My Debut Performance at The Moth

Remember when I said I didn’t have any good stories to tell? That wasn’t true. I have one good story. About the time I went to Area 51 with a bunch of X-Files fan friends and ended up stranded in the Nevada desert by myself. I’ve always considered it my only Moth-worthy story.

So when I looked at The Moth StorySLAM schedule and noticed the theme on my birthday was “Ditched,” I knew it was time to lose my Moth virginity.

I began by inviting friends to witness my debut, partly for the support and partly so I wouldn’t chicken out. The die had been cast.

I practiced telling my story out loud several times, timing it, streamlining the details to get it down to the five minute limit. I probably should have typed it up, but life was in the way of such detailed preparation. I did a few dry runs while driving in the car and hoped for the best.

On the night, most of my friends were surprised to hear that names would be pulled out of a hat. There was a chance I wouldn’t get to tell my story at all. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Whatever happened would happen.

The evening began with a lukewarm bang. The early stories were random at best. One seemingly crazy man ripped his shirt off during his story, leaving my friends cringing with unease. Was this going to be the trend all night?

But eventually the stories got better. One woman told a heartbreaking story about getting ditched at a hotel in Salt Lake City by her boyfriend. Another guy told a fascinating story about offering a ride to a nurse sitting at a bus station, only to realize she was a crazy homeless person. The long process of trying to ditch her was edge-of-the-seat compelling.

Still, my name hadn’t been picked. Then one of my friends, who’d also put his name in the hat, got called to tell his story. Then a second friend in my group got to tell her story. My friends started to cross their fingers in the air each time the host picked from the hat, only to let out an audible “Aww!” when it wasn’t my name. They looked at me each time, checking for the disappointment they expected must be creeping in.

Finally, it was time for the last storyteller of the night. The crossed fingers raised high in the air. My friends closed their eyes and mumble-chanted, “Teresa, Teresa, Teresa…”

The host read the name into the mic. “Teresa Huang.”

I’ll never forget the sound of my friends screaming for joy in unison. Everyone else in the place must have thought we were crazy. I explained when I got on stage that it was my birthday. And then I told my story.

My time on stage went by quickly. The lights were so bright, I could barely see anyone in the audience, let alone my cluster of friends near the back. I felt confident while telling my story, grateful for all my preparation and able to let go and just have fun.

After my story ended, the judges gave their scores. And while the Taiwanese part of me remains ever humble to a fault, I’m happy to report that I received the second highest score of the night! (The winner was the guy who told the story about ditching the homeless woman from his car.)

All in all, a thrilling night and the most perfect birthday I could have hoped for. Thanks to my beautiful friends who came out to support me. And thanks to the #xf-romantics for inspiring the story in the first place!

My Zine Dream Revisited

It would not be an exaggeration to say that in high school, my life revolved around the pages of Sassy Magazine. My best friend and I devoured every inch of Jane Pratt’s grrl power meets teen fashion publication each month. The magazine’s voice was fresh and unique. They criticized vapid celebs! They featured models with braces! They did stories about oppression of women in Iraq and animal testing! Sassy was beyond cool.

One of my favorite regular features was Zine of the Month, in which the mag would gush about an oh-so-cool zine they’d discovered and give instructions for how to get a copy. I sent away for a few that sounded interesting, marveling at the random, Xeroxed booklets I received that had somehow captured Sassy’s adoration. I didn’t really understand what zines were back then. This was before Urban Outfitters and American Apparel made hipster culture mainstream. Zines were from the true underground and I loved the idea of them.

My best friend and I spent many a day planning our own zine. It was going to be filled with our scintillating wit and unique perspective on the world. I would write pieces about recycling haters & the useless nature of 7th grade boys, emulating Sassy’s intelligently flippant tone, then share them with her during lunchtime editing sessions. I pictured us publishing the zine, getting chosen as Sassy’s Zine of the Month, and becoming instantly and irrevocably cool.

We never did publish our zine. I never became cool. But the dream lives on.

While taking a break from writing last night (procrastinating), I was surfing etsy and was surprised when I noticed a Zines section. People are still making these things! Quirky, low-frills, self-produced pages filled with original writing, art, or ramblings, copied and stapled together by hand. Some zines were fancy comic/art books, like the trendy cute Kewpie the Super Hero or the gorgeous White Rice Fish. Others were traditional word collage creations like Blank the Plague or independent music zines like Burnout.

Instantly my desire to publish my own zine came back in full force. The panic of “why would anyone want to read what I have to say?” has significantly subsided since high school, so this time around it might actually happen.

I brainstormed provocative, compelling topics that would inspire etsy buyers to pick me instead of a cool title like I Had Too Much to Dream Last Night. Here’s my short list for now – which one do you want to read?

• What I Hate About My Friend Abigail* (*Her name has been changed, but this shit is real.)
  
  
• Things I Didn't Understand About 80's TV
  
  
• Diet Tips For The Lazy And Uncommitted
  
  
• Snap Judgments About Guys Named James (Based On Experience)
  
  
• Nerd Shame – Confessions of a Half-Way Geek
  
  
• Freakishly Long Toes and Other Stories from my Childhood
  

Place your vote in the comments below and get ready to place your order!

Ira Glass is My Creative Hero

Just when I thought nothing could make me love Ira Glass more:

Life-altering advice for me, considering I’m in the throes of gap dwelling right now, looking at all the prolific writers around me thinking, “How do they do it?”

Thanks to Ira, I know that the “how” is kind of irrelevant. Knowing “how” isn’t going to give me any peace. All I need to know is that they do it. They fight their way through the awfulness of the gap and get better. And so shall I.

Easier said than done, of course. The inner critic/fire-breathing monster that lives in the gap is powerful and devastating. It feeds greedily on doubt and judgment, gorging itself, knowing that food is abundant. It will never go hungry.

But Ira Glass comes to my rescue, handing me the mighty sword of self-forgiveness. My taste-ful eyes close and I focus on the task at hand. And I start across the divide, swinging as I go, tripping over rocks and blocks along the way, knowing that each painful step brings me closer to home.

My Wish List Revealed

My birthday is this month. Yes, I’m a Taurus. Stubborn as bulls, we are!

Another trait that may or may not be related to being a Taurus – I have troble asking for what I want. For nearly all my birthday parties in the past, I’ve asked guests to bring various donations for charity instead of bringing me a gift. But as a dear friend recently told me, this was often perceived as tacky and made people not want to be around me because there’s nothing festive about feeling guilty. Sigh…and I thought I was creating good karma for myself.

So this year, since I’m not buying anything as a rule, I figure I might as well try asking for what I want. Check out my Amazon.com Wish List for all the things I would love to receive for my birthday, if you feel moved to get me a gift.

While none of these are true necessities, they’re not terribly extravagant desires either. I’m blessed with an abundant life – there’s nothing I really need. These are just a few things I’d love to have.

And most of them don’t need to be brand new – I’d prefer hand-me-downs where applicable. Let’s keep the carbon footprints down, people!

But the best gift I could receive in honor of my birthday is for you to follow, share, and comment on my blog. I love writing it and it makes me happy when I feel like someone’s actually reading it. It’s the simple things in life, really.

Thanks and happy birthday to me!

Actor Headshots: The Variety Pack Approach

I need new pictures. Now.

After deciding to grow out my hair last July, I got a new round of headshots to show off my longer locks. You can view them by clicking Headshots above. Pretty pictures, right?

Wrong. These headshots are killing my career softly with each passing day of my phone not ringing.

They’re lovely photographs, yes, but they’re way too generic for my acting career. Where’s the picture that shows I can play an earnest medical student with a perfectionist streak? Where’s my dorky office worker who tries to hard? Where’s my cynical best friend who’s covering insecurity?

In other words, where’s the variety?

Unless a casting director already knows your work, headshots are their window into your range as an actor. Gone are the days of getting two contrasting headshots to be made into 8x10 pictures. Also gone is the notion that smiling shots are commercial and non-smiling shots are theatrical. Casting directors want to see a variety of headshots that show your range.

That doesn’t mean you need to spend hundreds on several different 8x10s. Nearly all casting is now done electronically, which means you can showcase a wide variety of looks without having to reproduce any of them into hard copies.

Here’s a further illustration of the specificity needed in headshots these days. (Disclaimer: I don’t know these actors. I just stumbled across their resumes and thought they proved my point beautifully.)

Take this actor: http://resumes.actorsaccess.com/175077-566925

He's wearing different clothes in each picture, but essentially you’re looking at the exact same head. Same eyes, same energy, same expression – same character. Average guy.

Now look at this actor: http://resumes.actorsaccess.com/117381-394181

Just start by noticing all the different looks he has wearing the same business suit – district attorney, stern cop, sexy detective, easygoing office guy. His energy is slightly different in each picture. He also has several different casual looks, both dramatic and comedic – cute boyfriend, young dad, fun college dude, serious off-duty cop. Even the first and last headshots in this pic above are different – the first is a courtroom lawyer, the last is a police detective.

Bottom line – a wider range of looks in your portfolio means you or your agent can make your headshot submissions more specific, which helps your picture stand out from the crowd. Case in point - which actor would you call to audition for a hard-nosed Wall Street executive?

Now look at my pictures again –

They’re all the same! Crap!

I need new pictures. Now.

Interval Writing

Two dear friends are training to run marathons this summer – one to raise money for the American Stroke Association and the other for the American Heart Association. I’m thoroughly impressed. Running 26.22 miles straight feels like an impossible goal for my lazy ass, but as they explained to me the other day, training for a marathon is easy when you run in intervals.

They suggested starting small – walk for 4 minutes, run for 1 minute, and repeat. Then modify the interval as I build stamina. They said that even when they’re running the actual marathon, they still run in intervals – 9 minutes of running and 1 minute of walking. Breaking it down that way made the task seem much less intimidating to me. I can totally train for a marathon, I thought.

And then I had an epiphany. I could apply the same theory of interval training to my writing!

Because ever since starting my day job, attempting to write after an 8-hour workday has been stressing me out and often not working at all. I’ll set a goal of 4 hours a night and fail miserably. Some nights I’ll be lucky to get even one hour of productive work done!

Now I’m writing in 30-minute intervals. It seems short, I know. How much can you really get done in 30 minutes? It can take that long just to get warmed up.

But I’ll squeeze in 30 minutes whenever I can. I’ll open my laptop as soon as I open my eyes in the morning and write for 30 minutes even before I get out of bed. Then I write for 30 minutes during my lunch break at work. By the time I settle in for my evening writing session, I’ve already gotten an hour of work done that day! And that momentum sends me into my new interval writing routine – write for 30 minutes then do something else for 10-15 minutes – watch TV, Facebook, whatever – and repeat.

So simple and it’s working! I’m getting more work done and I feel less stressed, which is fantastic.

Now I just need to try this technique with my running. Ugh. I think I’ll go write instead...

My No-Buy Resolution: An Update

For those who have been wondering, my No-Buy Resolution continues swimmingly. I’ve had two minor slips – birthday gifts for 4-year old bought with a gift card and a wad of cash spent on homeopathic remedies – but otherwise I haven’t purchased a thing all year.

It’s been easy, really. I just don’t go to stores anymore. Out of sight, out of mind. That’s it! I don’t feel tempted to shop at all.

And the fact that I don’t miss purchasing things shows me how unnecessary shopping is for my life. Ask me to stop watching television or eating pizza – that would be hard. But buying stuff? Who needs it? Certainly not me.

I think this hasn’t been a difficult challenge for me because for years I’ve been realizing I don’t need much to live a contented life.

I think back to my college years, when spending a day at the Cambridgeside Galleria with friends was my recreational activity of choice. Shopping was a social experience where the frosting on top was coming home with bags of new stuff. I don’t know how or when it happened, but I was trained to be a consumer, a role I fulfilled blindly and joyfully.

Slowly but surely, I learned to see that I just don’t need STUFF. Moving cross-country was my first eye opener. I sold half my belongings and spent over $1000 to ship the rest to Los Angeles, only to realize later that I probably could have let go of another third of it. With every subsequent move, I got rid of more stuff. And after many, many trips to drop off at Goodwill, I started to realize I probably didn’t need to buy most of that stuff in the first place.

So now I’m not buying anything and my life continues beautifully. And with each passing day, I acknowledge the truth that I have everything I need right here, right now. I live an incredibly abundant life – clothes and shoes to wear, two sets of sheets for my queen-sized bed, a car that works beautifully, and pens with which to write and write. I have it all!