«In a cold sweat»

For a guy who has lived all his life by the rules and routines of a gymnastics regime, there is no doubt that life here is a tad more divergent. Having nothing to do at one moment is just as shockingly unfamiliar as it is to run from a film shoot to my roommates’ baptism in the next.

At any point earlier in my life, the degree of variation stretched from sleeping, through eating and practice, to toilet visits, school and back to sleep. The circle of life has definitely taken a new shape.

NYFA may not be a normal college, but the universal college rule «we got the right to paaaarty!» seems to apply. As in any other school above teenage level, parties seem to serve as The Very Arena for social bonding. As we are in California after all, it couldn’t be less than a pool party – with free food and booze. I think it’s fair to say that not only the ones who took a swim got somewhat soaked that day.

If not earlier, then at least when the party advanced from one wet element to another – from the jacuzzi to the bar, that is. As in any other typical night out, nothing special happened; we caught a rather crazy improv. show at a theatre (with free bar), my leg almost got cut off by a car (people screaming horrified from the sidewalk), I lost unspeakable amounts of money I already didn’t have (by buying drinks for others), we danced (if one can call it that), before it all turned into the obligatory deep sharing convo’s at the bar.

Anyhow, my class is starting to become that close little group everybody knows from band camp or the like; everyone has humiliated themselves, stepped out of their comfort zone, let their guards down – in front of each other, way too early. It’s something awkward, yet beautiful about such a relation. We may not share the same soap or toothbrush, but I have the feeling that there will not be much else unshared after this year together. And so far, I can join the others in saying; «I love my class!»

Next morning, the man in writing woke up in a cold sweat, with no voice and a severe headache. Before you think «that’s what we call hangover», let me add that it lasted throughout the next week, and that I was probably the most sober attendee that night except from our driver (the one who nearly crushed my leg).

This week being full of film shoots for me, Mr. Cold couldn’t have been less welcome. I’m in huge debt to Advil, caffeine, sunglasses and costumes, but I can’t say they did the job when it comes to my worn out appearance, uninspired acting and bad mood. At least, this week I could lean on a cheery, professional crew; there was film in the cameras, directions were given, they even gave me food. Signed, sealed, delivered – I’m theirs!

No matter what, it seems romantic scenes is what I’m thrown into here. As much as I’d like to be an action hero and save the day, I guess it shines through where my experience lies; my life has, at times, undeniably been all too similar to a romantic comedy (/tragedy).

As we all know, nobody lives happily ever after – and so my scenes seem to always be at the doorstep to despair; this week by hating my wife’s food, or discovering that my date was something of a zombie. On the bright side, I got to wear a real 60’s jumpsuit, smoke American Spirit and chase a girl down Wisteria Lane. As a James Dean fan, I think that’s as close to a hero as I can get.

All in all, I’m rather embarrassed than proud of anything I did in those films –except from actually showing up. Actually, that’s all I can say when it comes to school as well; my appearance must have been closer to dead meat than anything else.

But at least this week gave me the opportunity to enjoy that I’ve learned something from my many years as a gymnast; give it your best, even when you’d rather give it the finger. Especially then, actually. If you play your best when at your worst, your new worst will soon be your old best.

Life 2.0 is Khrono’s new blog, and will be presented with new blogposts every week. Petter Egge is a former student from HiOA and journalist at Khrono. He has decided to do something quit different. This is his stories.

Feb. 18th 2014: 
Chronicle #4: «The Proposal and the Valentine’s»

Real life, as we will know it the next eight months (though dreamy it may still seem to me), is about to blossom. As the hassle of settling down slowly dies out, challenges of school is coming to life, growing over the heads of its students.

The whole chronicle #4 here.

Feb. 11th 2014: 
Chronicle #3: «Life’s a like a box of chocolate»

As we still can’t seem to get friendly with our apartment (at least our rent), it took my roommate and me no more than three days to decide to move out again. Already stretching our comfort zone with one bedroom, we are now downgrading to NO bedroom.

The whole chronicle #3 here.

Feb. 8th 2014: 
Chronicle #2: Move-in Day and monologues

When gas, water, power and insurance companies got back in to business on Monday morning, Murphy’s law did the same; what could go wrong – well, you know. For the landlord to let us move in, they needed confirmation letters faxed from all of the above – which should be no problem, since we asked them all to do so when opening our new accounts. After half a day of waiting by an empty fax machine, we dared to call them back with a friendly reminder – only to discover that they’d forgotten all about us. When they eventually faxed it, only one name was on the paper – and we’d really prefer that both of us could move in. 

The whole chronicle #2 here.

Feb. 5th 2014: 
Chronicle #1: «I need a dollar, dollar is what I need»

Ok, just to make it clear right away: I am NOT a blogger. Since the dawn of the blogosphere, my prejudices have kept me far away from its kind. But as we all know, the first unwritten rule of a struggling actor in Hollywood is that «Everyone must accept some kind of prostitution in order to survive up until the big breakthrough.» So, I could have fulfilled the stereotype of waiting tables between my auditions, or I could do a «Sylvester Stallone» – but instead I am now spreading trivialities about my still-to-be famous self. Oh, the irony.

The whole chronicle #1 here.