My friend Dalto showed me a great app called Freestyle last night at the Wooorthington holiday party. It’s perfect for all you rhymers out there. I suggest you download the app with the quickness. It’s free now, but it won’t be free for long.
So let me break it down for you. Freestyle keeps a catalog of all your rhymes. You can create new ones, delete dumb ones, tweak the ones with promise, you know, the stuff you’d expect. But wait! There’s more! Ever get hung up of the edge of a really great line? Or maybe you’re looking to take your rhyme in a different direction? You can double tap a word and look up some rhymes. Need more? There’s a built-in rhyming dictionary with some really creative solutions. But the best part? The beats. That’s right. Freestyle comes with 13 high quality, fully produced beats that you can flow over while recording your entire session.
Freestyle is the newest addition to my iPhone and it’s on the fast track to becoming one of my all-time favorites.
I was sitting on the couch the other day watching The Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien when my phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognize, so I didn’t pick up. I silenced the ring and went back to laughing at Conan. “You should get that, it’s a New York number,” said Moy, “It might be important. It might be someone calling to offer you a job.” Then they’ll leave a message, right? They didn’t leave a message and I didn’t call them back.
I’m weird when it comes to the phone, I know this, but I need you to know this too, which is why I’m putting this out there in the universe so you can respect and understand me for who I am when it comes to the phone.
- I don’t like talking on the phone. I used to think I had some strange phobia, but I’ve come to accept the fact that I just hate to do it. This aversion stems from my childhood when my mother would force me to talk on the phone without telling me who I was talking to. Seems silly, but one too many awkward phone conversations with nothing to say to relatives I didn’t remember has turned me off to talking on the phone with people in general.
- If a number but not a name appears on my screen, I won’t pick up. I promise. If you meant to call me but you neglected to leave a message, I won’t call you back. I promise.
- I’ll listen to your message if you leave one, but I probably won’t call you back. I honestly don’t know why. Yes, I know how pathetic that is, but it’s true.
- If you call me AND the planets align AND karma’s on your side AND a name appears on my screen AND I pick up, I will subconsciously find a reason to get off the phone as quickly as possible. Please believe me it has nothing to do with you. It all stems back to those terrible childhood phone calls.
- I won’t call you. I’m embarrassed to say that, but it’s true. It’s everything I can do to stay in touch with my family, and I drop that ball week after week after week.
So what do you do? How can we stay in touch with each other? Simple. Text me. I don’t miss texts the way I miss voicemail. My phone programmed to chime every five minutes when I receive a text. It also displays the text on the screen when I wake it up and automatically directs me to the text when I unlock it. My phone is always nearby and I have no qualms whatsoever with texting. I can also say with full confidence that, unless my phone or the network botches up, I will text you back.
I know this isn’t perfect but this is how I operate. I am trying to be better about remembering to check voicemail and making regular phone calls, but until I get there, text me. Or Facebook me. Or hit me up on Twitter. Or send me a link to your blog.
It’s official. I signed my TheatreWorks contract and I’m going on tour January 16! I’m playing the narrator, Gander, Uncle, and a smattering of other fun cameo characters in Charlotte’s Web. I’ve never done children’s theatre, but everyone tells me this is one of TheatreWorks most popular shows and that all the kids love it.
I’m moving out of my apartment so I don’t have to worry about dealing with a sub-leaser while I’m gone. There is a small chance that Ami, Dane, and Eric will move into the place, but that’s really up to the landlord, and he hasn’t mentioned anything to me or Moy about it. In the event that he doesn’t rent to them, I’ll have to move my stuff into storage. So today I’m going to clean up my room so that I have a better idea of what I should keep and what I should store. The plan is to cut my already meager collection of things in half. And then I guess I’ll pack half of what’s left for the tour and store the other somewhere in the city? I really have no idea how to pack for six months. Layers, basics, things you can mix and match, sure, but how often will I have access to a washing machine? Should I pack gym clothes? I really don’t know. If you’re reading this and you’re experienced in living out of a suitcase for extended periods of time, please offer up some advice. I need it.
I also have to find an affordable storage space. I’ll probably go back to American Self Storage in LIC. They’re in the middle of nowhere which makes it a pain to move in and out of there, but they hooked me up the last time I had to leave some things there, maybe they’ll cut me another deal.
I was gone for a minute, but I’m back again. I was busy doing a lot of nothing, but in between a lot of the nothing I was actually quite productive. I signed my TheatreWorks contact (details are on the way), I turned my Mac into a GameBoy (you know details are on the way!), and I started coding my friend Nancy’s website, The Art of Babysitting. That’s a screenshot of what you can expect. I’m still making tweaks here and there, and the site has absolutely no meaningful content yet, but all of that is just around the corner. Check it out! It’s slow, I know; it’s repetitive, I know; it’s rough, I know! But it’s a work in progress. Cut me some slack. I haven’t given it the works yet. I have optimized it yet. But I still like it.
When I woke up this morning, I had no idea that I’d be auditioning for Nickelodeon executives, and I have two key people to thank: my friend Anna for passing the audition information on to me, and my agent Ron for getting me on the inside and setting up the appointment.
It all started yesterday. I got to Chelsea Studios early so I could have a moment to relax before I went in for the Nickelodeon Presents: Storytime Live! audition. I sang Those Magic Changes from GREASE! and Endless Night from The Lion King. They liked my voice so they gave me some sides to look over. They called me back in after a few minutes of pacing and mumbling awkwardly to myself in the hall. I read the sides, took the director’s notes (always take the motes!), re-read the sides and then they invited me to stay for the dance call. I foolishly left all my dance gear (I say it like I actually have dance gear) at home and I didn’t have enough time to run back and get it, so I danced in my audition clothes. You ever hear of that old theatre adage “fake it til you make it”? It works. I am not a dancer. But dammit I looked good last night. My bare feet weren’t always doing the right thing and my technique was definitely lacking, but my face proved otherwise and the lines and stage pictures I hit put me over the edge. They emailed me later that night and asked me to come in the following day.
When I went in today I did the exact same audition. Twice. They gave me one new side to look at (My name is Moose A. Moose. But you can just call me Moose.) and after I read it they sent me home. I’m trying to email my agent the whole way home, but sometimes my phone acts up when I’m at Chelsea Studios, and then I was underground on the train, so whatever. I get home, to take my stuff off, pour a bowl of cereal (my first meal of the day), and I get a voicemail from Ron. They wanted me back at Chelsea Studios as soon as possible to read for another part so I raced back and read. While waiting in the hall the director comes out and tells us that we’re it. He’s seen so many people and we made it all the way. He’s casting from those of us chillin out in the hall and that we’ve made his job “very, very difficult.” Then he tells us that over the next few minutes or so the room is going to fill up with a bunch of people from Nickelodeon. He assures us that the audition is over, that we are the cream of the crop, and that the Nickelodeons don’t have any say over who does and who doesn’t get cast, but that they just need to see us for themselves. So we all go back in, one by one, and audition. I mean, seriously? I don’t care what he says. We were singing and reading sides in front of Nickelodeon execs and they were talking about us behind closed doors. It was an audition.
I wish I’d worn a tie.