Oh! The Agony! And the Pleasure

The telephone rings.
The phone lights up. An icon blinks insistently.
The elderly volunteer faulters. Her finger hovers over the phone, the earpiece clutched in her hand. She looks at me hestitantly.
"Go ahead." I say. "Press the button next to the line. The one with the phone icon."
She presses it and whispers, "Hello. Kennedy Center Honors."
Again she looks at me.
"Bill Urban? Yes. One moment please." She places one hand over the recceiver and in a stifled, stage whisper she asks, "Where is Bill Urban?"
"He's at his desk," I patiently answer, "Extension 8-9-0-1." I say slowly for the fifth time this morning. She presses the numbers slowly and then I remind her, "Hit the 'transfer' button again. There you go." She smiles, pleased with herself. The other volunteer looks confused when the phone call going to Bill seems to be a new call coming in. "Don't worry. Remember, it sounds as if it's ringing here?" 'Oh yeah.' She breaths a sigh of relief. 'Dodged that bullet again!' she thinks.
And then we wait for it to start all over again.

This isn't a description of all the volunteers I supervise but a select few who have distinguished themselves by being spectacularly inadequate at a modern convienence known as the telephone.
Some of my volunteers are intelligent, elegant women retired and contributing to the performing arts. Some are working women who take time out of their busy schedule to contribute their valuable time to this place and some are just incompetent. And then there are different levels. Some women take a little longer than others to catch on and some get nervous at first. For some it's like babysitting.

So the list of the talent that will be here includes Reese Witherspoon, Jessica Simpson, Alison Krauss, Aretha Franklin, Cee-Lo, India.Arie, Johnny Lang, Shania Twain, Vince Gill, Liam Neeson (accompanied by his lovely wife, Natasha Richardson) Tom Hanks (and his wife?) Josh Groban, Itzak Perlman and a bunch of Broadway people that sing and dance and I don't really care about. I need to find out where Rehearsal Room #1 is so that I can ask Jessica Simpson if she'd like a Tuna Salad or Chicken Salad sandwich. And to walk past casually when Josh Groban is there and melt into a puddle outside the door when I hear his voice. I don't like his songs all that much but he could just sing arias and I'd put out. (kidding. kidding. Or am I?)
I stole the rider to find out what everyone was demanding. Apparently we have some pretty reasonable guests because the only person who has anything other than the usual tea, coffee, water service is Shania Twain and all she asked for was assorted, easy to find vegetables and fruit and juices and some knifes and a cutting board. No bottles of Cristal, No organic foods, Not even a beer! You would think Jessica would at least ask for a massuese! But she does have her hairstylist Ken Payes. Maybe that's her big request.

Aja has been running around here like she's about to get the firing squad if she makes one wrong move. And I guess she is. She's working for Louis J. Horvitz. The director of the Oscars and Emmys. She's his PA working with his personal assistant, Sam. When Aja met Sam she told Aja 'Everything you've heard about Lou is probably true.' and then proceeded to give Aja a very specific list of what kind of ginger ale and orange cream soda to buy and what time exactly to be at his hotel door..


**NEWSFLASH!!** I just talked to REESE WHITHERSPOON!! She sounded sweet and said thank you. Ahhhh. I can't quit breathe and my heart is racing and I have a dopey smile. I'm never going to be able to be blase about meeting famous people. Not ever.

Working for Bob De Niro (maybe)

I just got an email from a Jesse Liotta (any relation to Ray?) who works for Tribeca Productions. That's Tribeca as in Robert De Niro's production company in New York. I'm going in for an interview on Dec. 6 for an internship position. Shit. This is big stuff. Me, a possible intern for a company like that? It's not just a dream either because I have the email in my inbox. And a cell phone number.
Just for some of you who don't spend half their time on IMDB some of Tribeca's films include: Meet the Parents, Wag the Dog, Marvin's Room, About a Boy, Stage Beauty, the new movie the Good Shepherd and Rent (unfortunately). They aren't just some fledgling company in Gaithersburg trying to start a company from nothing and getting bogged down under the likes of Shylock. This isn't a place where interns pretend to be publicists and casting directors. This place has actually made a movie. More than one! And ones that have made money. Some of which are even very good.
That feeling I used to get in the pit of my stomach at Leon, where I was afraid we would fail so dramatically and that no one would return our calls because they knew we were such fakers is gone. I don't know what it will be replaced with but I hope it's good.
As long as no one plays the RENT soundtrack in the halls I'll be happy. If they ask me about some of their movies I'll just pretend I didn't see that one. Becausee if they ask me if I liked it I won't be able to keep the grimace off my face. But then, again, if I tell them I didn't see it I might end up like Elaine in Seinfeld. They might insist I see it immediately and then I'll have an outburst and tell them I hated it and I won't get the job. Sigh. Delimma!

The Kennedy Center Honors

I'm working in the production office of the Kennedy Center Honors show. The room we are working from is a ballet rehearsal room. A long table cuts through the center of the room. Partitions separate the script area from the talent and production. On the other side sit the production and travel coordinators. I sit in the center. Right now it is sparse and quiet but soon it will grow loud and busy. I will be spinning through it madly. Or so I'm told. I am a PA or a glorified receptionist. I have two volunteer women working for me in shifts. I get to boss them around. They answer the phones and to me. They ask me if they can go to the bathroom and I look confused. They're twice my age, or more and I'm telling them what I need done. It's very odd. Having power is not something I'm ready for. Especially in this field. I hardly know what I'm doing myself. But there are perks. Like yesterday:
As I walked out of the bathroom I heard the sounds of horns and the clash of a cymbal. If I hadn't been in the basement of the Kennedy Center I would have thought the Apocolpyse was upon me. Instead I wondered if this was the music they pipe in to make us feel more artistic, seeing as we're working in a performing arts center. Where was it coming from?
I took a left and followed my ears. Down a corridor was an open door. What words could be more exciting? Down a corridor was an open door. Beautiful music was pouring out. Things are going to happen...
Music billowed out of the room and through a crack in the door I could see a man seated in front of a black music stand. he had a trumpet in his hands. I didn't venture any further, not wanting to disturb anyone, wanting to keep this secret for me.
That is what working at the Kennedy Center is for me. A secret to explore. It is the first building in Washington I loved. Coming across the Roosevelt Bridge and seeing it, white in the light and its golden pillars gleaming still gives me a thrill. To be working inn the recesses of it is like a childhood daydream come true. It is like peeking under the skirt of the queen. The building is so elegant on the outside and always busy underneath. This is part of the reason why I want to be involved in this business, to peek behind and be part of all the effort and to see what goes into the glamour of it, to see the rehearsals and hear the music erupt from people who are doing something as simple as practising.

Ch-Ch-Changes. (Is the worst Bowie song ever.)

The only thing that could make this day lazier is if I had smoked a big fat blunt.
The only two constructive things I have done all day are: 1) Put my new registration stickers on my car and 2) almost complete a crossword puzzle. And listing that as something constructive is really stretching it (incidently, who is the former netman, Nastase?).
And I did agree to work as the Assistant to the Production Coordinator for the Kennedy Awards. That was productive. Although all I really did was call them back. Aja recommended me and gave them my number.
See, that's why I'm moving up to New York with her. Because she finds me jobs. I don't have to actually do any work.
For the past week I've been trying to build up my confidence to cold-call some production companies in New York and find out about some internships with them. It seems like a fairly easy task but it's one I've been putting off for days. Why? I don't know. I certainly want to work with them and I certainly don't have any other options coming out of the woodwork calling me up. I guess I'm just nervous that they'll be mean and unhelpful. But then, I think, how mean can they be to me over the phone? What can they really do to me? Other than not give me an internship, not much! So I think that and then I don't do anything about it. Well, enough! I am going to do something about it! Tomorrow...Seriously.

Yesterday I got my hair cut in Dupont by my friend Jackie. It's much shorter and darker than it has been for a while. I like it. It has bangs and is shaggy and cute. It even has this cool, tomboy look about it and it's pretty impossible not to look cool in it. Before my appointment I walked around Dupont for a little while soaking up the rainy, cool but not cold fall in D.C. I wanted to keep this memory of it saved in my mind. When I was driving across the Roosevelt Bridge and looking at the Jefferson Memorial and the Kennedy Center on my left I couldn't belive I was actually, willingly giving this up. I love this city. One of my absolute favorite moments is coming around the curve on the bridge and seeing the Kennedy Center appear. I get such a rush from it. And then, farther along, the Watergate building and beyond that, Georgetown's cathedrals.
I'm excited about the changes that New York will bring and the fact that I will be living on my own and hopefully working on films and living my dream, but I can't believe I won't be seeing this on a regular basis. It makes my heart hurt a little to think that these familiar, strange streets aren't going to be the ones I call home anymore. I won't see the chess players in Dupont or the steam rising from the underground vents at the corner of Constitution and 15th in the lamplight, against that formal building. I won't see the familiar, Neoclassical buildings anymore or the rundown edges along the Capital building.
Every move affects me like this. When I moved from North Carolina I couldn't imagine that I would care at all about this grimy, fast paced city but now I've come to embrace the idiocy that makes up Washington wholeheartedly. It's an insane place with incongruities and strange juxtapositions. It's a place where change happens constantly and yet, not at all. Despire all its faults and streets that make no sense I love it and I hope one day when I return it will love me too.