Schprechen sie Tweetenshlize!

I joined Twitter late in the game. Only a year ago to be exact. Well past the days when Kogi BBQ was making a Korean taco truck the newest LA food craze and Ashton Kutcher was proving himself to be more Internet savvy than most tech CEOs. Like most people, I just couldn’t grasp the point of the whole thing. Microblogging? Really? What was next – microteaching? Microjobinterviewing?

But eventually I caved and signed up for an account. A few minutes ago, I sent my 409th tweet. 409 thoughts, pictures, questions, and opinions shared with the global Internet community. And it’s been wicked fun.

No, I’ve never tweeted about what I ate for lunch. I’ll be the first to give props to Conan O’Brien’s Twitter Tracker sketches for brilliantly ridiculing the mundane tweets of celebrities. Still, if a fan in North Dakota really enjoys hearing that Jessica Simpson had tacos for lunch, who am I to judge?

Because ultimately, as humans, we just want to be heard, acknowledged, and validated. And we’ll take it where we can get it. Being on Twitter and having over 100 followers might mean nothing to you, but it feels pretty damn good to me. Knowing that some of those people actually read what I have to say feels even better. And if just one of my kooky thoughts or random pictures brings a smile to someone’s face, then the circle is complete.

This weekend, I’ll be tweeting non-stop from the geeky halls of the 2010 San Diego Comic-Con International. Check out my profile page at twitter.com/teresapalooza to see what I’m up to. Follow me. Or don’t follow me. But rest assured, I will be microblogging the day away.

The Long and Short Hair of it All

Christopher Pitta at the Salon 3 is a genius. After years of attentively cutting my hair to match whatever magazine photo or celebrity headshot I brought him, I finally said to him one day, “Do something.”

His eyes lit up. “I’m going to give you the haircut you should have had all along,” he said as he expertly snipped, explaining the unique weight of my hair and describing its tendencies as if it were an independent being.

An hour later, I walked out with the best haircut I’ve ever gotten in my life. It framed my face perfectly, was relatively low maintenance, and looked amazing. I loved it! And I’ve gotten the same hair cut for the past two years.

Until now.

At a recent MAPID event, guest speaker Ron Taylor, VP of Diversity Development at FOX, spoke to the fact that most television networks still feel diversity casting can be too edgy for traditional audiences, so they tend to cast diverse actors in more conventional roles – Asian doctor, Indian IT guy, Mexican mechanic.

His words resonated with me at the deepest level. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve auditioned to play a reporter, nurse, or doctor. I’ve never minded - work is work. But on this particular night, Ron’s words took me in a totally different direction.

I booked nine television roles in 2007. Since then, I’ve only booked two. One in 2009 and one so far this year. The number of my auditions has significantly decreased too. What happened between then and now?

I walked out of the Salon 3 with my perfect haircut.

It’s hard not to draw parallels. Now before you protest that I should be free to be whoever I want and that talent is talent no matter what I look like, let’s remember that this isn’t reality we’re talking about here. This is showbiz. There’s not a lot I can control when it comes to my acting career, but I can control my hairstyle.

So I’m letting my perfect haircut go and growing my hair to a more conventional length. New headshots will follow. Don’t cry for me Argentina, because ultimately the goal of any actor is to work. To book jobs, gain experience, and move forward. I’m simply doing what I need to do to create the most opportunity for myself.

As for Christopher Pitta, he’s still a genius. You should all go see him. To me, he’ll always be the guy who gave me a new goal in my career – be successful enough to get my hair cut any way I want. Then I shall return.

Fiction Friday: Invisibility Cloak Not Necessary, Part 2

Click here to read Invisibility Cloak Not Necessary, Part 1

It’s hard not to be in love with Harry. Everyone is, really. Sure, some of the girls gossip about Ron Weasley’s red hair, but they’re only setting their sights on him as a way to get closer to Harry. Why would any girl in their right mind be attracted to Ron Weasley? Walking ball of disaster, he is. But he’s Harry’s closest friend and that gives his life meaning.

We talked once, Harry and I. On the walk back from Hogsmeade last spring. The entire school was walking in clusters, some larger than others, up the grassy hill. I was by myself, of course, sipping the last of my pumpkin juice and thinking about the way Harry scratches the back of his neck. A few of the first years were walking too close to the Whomping Willow when it decided to take a swing at them. Everyone had the sense to duck except for one clueless boy who got swept up by his robe. The Whomping Willow sent him flying into Draco Malfoy and his thuggish clique. Everybody on the hill started laughing at the sight of this first year boy knocking them down like bowling pins. (I read about bowling in a Muggle book.)

I started laughing too. The day was beautiful, and for a moment I forgot that I had no friends, that my Ravenclaw housemates had collectively decided to leave me a loner rather than include me in their conversations, their world. I laughed for perhaps the first time all year.

And then he was there. Laughing too as he walked right past me. Hermione was whispering something into Ron’s ear, so Harry turned to me and said, “That’ll teach him, huh?”

I froze like an idiot. Harry Potter was talking to me. Offering a connection. It caught me by such surprise I just stared at him, mouth agape, completely confused. I had dreamed about this moment for so long, but it didn’t look like this. I had the conversation planned in my head like a road map. Where I would be, what he would say, how I would relate to him easily and intimately. We’d talk about missing our parents and how we both thought Professor Flitwick was tall for a goblin. It was my fantasy, after all.

But this wasn’t right. I wasn’t prepared for our first conversation to be about something as trivial as the Whomping Williow attacking some clueless first years. So before I knew what was happening, I opened my mouth and said, “No!”

Harry crinkled his brow, taking my outburst as an answer to his question and attempting to understand its meaning. As the realization of what I did started to wash over me, I was rescued when Hermione finished with Ron and possessively grasped Harry’s arm to get his attention. Harry turned away and it was over. The trio walked ahead, deep in conversation, deep in love with each other.

I fell to the ground and buried my face in the warm grass, closing my eyes, cursing my pathetic response time. How many people did Harry Potter talk to outside his inner circle? Not many. But for some otherworldly reason, he turned to me and I blew it. I would always be that weird girl who said “No!” on the walk back from Hogsmeade. My story had been made. My future determined.

I am in love with Harry Potter, but that love will always be mine, never his. I’ll keep it in a jar by my bed, wear it across my shoulders like a cape, bury it deep behind my sad eyes. If the Dark Lord kills him, I’ll be at his funeral. Standing alone in the back, weeping for our missed connection. Ron and Hermione will look over at me and ask each other who I am, but they’ll never really understand. Why should I care if he lives or dies? Harry Potter has no idea who I am.

My First Rejection Letter!

From The New Yorker Shouts & Murmurs editor:

Dear Teresa,

We’re sorry to say that your piece, “Invisibility Cloak Not Necessary,” wasn’t right for us, despite its evident merit. Thank you for allowing us to consider your work.

Best regards,

The Shouts Dept.

Can’t help but feel the bit about my work’s “evident merit” is a backhanded compliment, but I am definitely grateful for the personalized response. I remain positive, knowing this is the first of many rejection letters I’ll receive as I continue to write and put my work out there. Bring 'em on!

Fiction Friday: Invisibility Cloak Not Necessary

Harry Potter has no idea who I am. Why should I care if he lives or dies? We’ve had the same classes for years, but he’s never once sat next to me, asked me about my day, or given me any indication that he even knows my name. I wonder if he does. I wonder if he’ll ever know how much I love him.

I watch him every day, walking through hallways, oblivious to my presence. Always locked in some intense conversation or another with those two friends of his. Everyone says the Dark Lord wants to kill him, and he acts as if the rumors are real. He’s so serious all the time. I wonder what makes him happy. I often stare at the back of his head during Potions. His dark hair, soft and messy, makes me want to reach out and touch him on the shoulder. I want to make him smile. I want him to smile at me. Recognize me. See me.

We’re the same, you know. Different, special, unique. Except he has friends and I have none. I’ll ask him about that someday. How he came to this school with so much fame and learned how to have what most people would call a normal life. Friends, sports, more fame. How did he do it?

I came to this school with nothing. My parents are dead (just like Harry’s!) so I was raised by my Aunt Livvy. She wasn’t the most brilliant wizard by any means. She’d been a good student at Hogwarts, but life simply had other plans for her. When I was growing up, she worked at the Three Broomsticks as a barmaid, coming home well into the evening, dropping her daily tips into a jar by her bed. “Someday,” she’d always say as she delivered each coin, one by one. “Someday I’m going to buy a broom and leave this place. There are wizards all over the world, you know. I’ll go someplace and be somebody.”

Aunt Livvy was always sad. Unfulfilled might be a better word. She never talked about what happened, where her wizard life had turned toward the ordinary, but she wore her sadness like a cape. She always looked so weighed down.

She never did buy a broom. She sent me to Hogwarts instead. I study hard, knowing she sacrificed her dream so I could have mine. Though I would throw it all away if Harry Potter would only take my hands into his and say, “I’ll take care of you.”

Click here to read Invisibility Cloak Not Necessary, Part 2

Interpretation is in the Eye of the Beholder

It’s not something I’d do.

Well?

It’s not what I expected.

You sure?

See a story in those four lines? Then you should enter the Interpretations Film Contest, run by the team behind the blog You Offend Me You Offend My Family. The challenge is simple – present your interpretation of the script in a three-minute short film. Five winners will be awarded $3,000 each and bragging rights for decades.

When I heard about the contest, I instantly envisioned a story and wrote out my interpretation. I asked two of my favorite people in the world to be my cast and another friend to be my editor. I’m planning to direct the short myself – my directorial debut!

I’m excited and inspired, which is exactly what the contest was hoping for. To quote the mission statement, “The point is to convey the message that all types of filmmaking will be embraced as long as there is an original vision behind it.” I look forward to presenting my vision to the contest judges and to the world. Watch this blog for more details on my Interpretations production!

Inspired yourself? Check out these professional examples that were created to launch the contest. The following are two of my favorites. Watch and see how diverse the interpretations can be!

The Size of Your Elephant Doesn’t Matter

Pop quiz. You have a refrigerator and you have an elephant. How do you get the elephant into the refrigerator?

Jace Hall, the executive producer of ABC’s alien drama V, posed that question at a panel I attended last Saturday called EMERGING as an ARTIST in Today's Global New Media World. He pointed at a guy in the first row for an answer.

“Get a blender!”

The audience gave an obligatory chuckle. Jace explained that funny guy’s answer was actually right in line with most people’s answers. Chop it up, shrink ray, fold it in half, etc. – all variations on the same theme – it can’t be done easily. Jace went on to say, “If you ask a six year old the same question, he’ll say ‘I open the refrigerator and put the elephant in it.’ “

His terrific point, if you haven’t figured it out already, is that we create obstacles where they needn’t be any. We’re the ones who decide that the elephant can’t possibly fit inside the fridge. We picture the fridge in our kitchen and Barnum & Bailey's Jumbo rather than a walk-in fridge and a baby elephant. We see the obstacles so instantly. Why not learn to un-see them?

The other panelists – Kelly Hu, Sandeep Parikh, and Mitch Allan – all spoke to the same point. If you want to be an actor, writer, musician, or any form of artist, no one is stopping you but you. With the power and reach of the Internet plus the wide availability of tools and resources at a nominal cost, it’s easier than ever to have the artistic career you dream of. All you have to do is do it.

Inspiring words that definitely resonated with me as I come into my own as an artist. This summer, I’m writing, writing, writing while going to auditions and producing two short films, one of which will be my directorial debut. No more waiting around for opportunities. I’m creating my own.

Get ready, Mr. Elephant. It’s refrigerator time.