The Road So Far...

This week's post comes to you courtesy of bullshit. I really didn't have time to think up anything meaningful to write about, but before I sat down to just hammer the keys into decently-formed sentences and see what happened, I realized that I never explained to you readers what occurred in my life between my hiatus and the blog's revival, and after all, if you're bothering to read anything I post, you all just wanna know everything about me. So here we go: my life from January 2013 until September 2013.

And you're required to play this while you read:

JANUARY

When I left you all I had been talking about how I was recently cast in a production of RENT as Roger, and was then desperately looking for employment. Well, since I had a long wait ahead of me until RENT started I decided to try out for the annual production of Jesus Christ Superstar here in Syracuse. I went in, sang "I Want to Break Free" from the musical We Will Rock You, and secured a nice role in the ensemble. I wanted to play Judas or Simon, but considering the talents of the guys who did land those parts I wasn't too bummed in the end. I did get a cool solo as a Priest in "This Jesus Must Die," one of my favorite songs from the show. But wait: a last minute recasting brought in Tony-nominee Philip Boykin to fill in as Caiaphas, meaning I would get to be on stage with him in that song and singing to him. A Broadway dude. So that was awesome. He's a real nice guy. Also, my killer beard made a grand return to my face for the show.
Oh, and somewhere in that time period I got a job as a host at an Olive Garden. I'd like to forget that experience as much as possible so we'll leave it at that.

FEBRUARY

Um...not much. Single Awareness Day came and went. I did my usual act of listening to The Smiths and wallowing in single despair. Alone. Oh, and the Groundhog Day marathon on Groundhog Day. That was awesome.
Jesus Christ Superstar rehearsals still going on.
Still at Olive Garden. Hadn't yet gone postal.

MARCH

Woohoo more theatre auditions!!! I tried out for a bunch of shows at the Red House Arts Center received multiple callbacks for further readings and singings. Jesus Christ Superstar had its one and only performance on the 31st and was awesome as expected. I managed to make some new friends out of the show and had an all around great time in one of my favorite shows.

APRIL

Red House got back to me and I learned I was cast in their productions of Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson and Dog Sees God as ensemble and Matt, respectively. Also, that SyFy Channel film Battledogs I worked on last fall had its television premiere, and my background cameo was in plain sight. It's also streaming on Netflix currently; look for me around the 14 minute mark. I'm wearing black scrubs and looking cold.
Later this month I managed to catch a show starring my good friend Amanda called Suds, a '60s jukebox musical. She was fantastic, of course. She always is. Girl's gonna be famous.

                                                   Yeah, we're cooler than you. Deal with it.

MAY

I went up to Buffalo to celebrate my birthday for the night. One of the few things I remember is almost lighting the bartender on fire. I spent the next day with the girls moaning and writhing on the floor and couches before driving home.
Also I was offered my old position at W.B. Mason back so I quit Olive Garden faster than you can say...like, anything. However, my shifts go from 6:00am 'til when-the-fuck-ever. So...that catches up with you.

JUNE

I start rehearsals for RENT, and that and work become my life from now through...

JULY

...until...

AUGUST

And I wish I had the time to properly explain just how amazing the experience was, but I don't, so here's a picture.

                                                That's me in the pants. You know which pants.

I tell you, I've been in a lot of shows, but the people in this cast were some of the best people I've ever been lucky to meet, let alone perform on stage with. It was a time I'll never forget. Also every show was sold out, so that fucking rocked.

SEPTEMBER

I restarted the blog and started rehearsals for Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson. So that gets us all caught up, really. And now I can actually say I'm sticking to my one-post-a-week promise. So, it's win/win, right? Now, let's see if I can stick to that policy next week when I start my 12 hour weekend rehearsals. I really can't promise anything, so...hey, find something else to read.


Sayonara, Shadow the Hedgehog,
Tyler


P.S. Idris Elba is the fucking man and if you disagree I will fight you.

Wake Me in Time to Be Lonely and Sad

Good morning readers! It's not morning when I write this, and it may or may not be morning when you read this, but someone somewhere is just waking up, I know it. My plan for my Blog Comeback Tour was to write a new post every Sunday night. However, tomorrow night I begin rehearsals for the next show I'm in, "Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson," and once that starts I will only be half-existing in the conscious world until October. See, rehearsals go until 10-11 at night, and it takes me 45 minutes to drive home after, and I get up at 4:30-5 Mondays through Fridays for work, and will be going straight to rehearsals after my shifts now, so...if you see me on the street just don't talk to me unless I have a cup of coffee in my hand.

                                                        This will be me on a good day.

But this post is not about my slow, painful death from exhaustion. No, today we're going to talk about escaping from that shit. One of my very first posts was about my dreams and how beyond fucked up they are. This post will be a sort of continuation of that one, but on a different theme entirely. You see, I may complain about how my subconscious makes me question my sanity, and how I'll unfortunately never be able to try LSD for fear of my head having a Scanners moment, but at the end of the day I love my dreams because they're not my real life.

You're confused? You stupid motherfucker, I'll explain it, then. Most of the time when I'm dreaming, I'm not even in the dream, if that makes any sense. It's just my eyes watching something unfold in my mind, like watching a movie that no one else could ever write because they wouldn't even know how to have it make sense. I see characters that either I thought up, have seen in other movies, or that I know personally, and they're all running around from monsters or shooting each other or just doing cool shit. And where am I during all of this? Up in the air, gliding over all, watching these scenes unfold.

                                                           "Aw man, I wanna play too!"

So what? you may be asking. So you get to watch cool movies in your sleep. My dreams do that too sometimes. Yeah, but I'm not saying that I'm the only guy who does it. Maybe I do it best, but I can't be the only one who has dreams like that. What I'm saying is those dreams are really cool because they defy what is available to us in the real world. Those dream movies are perfect because they are everything I want in entertainment without the restrictions of money or special effects or actor availability. They are an escape from our earthly limitations, a brief moment of perfection. And isn't that just wonderful when we can get it?

I'm not saying I'd rather live in my dreams than in reality, but I kind of am. It's just, I've been very, very unlucky in my affections throughout my life, and whenever I get a dream where I'm spending some time with a girl or kissing her or fighting off monsters with her, it's one that I'm just devastated to wake up from. I've mentioned before that I never have sex dreams per-say, but what I have is so much better in the long run, I think. I'll dream about a girl I like and we'll just be hanging out somewhere, getting dinner or a drink and just talking. I'll kiss her maybe, and that's just the fucking best because it'll feel so real. Then when I wake up I remember that whoever I just dreamed about is not my girlfriend, whether she was a friend or a celebrity.

For example, the other night I had a dream that I was hanging around with Lea Michele, 'cause we knew each other somehow (it's a dream, reasons be damned). She was sad about something so I hugged her in a comforting manner, and the next thing you know we're locking lips. It was amazing, and now I suddenly have a crush on Lea Michele. I mean, before I just thought she was hot, but it's different now.

                                                      I love a girl with coffee in her hand.

I've had another dream similar to that one, although there was no making out at the end of it. It involved myself and some friends including a girl I'd just met, and we were all hanging out in some big park at night. The girl and I broke away from the group because she needed to talk to me about something I don't remember, but it was just the two of us walking through this park in the dark with the little path lights glowing around us. I don't remember what we talked about, I just remember being there with her and not wanting to leave. In the end, as my dreams seem to show me, more than a relationship I just want to be able to be there for someone I care about when she needs someone.

Before things get too serious, though, some of the girls I've completely dreamt up have been pretty awesome dream-girlfriends too. There was Dawn, the super hot Asian girl who I was in a group of freedom fighters with, and Krystal, a princess who I rescued from some weird mutant guy in a shopping mall (after various failed attempts. I died a lot in that dream). I started to make things happen with this one girl in my infamous post-apocalyptic LARP quest dream until a treacherous Steve Buscemi started some shit. Seriously guys, if you want some hilarious and spine-tingling entertainment you need to check out my Dream Logs I used to post on my Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/tyler.ianuzi/notes

There are a lot of them, I know, but they're good. You'll wish you had my dreams, too.

As with all forms of escapism, though, these little excursions all must come to an end. I wake up from these magnificent visions and I'm still in my bed at home, about to go to work and continue my boring, single life. But hey, there's always the chance for another one the next night, right? Lately I've been having dreams featuring Benedict Cumberbatch, though, so the jury's still out on the significance of that.

                                                 "Oh stop pretending you don't like it, Tyler."

Hopefully I'll be able to write something for next week too, but there can be no promises. This is going to be one busy theatre guy for a while. But hey, living the dream, right?

Dream until your dreams come true,
Tyler

P.S. So Breaking Bad last week. Holy shit, right?

I'll Never Turn Back Time

I don't mean to generalize or make assumptions, but I think you're lying if you think the following isn't true: we all have those moments or entire years we feel we'd like to go back and do better on. I, for instance, wish that I had been a goth in high school. I loved the color black and always thought the gothic style was really cool. Plus, I had a thing for goth chicks. However, I never really had the gothic mentality, or money to spend on the clothes/chains. But hey, gothic or not, teenage me was still pretty cool.

                                                                    Coolness

In all seriousness though, while it's fun to imagine being a completely different person all those years ago, there isn't much I'd want to change. I had a great group of people in my circle and was able to do more or less all of the things I wanted to do in high school. I can't look back on my high school years with any real regret. Even my awful bummer of a senior year I believe helped mature me into who I am now. Although, if I could do it all again, I definitely would have at least asked that girl out.

Or would I have?
Now wait a minute, Tyler -- yes, I'm talking to myself but bear with me -- don't you still have trouble asking girls out to this day? What makes you think you'll have any better luck finding the balls to ask her out the second time around?
Well, I...I...don't know. I just figured the second time's a charm, you know? That's what second chances are all about, aren't they?

It's easy to think that way, though. We convince ourselves that, had we just gotten one more chance to do something over, we would've done it right. We tell ourselves: "if I could go back to high school I would bury my face in my books and get into a better college," or "if I could do college again I would focus only on my classes and then get a better job than the one I have now." Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but, no, you wouldn't, because the minute you touch back down into your high school or college years, you'd have the exact same feelings about work you did back then. You'd sit down to read that textbook when your buddies call you up to go bowling, and just like the first go round out the door you go, leaving the reading for another day. You get back to your dorm and decide to get a head start on that 8-pager due at the end of the month when you get a text: "yo dawg we hittin up teh bars lol lets get krunked brah!!1!". Yeah, you're going drinking, 'cause fuck that paper, you'll write it tomorrow, or the night before it's due, you don't care. You're young and will live forever. When you're older you'll look back fondly on the fun you had and not the papers you bullshitted, 'cause that was how you were in your school atmosphere. You could go back in time with the knowledge you have now and try to do it different, but when placed back in the same place with the same homework and the same friends inviting you out for another night of your life, you'll do exactly what you did all those years ago. It wouldn't be you if you did anything else.

                                                         This still would've happened.

I'm not proud of a lot of things in my past, but knowing that there's no other way they could've played at least makes me feel better about what happens now. There's more I could've done but there were reasons why I didn't, and those reasons don't change the second time around. I didn't ask that girl out in high school because I was scared of being rejected, and I didn't study harder because I simply wasn't interested. I spent more time with the theatre club at college than focusing on my major because I was frankly more interested in that. Also drinking. But put me on the spot in front of that girl today and I'd still chicken out and I'd still say "fuck it" to that essay and go get cast in a play or something. To quote one of my favorite songs by Green Day:

"The regrets are useless in my mind."

And that's really the truth, because there is no going back in time. There are no do overs. Whatever happened happened and you acted accordingly with what you thought was right (or wrong but fun anyways) at the time. Your strengths and your flaws can be traced back to that time but that's you now and you're stuck with it. Do I think some things would be better in my life had I done things a little differently? Absolutely. But would I be any better? Who can say? But I'm satisfied with myself. I'm smarter now from the mistakes I've made, and I'm driven more now to do the things I didn't do before. Life, unfortunately, is one giant learning curve, and the prize at the end is self-satisfaction (the good kind). I won't ever have the chance to ask that girl out now, but you know what? Since then I've asked many girls out, and...still nothing, but at least I've tried, dammit, and that's more than that 15 year-old dork with the stupid Anton Chigurh haircut ever did. But it could've been worse, I think. I could've endured some terrible relationships and come out a bitter, misogynistic jerk off like some people I know. Am I sad that I've been unlucky in my many affections? Yes, but never bitter. And girls dig that, I think.

So in short, "forget regret, or life is yours to miss." And there's no such thing as time travel so quit actin' a bitch and move on.

See you in another world, brotha,
Tyler

P.S. If you're really my friend you should have a leather jacket.

Don't Feel Bad for Me, I Want You to Know

Hello again. Some of you may remember that sometime last fall I started a weekly blog and then inexplicably stopped after a few months. Well, here's an explanation at last. If you new readers go back far enough to my first post, you'll get a real good idea of why I started the blog in the first place, as a coping mechanism for that depression thing I was doing in my spare time. After a while my life started to really pick up and I realized I just didn't need the blog anymore to get through the once rough days. Well, fear not, loyal readers, for the blog MUST RETURN!

No, I'm not depressed again. Well...no, nothing's definite, but there have been many a great change in my life since I shut the blog down and many more ch-ch-changes to come in the near-future, and with them the need to chronicle them. Also, it's good practice for my writing, which I've been slacking on, so maybe a weekly exercise like this will help get me back on track. And since I'm a bit of a shut-in, this will help you all continue to get to know me better when we're not Skype-drinking, or drinking downtown, or having a couple beers while...boy I drink a lot, huh? 

So you old readers may notice this blog has a new name. I decided to change it 'cause fuck that old name. I'm using my soon-to-be-old Tumblr name, once I actually take the time to delete my profile and never return to that God forsaken site. I may blog about my new crusade against Tumblr in future posts, but for now I just wanted to write an introduction to PHASE 2 of my blogging. This way I'll have no choice but to post again soon. Seriously, I've been trying to start this up again for the past month but always lost focus. Writing's hard, brah. 

To satisfy you until my first official new post, please enjoy this video of the best thing ever:

                              

                                                   Do you got the moves like Jagger?

Good night Denise!

Tyler

P.S. I'm now the proud owner of a pair of red plaid skinny jeans. And honey, you should see me in 'em.

There Will Be No Scripts on the Night

About a week ago I received some exciting news in that I had been cast to play Roger in a local production of RENT in Syracuse. I'm more than ecstatic over this as since high school it has been my dream to portray Roger in the show, and assuming those Philadelphian mobsters don't catch up to me between now and then that dream will be coming true this summer. I mean, yeah, I have higher aspirations than community theatre, but for artistic reasons this is a great start for me. It's made me reflect on my long history in theatre and acting, the bad times and the worse, and boy, have I learned a lot that I wish everyone could know right out the gate. Things such as:

1. Your castmates will fuck up

And you will never be prepared for it, so you just gotta shit your pants and dive in and swim. My most memorable incident like this occurred in my middle school musical The Music Man. I was playing Tommy Djilas, and the scene called for me to run out onto stage, get caught and held back while the Mayor chews me out, then get inadvertently introduced to the Mayor's daughter to go on a date, resulting in a wacky misunderstanding that gets young Tommy into trouble down the road. Here's what happened instead. I run out onto stage from the wing, I'm stopped by other cast members. The kid playing the Mayor approaches me for the one-sided screaming match. "Tommy Djilas!" he begins, "...What are you doing?" This was not his line. He stopped speaking altogether. There was silence. Nobody was stepping up to save the scene. I did the only thing I could think to do. I replied, "Jeely Kly, I don't know!" And that was the extent of my improv skills. Following my brief but brilliant added-on-the-fly line the scene continued with 10 second stretches of silence interrupted by a kid saying something, ANYTHING, just to stop the awkward. Finally the kid playing Harold Hill managed to fumble his way to one of his actual lines and allow me to run off to the other side of the stage where he would then call me back to him. I hear no line signaling I should return so I just keep going off into the wings. Meanwhile the Mayor's daughter had walked onstage, stood around awkwardly, and then left. Those on stage dispersed, and despite nothing being set up, or even actually happening in the scene, the kid playing a cop still finished the scene with his line, "Well Mr. Hill, you did make one mistake. That was the mayor's daughter." Audience silence. Can't blame them, I'd be wondering what the fuck just happened too.

2. You will fuck up

And you won't be prepared for this either. If there's one part in your dialogue you know you always forget and so focus on getting that right, chances are you'll forget some other line that you remembered every time. The first time I had ever forgotten a line it blew my mind. I had been flawless up until that point, but it was during junior year of high school in the drama production of Rest Assured, a shitty little "comedy" that rips off It's a Wonderful Life, only the protagonist discovers that everyone is actually a lot better off without him. I couldn't care any less about this show than I already did, and maybe that's why the line just fell out of my head. I was supposed to tell someone that the protagonist is "walking in his sleep." Instead, I keep silent, waiting for whatever idiot was late on his or her line. The protagonist's wife, after a brief pause, says to me, "What's he doing, George? Is he walking in his sleep or something?" Alerted to my mistake, I use my acting genius to cover myself as if there was no mistake at all and reply, "He's...walking in his...sleep." See? Like nothing ever happened.
Another time, in the same goddamn play I couldn't give a shit about, I was supposed to enter a scene with a girl as soon as I heard a cue line. The only thing was, all of this guy's lines sounded the same and I entered on the wrong one. I walk on with the girl but before I can speak I see another cast member step forth to say her monologue, you know, 'cause she actually knows what she's doing. I mutter a curse under my breath, turn to the panicked face of the girl I dragged on with me, and then start miming that we're talking...for 10 goddamned minutes until my line actually comes up.

3. Your family is only there to watch you

Whenever I'm in a show, that show and the people I'm acting with are the best things in the world to me. If I'm really into the show, everything we do feels like Broadway. My co-stars are Daniel Day-Lewis and Robert Downey, Jr. The choreography is spot-on and beautiful. The orchestra is worthy of playing with John Williams. Needless to say, unless you're actually in a professional show, this is almost always not the case, but I love it regardless. Whenever I'm in a show, I'm excited for my family and friends to come see the show. Not just to see me, but because I want them to see how great the show as a whole is, and how amazing and talented everyone else in the cast is, or see how hot my female co-star is. It's making the show as whole entertaining to watch that helps me perform as well as I do. Then after curtain call and when the cast goes out to meet the audience, I make a beeline for my family. I get loads of "You were so great" and Congratulations hun" before I ask them back, "Did you like so-and-so?" or "Wasn't that dance that I wasn't in awesome?" I get nods and "Uh-huhs" as a response before they delve into more compliments meant just for me. My favorite has been "I wish you hadn't died so early," which I've actually heard more than once. At this point I just don't need a shower of compliments for myself, I'm confident enough in my abilities that I no longer need constant reassurance. What I want is for them to enjoy a show I was a part of aside form the fact that I'm in it. The ultimate test of this was when I directed my college production of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, where I wasn't in it at all. I know my family enjoyed it, I just didn't hear it vocalized enough as if I had been in it.

4. Funny shit will happen

It is inevitable. Whether it is a result of you or others messing up or just a wacky happenstance, you will come away from every show with a hysterical memory that you will tell everybody you know twice. In Romeo & Juliet I was legitimately stabbed by Romeo, on 3 different occasions. On a show night for R&J a tech member was still onstage when the lights came up. He stood perfectly still in his jeans and t-shirt while men dressed in tights and petticoats walked around him speaking in Shakespearean dialect before making his escape to the wings. During a practice sword fight for I Hate Hamlet I accidentally stabbed my sword straight through the wall. On opening night of Deathtrap the lights came up on me typing but there was no paper in my typewriter, but I committed to typing on nothing throughout the entire scene like a pro. Yeah, people noticed. In Grease the car got caught on a curtain and nearly tore down the backdrop, leading to us jumping in with gems like "Nice driving, Kenickie!" and "Dude, you hit Marty's house!" Also in that show the girl playing Sandy, when asked how she was liking her new school, answered with a line meant to be used when asked about coleslaw and said, "It smells kinda funny." And during a rehearsal a guy's pants split in the back at the end of a huge dance number. Actually, there is an endless supply of hilarious instances from that show, especially that time a girl got dehydrated and was throwing up in the bathroom between all of her scenes. Hmm, actually that wasn't funny at all. She had to go to the hospital after.

5. You will kiss someone in a show

Whether you're the romantic lead type or not (I'm certainly not) there will come a play or musical where you will lock lips with someone. I stress the word "someone." Your makeout partner will not always be your ideal choice. You may get cast as the love interest to someone who you would much rather kick in the eye, or someone who has a crush on you who you'd rather didn't. In rare cases, you'll have to kiss someone of the same sex. I have. It was weird. But ever once in a while you'll get cast as a co-kisser to someone you've only dreamt of getting to first base with. I have. It was awesome.

6. You will work with people you hate

This is unavoidable, unfortunately. Even in the most perfect casts there will that one or two that you just hate being closer than a stick's length to. Even worse, this can affect your performance. Oh yes. For an example I was in a show once where my character was supposed to hate two other characters. One of the actors I got along with really well, but the other I legitimately despised. Funnily enough, my fake-hate towards the one was more believable while I wanted absolutely nothing to do with the other. You would think actual disdain would translate well through acting but it doesn't. You can't work well with someone you don't like, and it's no different when it comes to acting. I was once cast as a romantic lead opposite a girl I absolutely could not stand and...well, you can imagine our onstage chemistry translated very well. I don't have any real advice for this dilemma, as I've yet to overcome it myself. And so I wish us both luck with that.

And so I hope most of this was helpful, or at least entertaining. As I'm only just getting into serious acting I'm sure I will be learning more and more lessons along the way. So good luck to you all as well, my fellow actors! As I once said in a play, "You already learned everything that is important. You've tasted glory -- Now, reach skyward!"

Until sometime,

Tyler

P.S. If you ever wanted to hear Tywin Lannister narrate Fifty Shades of Grey, it is indeed on Youtube.

Question I Honestly Need an Answer to:

What song(s) should I audition for The Voice with?

Do I Remind You of Someone You Never Met?

This blog post is for any fellow writers out there.

Do you ever think about the characters you've created for your stories, I mean really think about them, their lives, their personalities, the things you put them through for the sake of your plot, and do you ever feel like crying?

Maybe I take this too seriously, but I'll begin with an example of a story I wrote from the age of 16 and finished when I was 19, and am currently going through and revising so that it no longer reads like the mind-vomit of a fantasy-loving high schooler. The story as it stands is about 300+ pages in length, and though there are really only 4 characters I consider "principle," there are a dozen or more supporting and minor characters whose actions and fates all assist in the story's ultimate outcome. And despite there being so many of them, and aside from the fact that so, so many of them die before the end, I find myself loving them all. And I want you to love them too.

                                  Like this, only with less laughing and more crossbows.

Of course I never intended to have so many characters in the story, in fact the original idea was for a short story 'cause I was 16 and didn't know how to write a long book. It was originally going to end with a terrible misunderstanding that resulted in an unnecessary death and the remaining main characters going their separate ways on terrible terms. I was more curious how the story would turn out if the plot took a different turn, and then 300 pages later I found out, and made some new "friends" along the way.

There was a firstish draft I wrote when I was 16, but then I got a computer virus because that was around the time I discovered Limewire. So we rebooted the computer and I lost 80 pages of my book. So I take a break and write a different story, and when I get sick of that one I decide to revisit the fantasy story I thought was long gone. Turns out it being deleted was the best thing for it 'cause I was a slightly better writer this time around. It's interesting talking to my friends who have read it and telling them what parts of the story weren't in the original draft, particularly certain characters. It's like when I lent my friend the director's cut of Kingdom of Heaven and after he watched it told him what parts weren't in the theatrical cut. He had a hard time believing that the movie made any sense without the cut scenes. And honestly, the movie really didn't make much sense without those scenes, but that's besides the point. You see when I started the story the first time I was writing as I went, making up a main character on the spot and writing the first chapter, not knowing where it was going. As I went along I found an endpoint I could work towards, then it got deleted. In round 2, I knew exactly where I was trying to get to, and so I was able to have more freedom on the path there. I added some characters, created new plot points, and discovered all of those themes and metaphors that teachers tell you the authors intended to have. Here's a hint, those are almost always accidents. The ones that aren't are shitty books.

                                                                     Ahem.

But where was I? What am I trying to say? Oh right! So obviously I don't write a 300 page book in one sitting. I write a paragraph or a chapter here and there, then leave to do other stuff or go to bed. It was never while I was writing that I truly discovered a character. When I'm typing I just spell a name and describe what they look like, write some dialogue to move the plot along, leave it at that. It's when I'm in bed when I really think about some of them. I mean as people. What their personality is, why they do the things they do, what happened to them prior to the story. And this isn't pretentious writerly bullshit they feed you in school, I really think about this stuff. But it's not because I want the story to work, or because I want to create diverse, interesting characters, the characters literally are people to me. I know what makes them tick, I know what their parents were like, and I don't even put most of that shit into the story. For the more likeable characters, it gets to the point where I wish I could just pull them off of the page and hang out with them.

                                            Believe me, I wish it were more like this.

It's bad, man. I don't want to always be thinking about people who don't exist but they're there all the time. Because of this it can sometimes be really difficult when the time comes for said characters to die. Oh boy, that can sometimes be a tough job. There was this one character, when I thought him up he was just supposed to be minor, just be around, but I needed the main character to have a best friend in that section of the story and so I promoted him. Eventually I realized I wanted to have an unrequited love story going on and so I again promoted this character to the hopeless romantic in addition to the main character's best friend. In the back of my mind, however, his fate was always to be killed near the end of the story. When I decided he should die, he was a nobody. A background character. Even after his subsequent character promotions his fate hadn't changed, he still had to die before the story's final chapters, because frankly  I hadn't thought up anything he could do during those parts. Yes, he partly died as a result of my laziness. I've already had that talk with myself. So anyways, when the time came to type out his death scene, I was hesitant. "Maybe he doesn't have to die. I have the power to stop this," I told myself. But I held strong and wrote out his demise, and then I felt horrible. I had to stop and walk around for a bit. I know that sounds like such a J.K. Rowling thing to do, but it felt really weird to off a character that I'd been thinking about for so long. Maybe it was also the fact that he wasn't the only one who died in that scene.

                                                 "Hmm...still not enough death!"

Yeah, I killed off two kinda important characters in one go. Yes, I felt bad. And I wouldn't if, again, I didn't think about them so damn much. But dammit, they're so cool! There this other character, a girl, who was just kind of in the background here and there throughout the story. She never really did anything of note until this massive attack thing happens and this is when whoever's reading the story will start to get to know her. Through her struggles and acts of bravery the reader will start to think, "This chick, she's kinda cool." Then I pull the rug out from under you and kill her like I'm all, "Sucks to suck!" And admittedly, that was my intent all along, to make you just start to like this girl who seemed like a nobody and then have her die so you feel sad. That didn't make it any easier to write, though, I liked her too. Especially now during the rewrites where I'm thinking up a whole new backstory for her. I might even have a bit of a fictional character crush on her, which makes me feel slightly guilty about having her leg get blown off.

It's more than just those two, though. All of the characters I've invented (or "discovered" if I wanna sound douchy) I feel like I know through and through, and if I don't now I will eventually. Sadly, I have all of their fates mapped out and most of them die horribly. It's not 'cause I hate them, I just decided to kill them before I really grew to like them, and then I was stuck with a death scene I'd be forced to write, all the time trying to apologize to someone who doesn't exist, and who therefore is not actually dying.

                                                                     Whoa.

But none of that matters, 'cause everybody is sad when their favorite character dies in a book or movie. I just happen to feel like that about EVERYBODY. It's like, imagine if a part of you died every time a random soldier died in the Lord of the Rings movies. Welcome to my world. What's worse is when I find a song that I specifically identify with a character or circumstance in my story. I listen to the song "My Junk" from Spring Awakening, a song about the young characters in that show growing up and thinking about each other in romantic (ish) ways, and when I listen to it now I think, "Oh god, it's just like in my story, and just like in my story most of them are dead by the end!" Obviously I've added it to my "writing" playlist. I also recently heard the Scala and Kolacny Brothers cover of Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters," and oh my god does that song make me think about the aftermath of the attack scene I mentioned before, especially hearing it from a choir. Hearing the right music puts a whole new spin on what I'm writing and who these characters are.

                                             Embedded so you too can feel my pain.

But anyways, I hope I'm not the only writer who goes through this, because if I am I'm either a freak or the best writer around, and I'm not particularly comfortable being either of those. Regardless, I hope that if I ever get this thing published you will all pick up a copy and forget all the spoilers I revealed throughout this. Please support a hungry writer, because my acting career isn't exactly keeping the power on. And if you also like getting attached to characters only to see them get horribly murdered, I highly recommend watching Game of Thrones.


With regrets,
Tyler


P.S. Who has two thumbs and just got cast as Roger in RENT? THIS GUY!!!

Dream Roles:

Completed:

Tybalt - Romeo & Juliet
Bernardo - West Side Story
and soon Roger in RENT

Still on the horizon are:

St. Jimmy - American Idiot
Moritz - Spring Awakening
Iago - Othello

One day the list shall be complete. One day...

The Little Insult That Could

Who here knows what an A-wing is? I surely can't be Facebook friends with anyone who hasn't seen Star Wars but I'll elaborate anyways. This is an A-wing:

That's right, it's that ship that nobody likes to use in Star Wars: Rogue Squadron 'cause its shields suck and its weapons are weak. Its one saving grace is that it's faster than the other ships, but who needs speed in a game where the goal is to blow space shit up? Essentially, if the A-wings were in a gym class, they'd get picked last. They're small and weak and can't do much damage. What chance do these things have against the Imperial armada, especially when they have the Super Star Destroyer, dubbed the Executor?

                            For a scale comparison, this ship's bigger than everything ever.

Oh wait, in the final movie Return of the Jedi, the Executor got taken down by one of those little fuckers. The rebels had destroyed the Executor's bridge deflector shield, pretty much painting a big fat red target on the ship's control bridge. Admiral Piett orders all power be directed to the star destroyer's firepower. Caught in the guns' crossfire is a random A-wing, who, in his final moments, steers his damaged fighter towards the Executor's shieldless control bridge and rams it head on. The bridge explodes and the Executor nosedives into the side of the Death Star and explodes.

                                                               "Too late!!!"

Holy shit, that was awesome! What a spectacular and brave final act by...that A-wing pilot. Huh? What? You don't remember his name? Everybody remembers Lando's name and he didn't do shit. Well, thanks to Wikipedia, I've learned that this random A-wing pilot's name was Arvel Crynyd, and his one line of screaming battlecry was portrayed by actor Hilton McRae, who you might recognize from nothing. Now going by traditional means, you would think they would've had the Executor taken out by a more significant hero, like Lando or Wedge. Or hell, why not an Ewok? But it was an unknown pilot keeping his shitty little A-wing afloat just long enough to help turn the tide of the battle. And you know what? I could give a shit about Luke or his sister-with-benefits. This man was my hero of the films.

It's something like that that just goes to show how little, seemingly insignificant things can make a huge difference. They can be so small, one has to really look back in order to see where the seed was first planted. Take the sitcom Friends, for example. Monica and Chandler hooking up in London and eventually marrying was awesome and seemed to come out of nowhere. Yeah, it really seemed like they were just talking in one scene and when it cut to the next, they were in bed together. How did that happen? Well, you may recall a minor event that led to Monica seeking out Joey for comfort sex but finding Chandler instead (it's a complex show). At Ross's wedding rehearsal dinner, Monica was feeling bummed out that her brother was getting married while she was still single, when suddenly a man IMDB credits as Older Guest approaches her and, after telling her how wonderful Ross is, then says, "My god, you must've been a teenager when you had him." Monica is Ross's younger sister, in case you're just that uncultured. And with that, Monica finally snaps and turns to Chandler, thus beginning their beautiful and, frankly, show-killing romance. Seriously, the show started to suck right around that point. Meanwhile, Older Guest can be credited as jumpstarting the eventual marriage of Monica and Chandler, and actor Heathcote Williams (good LORD, what a name) can forever claim to his friends that he was responsible for one of the series' biggest plotlines, to which his friends would presumably reply, "Shut the fuck up, Heathcote!"

Now, did the writers of Star Wars or Friends intend for their audience to look back at Arvel Crynyd and Older Guest and ponder the fate of their respective mediums without their minor acts of heroism? Probably not, but people like me (probably just me) have noticed and will never forget these important nobodies. Tiny acts like those can have huge effects later on, just like when that kid in high school quit the track team 'cause everyone was calling him slow. Ah, there's the moral he was getting at.

We say things to people we know everyday that mean nothing to us, but to their ears it could be lifechanging. Little insults or sarcastic remarks can slowly tear down a person's self-esteem. Not holding a door open for somebody one day could just be the final straw that was keeping that person's cynicism from leaking out, and now they hate humanity. Good job. Blowing somebody off when you were supposed to go to the movies could give that person the idea that nobody wants to be around them, if it happens enough times. Picking fun at any little thing about a person, such as their weight or their athleticism or the fact that they're wearing jorts, could lead to them giving up on socializing or quitting school or worse. Don't even get me started on the bullying crisis in America's schools and what results that produces.

                                                        But seriously, jorts = no.

During my middle school years, I was not a bully. I was too skinny. I was something worse, though. I was the bully's friend. You know, that skinny asshole who hides behind his giant bruiser buddy and flings insults at you. I was that, and I regret everything from that time. I stood by as my friends bullied the "losers" and just let it happen, all the while saying things to make it worse. I once told a kid that he should run away from home because it would be doing us and his family a favor. Christ, I said that? I don't know what that kid's doing now or where he is. He didn't actually run away from home, in case you were wondering, but I don't know what's become of him since we graduated. I'm very glad I stopped being that person once I got to high school, otherwise I could've evolved into full-on bully. And you know what they say, "No one's gonna cry on the very day you die, you're a bully." Ok, maybe only Shinedown says that.

But yeah, think about your actions and how, down the road, they could change a person's life. Maybe you tell someone in your creative writing class that you liked their story. Someday they might be a published author. Tell someone you like their jokes, they might turn into a renowned stand up comedian. Tell someone they have a good singing voice, then they may go on to embarrass themselves in an audition for The Voice. Everything goes a long ways. Just smile at somebody walking down the street and they might not kill themselves that day. And be mindful of the little things you say to bring people down, like when I rub it in my sister's face how I dominated our "A Year in the Life" Christmas card that year. Maybe she really gets jealous when it appears I did more than her that year. I'm not immune to the actions of others, either. Maybe somebody made fun of my music tastes years ago and now I'm embarrassed when people hear what I listen to. Maybe that same person also tried to tell me I couldn't act or sing even though he'd never come to any of my shows to see if I could or not. Maybe I don't draw anymore because he told me my drawings were shit. Think about it, then shut the fuck up, you moron. Who made you king of trends? Nobody likes you and you're gonna die angry, you fucking douchnozzle. Go drink detergent. Seriously. I won't care, and neither will anyone else.

                                               As you can see, I'm totally over it.

So in conclusion, remember, one small and random act can alter the course of everything. Whether it be an A-wing taking out a Star Destroyer or you calling a kid fat and him dropping out of school and joining the Navy, our current fates can always be traced back to one tiny seed planted in just the right spot, and my god did that come off sounding more sexual than I thought it would. But hey, I started out talking about Star Wars and ended with a pretty good life lesson. You see, that's writing.

Goodbybe,
Tyler

P.S. Still no word on my RENT audition. Is no news usually good news?

Best News of 2013 So Far:

New David Bowie album out in March!!!