The Last Post: Love

After today, I'm going to be moving this blog over to RubberbandSlingshot.

And while there's some exhilaration in that step, a sense of the pieces coming together, there's also loss. This is, after all, the place where I first publicly identified myself as an actor and honestly spoke of following the dream. For five years, I've documented the good (SXSW, True Grit, Cell) and the bad (broken ankle, missed opportunities).

The move isn't an abandonment of the art.
It's a realization that the art doesn't live in a vacuum.

The work I do as a writer informs it. The work I do as an author draws from the same well. It's just taken me a bit longer than some to figure out that I can't neatly compartmentalize dreams and work. Done well, they coexist.

Here's an example.

I read an article in the NYTimes this morning that spoke about love--specifically the ability to will it into being:

"I’ve begun to think love is a more pliable thing than we make it out to be. Arthur Aron’s study taught me that it’s possible — simple, even — to generate trust and intimacy, the feelings love needs to thrive." 

I know this is true.

When you're an actor in a committed relationship, love scenes can feel complicated. For my first, I was conflicted. If I feel love in the moment, am I being disloyal to my relationship?

An acting friend gave me really good advice. He told me in the moment, I should feel it. That all the time I've committed to the craft, all the time away from my partner, all the work is wasted if I half-ass my way through the scene. The ability to do this, to 'feel it' in the moment requires something very similar to Aron's study. Vulnerability, trust, intimacy, space.

As I think this over, I think of the acting partners who have given me this gift. I think of the relationships grown from this space. I think of the love that the craft has brought into my life, and I am so very grateful.

Last, I think that tonight I'm going to pull out Aron's 36 questions and start the exploration at home--spend some time learning about the man I've loved for more than half my life.

Because when it's time to integrate your life's dreams, there's really no time like now.
xoxo


To keep up with Aimee--the actor, the author and the writer--visit RubberbandSlingshot.

Superheroes!

Q (here as the Hulk) is an amazing instructor at the YMCA. He wanted us to dress up like our favorite superheroes for the day, so--this.

Texas Book Festival Highlights

Besides a giant shopping cart beneath a beautiful Texas sky? There were a ton of highlights--starting out with seeing so many friends with such inspiring successes among this tight, supportive community of Texas writers. Like the added benefit of welcoming fellow word-lovers from all over the US and world, for one. And the fact that we can still throw down summer days in late October. BOOM!

I began the day with the most gorgeous sitar concert at the Grandfather Gandhi panel with Arun Gandhi and Bethany Hegedus. I closed my eyes to listen to the music and so unexpectedly found myself crying. It was beautiful.

From there, I hit the #WeNeedDiverseBookPanel because WE DO and had the honor of hearing from an entire panel of writers, including Jacqueline Woodson. I'm late to the party, but I just started reading her picture books, and I love her voice. It was great to hear it in person. (Watch out for her Brown Girl Dreaming--a National Book Award finalist.)

I caught a magic panel with dear friend Nikki Loftin--author of The Sinister Sweetness of Splendid Academy and Nightingale's Nest, got acquainted with Annie Brown and was exposed to the charming, fresh voice of Natalie Lloyd.

After getting a few books signed by Andrea Beaty, (if you haven't read Happy Birthday to Madame Chapeau or Rosie Revere, Engineer--start reading...), I visited with Nikki and the self-deprecating Brian Floca--Caldecott Winner for Locomotive--before forcing my sweaty self through the tents one more time before heading home.

I ended up buying three books, acquiring five more (Thank you Penguin!) and having just the best time. It's definitely one of those "I am so lucky to live in Austin" kind of days. And they're doing it all again tomorrow!

Author Aimee

I'm a woman with several identities, several names, several careers. In the beginning, it was a nice way to divide 'professional' work from 'personal passion projects'. In other words, the neighbors, the office, the clients--they know one Aimee. The actors, the directors, the producers and now, the publishing houses, the potential agents, the writers--they know another one.

My first writing coup was for Goldie Blox--it's an amazing toy/book/app movement born to get girls interested in engineering. Goldie Blox and the Dunk Tank is my contribution to the canon (that is not a request for purchase--no royalties are received).

Now there's more writing underway, and an entirely new creative community getting to know Actor Aimee as Author Aimee. Artist Aimee sounds too pretentious, but I'm not sure what to do about the name of this blog...

Geico, The Martin Agency Ripped Off an Austin Filmmaker. Hire a New Agency.

 

It started with a call from my dad. "Have you seen the new Geico spot?" "No." "They totally ripped off your friend's idea." "Really?" "Yeah, that 'Poor Decision Horror Movie Spoof'?" "Yeah? You mean "Hell, No"? "That one."

So I watched it, and my dad is right. The thought that people in horror movies make poor decisions is not a new one--the entire Scream franchise was built on it. But when filmmaker Joe Nicolosi skewered it--he took the concept from conversation to completion.

And Geico's Martin Agency just flat out stole it in this installment of their new "It's What You Do" campaign.

Get back up and ride

So I got knocked off my pony today. Over Labor Day weekend, I had a good audition. A really good audition. An "I nailed it!" audition. An audition that led me to come home and say, "Unless they want a blonde, I've got this."

In the future, perhaps, I should not trust that feeling.
 I was just so sure! And, apparently, just so wrong. I did not get the part. And I really wanted the part. So that's a bummer.

Rejection is the other part of the actor's life--the part we don't talk about a lot. It's kind of embarrassing. It shouldn't be. I've had acting coaches tell me you may face 10, 50, 100 rejections before you get a part, and you just have to climb back on and ride.

That's one of the things I admire most about actors. You pour your heart out. You hear--yeah, but. Yeah, but. Yeah, but. Yeah, but. And you climb back on, grab the mane in both hands, and ride into a technicolor sunset only you can see. You wake up, see a new day dawning and ride again. And you may ride for days and days and days before you see anyone. And it may be months before you find someone to ride along beside you. And you may never, ever find the lost city, the fountain of youth, the gold mine. But somewhere along the way, you realize it's the looking that's the bounty. It's the secret bits of the world you get to see every single time you ride, you search, you ride again.

Stairway to Hell

Stairway to Heaven came on my Pandora feed today and holy crap. This was invariably the last song at our church camp dances, which is story-worthy right there. Unfortunately, I hear it and am instantly filled with the withering shame of standing in the dark, no one having asked me to dance, watching the couples, knowing this fucking song would be seven minutes long, which is an eternity in embarrassed junior high time.

It's ok. I made up for it in high school, when I was really, really happy to have seven minutes to surreptitiously make-out, but holy shit. What a vivid memory--shame upon shame as I find myself on the dance floor with a pitying counselor.

Fuck you very much, Pandora.