

As a poem, I do have some mixed feelings about it. I feel like the author is speaking to a specifically white, middle class experience. But if that's her experience, she should speak to it. And as a feminist, when I come across art that speaks to the experience of women, where so much media is about men and masculinity in ways both direct and indirect, I really try to listen. And listening in this case, I realized I've met many of these women. And just like with their children, I try to relate to them as well, as much as I'm ultimately able to.

I talk a lot in my stand up, and in my life, about being a feminist. And as much as I might joke about it, and I try to remain mildly and appropriately self deprecating as a straight white cis male, I'm really not fucking around. The condition of women and girls is deteriorating globally before our very eyes (in spite of the progress we made in the 20th century), and it's up to all of us to stop it, to do whatever we can.

This video from the Population Reference Bureau does a good job of breaking down the statistics.

For me, it's telling jokes.

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