I'm an unlicked cub!

From: "Four Dogs and a Bone"

By: John Patrick Shanley (one of my favorite Playwrights)

BRADLEY: Once there was a great big pregnant bear.

VICTOR: Are you really doing this?

BRADLEY: And after a painful labor, she gave birth to seven baby bears.

VICTOR: Seven.

BRADLEY: So she was very tired.

VICTOR: Sure.

BRADLEY: And she looked at her seven babies, and they were all gooey and slimy with afterbirth. And in that miraculous way that Nature has built the bear, she felt in her heart a tremendous welling up of material feeling.

VICTOR: Maternal feeling.

BRADLEY: Right. And this maternal feeling filled her with strength, so she licked and licked and licked her babies, one after the other, rendering them clean and fresh and beautiful. That is until she got to the seventh little bear. Right then, she ran out of gas, hadda seizure, and dropped dead. Muerto. And the six, well-tended little bears, with their beautiful brown coats, shed a tear, a tender tear, and bounded off into the woods. To have wonderful lives. And the seventh cub, the unlicked cub, went into show business."

And I'm the last child out of four... NO WONDER!

New Dog

Summer has passed and now its back to the real world. Its time to get back on my grind and hussle.

Highlight this summer is the new dog. It was a very unexpected last minute decision. She is so affectionate and I love her dearly. Her name is Azriel (from "The Smurfs", this was Villain Gargamel's cat's name). Azriel is only 8 months old, and absolutely LOVES to play.

Now I have 2 adorable, fun, loving dog's to keep me company.

Dressing Rooms

Here's one of the funny things about this business:
Majority of scripts contain more male roles than female roles.
However, there are more female actors than there are male actors.

So what does that mean for us ladies:
Dressing rooms all to ourselves without having to share with so many other females, while the men are all cramped up in theirs.

Crocheting on Stage

One of my recent shows required me to crochet on stage (it was one of those things where the actor needed some kind of physical thing to do to help drive the scene). Since I have been crocheting since the 5th grade, this was not a problem for me and didn't distract me from the scene. It was like walking and chewing gum at the same time.

Well, after one of the performances, one of my supporters says to me, "When you were crocheting, I said 'She's not acting! She's really doing it, crocheting! I can tell!' ". I then thought to myself a few hours later: But isn't that what acting is??? On stage, or in front of the camera, you have to really do it.

I can't imagine going on stage and saying to myself "OK Talia, it's time to pretend again." No! I have to say, "OK Talia, let go of yourself and become this person. You are not pretending to be the character; you are the character." This is why an actor chooses to act in the first place; to get out of their head and live in someone else's shoes for a few moments in time. To feel, react, and respond as someone else. Not to pretend or comment on, but to truly become. Even on the crappiest days, when I have to walk into a rehearsal or about to perform, it is rewarding to not think about my problems and let go for a couple of hours. Its nice to forget about things that are bugging me and to live in someone else's shoes, forcing me to forget about myself and my issues. This is what being an actor is. Letting go of yourself completely and "doing you" as someone else.

So the next time you see me crocheting on stage or on a screen, don't think of it as , "Oh, there goes Talia doing the shell stitch as she crochets." Remind yourself that you are not watching Talia perform, but seeing her live through someone else's life for that brief moment in time.

Coda (for Freddie Blue)

(Taken from Talia's Acting Journal, 5/29/10 entry)

So, I have been rehearsing for an original play, Coda (for Freddie Blue). Its an original piece, which will be playing at The Puerto Rican Traveling Theatre.

As the lead, it has felt overwhelming at times. Trying to memorize chunks of monologues and very lengthy scenes, along with everything else I have to do in my life. But I'm coming along. I really like the character. All the characterization work I'm doing is really helping me understand her and bring her to life. She is really intense to play. Her emotional arch throughout the play is more like a circle. I think that by the end of each performance, I would have experienced so many hightened emotions a human can experience within 2 hours.

Because of the time constraint, I have made sure to do all of my characterization homework. I haven't put this much effort in a role in a while it seems; scoring my script, writing bios and givens, reviewing all directional notes before rehearsals. It feels good to really engage in the process, which I love. I enjoy the process more than the product sometimes when it comes to doing a show. I have also learned to let go and not become the character, but let her become me. I am so excited to do this production.

AIDS Walk

This past Sunday, on May 16th 2010, I walked in NYC's AIDS Walk in Central Park. This was my third consecutive walk, in which I participated with Nite Star. I think its great, as a Theatre Company to walk to together in this event. The work that we do is so rewarding. It feels so good to participate in an event, like AIDS Walk, where we can feel something bigger than ourselves. Everyone there for the same reason, the same cause, the same frustration. Frustration, because after so many years, there is no cure for HIV/AIDS. For the past three years, I have walked for those I have lost in my family, and those that are still infected today.

This year I decided to bring my dog, Emjae, to walk. She was so excited to be among so many new people. I also put her in an official Nite Star T-shirt. She was our honorary mascot for the day. It was awesome. I'm glad that I was able to share this event with her, as I consider her to be a very important part of the family.

In our gear, here are some pics of us during the walk.