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46 THINGS YOU MIGHT NOT KNOW ABOUT ME ON MY 46TH BIRTHDAY

1. I have apocalyptic dreams at least once a week, and I secretly suspect I’m being prepared for The End.

2. I stopped buying DVDs about 3 years ago. (Those that know my huge horror DVD collection will find this interesting…)

3. Although I hate fish, I will occasionally buy a Filet-O-Fish at McDonalds. The fish is so bleached of taste, it’s basically a vehicle for tartar sauce.

4. I’ve gone thru periods where I’ve eaten at McDonald’s once a day, every day, for months at a time.

5. I eat fast food about once a month now, if that.

6. I don’t see every horror movie released.

7. I’m writing a musical that I’m convinced will play on Broadway (and no, it’s not “Angels!” for those that know about that show…)

8. After being thrown from the raft into Class 4 rapids on a whitewater rafting trip for my 40th birthday, I still have panic attacks when I see rafting, rivers or ocean scenes in movies.

9. I’m ready to leave Los Angeles.

10. I have Restless Leg Syndrome.

11. When AOL chat rooms were super big in the late 90s, I spent some time in the Psychic Room, and had a psychic tell me I’d find fame and fortune after I had a play of mine premiere at Actors Theater of Louisville.

12. I think that “This American Life” story about the ill-fated production of PETER PAN is complete bullshit, and I can tell you why (but that’s another blog post.)

13. I’m a fan of Rebecca Black’s moxie.

14. I have a weird savant talent for knowing the resumes of obscure actors.

15. No cavities.

16. The person who was the most disrespectful of me in a professional setting was a high school drama teacher.

17. The play I’m most proud of as a playwright was written for a high school drama teacher who was incredibly disrespectful of me.

18. I have a decaffeinated, iced coffee beverage almost every day.

19. I’ve overcome my fear of writing song lyrics.

20. I use the same drinking glass/cup at home for a week or more – I continually refill it, leave it on the counter full of liquid, day and night. Typically this is an iced coffee beverage plastic cup, which I hate to use once and throw away, so I’ll rinse it out and use it for water and Crystal Light. Normally I’m forced to move on to the next cup because my husband will throw out the previous cup when I’m asleep.

21. I met the newest NBC EVP of drama development, Pearlena Igbokwe, years ago when I produced a pilot for Showtime. She handled my enthusiasm for her unique name, and impression of Howard Cosell saying her name, with grace.

22. The one and only time I’ve gone up on a line during a performance was in 8th grade, playing sports caster “Howie Cassette” in SATURDAY AFTERNOON LIVE!

23. If I’m careful, I can pull off my entire baby toe toenail semi-painlessly…and I do frequently.

24. I had nightmares about the Joker after reading “Secret Origins of Super Heroes” when I was in 2nd grade. In the one I remember, the Joker caught me and was beating me to death. He told me, “The next time I hit you, you’ll be able to see all the broken bones in your body.” Then he hit me again, and my field of vision was filled with an x-ray view of my skeleton with all the bones broken.

25. I think I may be ready to work on low budget movies again. Maybe.

26. My first, and only, temp job when I arrived in LA 16 years ago was in CBS Business Affairs. I spent my lunch hours Xeroxing copies of original TWILIGHT ZONE and I LOVE LUCY scripts, which I snuck home under my shirt.

27. It was during this job I found myself in an elevator with David Cronenberg and Fran Drescher (at the same time.)

28. I’m a big fan of Arial Bold, and use it for the title page on all my scripts.

29. I would love to work at the Post Office.

30. Therapy, yoga, the gym, and my friend Georgia Jean’s channeling skills have helped me let go of tons of anger issues in my life, which has been a blessing. However, sometimes I’ll be having a good day, and as a reward I’ll give myself ten minutes to be angry about something/someone. It’s like dessert!

31. Did I mention Georgia Jean’s skills? Check out Circle Evolution and you’ll see what I’ve thrown myself into.

32. I’m going paperless, slowly but surely scanning everything in my files. (With triple back up.)

33. Thanks to “Dynamite” magazine, I wrote fan letters to Don Rickles (I think this was during his CPO SHARKEY days), and a joint letter to Lee Majors and Farrah Fawcett. Don sent back an autographed picture. I hadn’t sent the letter to Lee and Farrah when their divorce was announced in the press. I was so angry at them, I scribbled out their names each time they appeared in the letter, which I kept for months afterward.

34. I prefer soft snacks (baked goods) over hard snacks (chips).

35. I think I’d be really good at hosting a talk show.

36. I always carry a power strip in my computer bag.

37. I hate wasting food at home, so even if I’ve created something awful for dinner, I won’t throw it out. I’ll douse it in some sauce – ketchup, ranch dressing, etc. – and eat it the next day.

38. As I’ve grown older, I find it harder and harder to watch genuine discomfort on TV or video clips. I can listen, but I can’t watch, so I’ll find myself covering my eyes during, say, JUDGE JUDY, or turning away during Ann Curry’s last appearance on TODAY.

39. I was a producer on Ryan Seacrest’s DATING GAME appearance in 98? 99? Over a decade later I was hired as one of his writers for the Emmy Awards Red Carpet, and he just did NOT get me.

40. Seeing the Broadway tour of HAIR was the most amazing theatrical experience I’ve ever had. Second row on the aisle. Dancing on stage at the end. I’d wanted to see this show since I was ten years old, listening to my parents’ original cast recording, and the experience did not disappoint for one second.

41. I’ve accidentally dropped my wedding ring down the garbage disposal twice. Reaching in to retrieve it was…nerve wracking.

42. I’ve had the wax for candle-crafting sitting in my closet for about 5 years.

43. My dream home has a huge privacy hedge around the front yard.

44. I think we give Samuel Jackson too much credit as an actor. He’s a cool guy, he “gets us.” He says all the right things interviews. But that doesn’t make him a good actor. He’s the worst thing in THE AVENGERS (and the other Marvel movies), and he’s only okay in SNAKES ON A PLANE, among other films.

45. Ditto Kevin Smith as a writer/director. SUPER ditto Kevin Smith.

46. There are some days I still can’t believe I live in Los Angeles.

AIDS/Lifecycle 2012

In 1997 my roommate and best fried, Joey Meyer, died suddenly from AIDS-related complications.

You would think that with that horrible loss in my history I would be first in line to sign up for the AIDS/Lifecycle. But I have to be brutally honest – when my friend died, I felt like I gave at the office. Joey was gone, I couldn’t help him any more, so that was that. These feelings lasted for over a decade. It was never something I said out loud, or dwelled on too deeply, because I knew, deep down, that that excuse was bullshit. But it was my excuse and I stuck to it.

Then my husband signed up for AIDS/Lifecycle 2012. I thought about signing up for half a second, did one training ride (horrible), and retreated to my previous position on the matter. But as the months passed, and Matt rode deeper and deeper into training and the event itself, my interest in participating grew. I secretly called up my friend, ALC Associate Director James Ray, and had him sign me up as a roadie.

Now my reason for signing up to roadie was to surprise my husband, support him and get my Husband of the Year Award. I was excited to be there, looking forward to the work, happy to be part of the process, but still not completely invested in the emotional part of the ride. James helped me cover my tracks until Day Zero in San Francisco. Surprise!

At Day Zero Orientation, on a table were banners with words like “Courage” “Strength”, etc., embroidered along the sides, and dozens of magic markers. People had been signing the banners, and I wrote, “I’m am roadie-ing for Joey Meyer, who died in 1997. I still miss him.” The connection between the ride and me started to change…

During the Day One Opening Ceremonies, in the auditorium where all 3,000 participants were gathered, the banners were carried into the auditorium by the Pos Pedalers alongside the Riderless Bike. I was close enough to actually see my signature on the banner, and a feeling I can’t describe washed over me. Sadness? Mixed with what, exactly? I wasn’t sure, but crying in front of a crowd of strangers just wasn’t my bag. But inside, more cracks in the armor….

Day One was our easy day (“Enjoy it! Don’t get used to it!” my team captains, Ron and Colleen, advised/warned us.), so I wandered around camp, watched my husband ride in, eat dinner and hit the sack.

Day Two began at 12:01 A.M. for me. My tentmate had sleep apnea, which he neglected to warn me about, and didn’t bring his C-PAP because it was “too heavy.” So I lay in our tent, awake, from 10 P.M. Day One until I finally got up at 4 A.M. Day Two. I hadn’t slept from Day Zero to Day One, either, as I had to be at a shuttle bus to load luggage at 3:15 A.M. Math isn’t my strong suit, but at some point on Day Two I’d been up for 48 hours.

And then the rain began.

Now, not all roadie teams have as hard a job as Pack Up. In fact, Pack Up might have the hardest job of all the teams. Our day begins at 4:30 A.M. pulling garbage from the dining tent. After breakfast (around 7 AM) we start loading the hundreds of chairs and tables into trucks; then gathering hundreds of full, heavy trash bags from all over camp and tossing them into the dumpsters; then scouring the entire camp picking up random garbage (yes, even cigarette butts), ALC garbage cans, and snagging everything left behind by all the other departments; and finally getting the park ranger to sign off on the clean up. We leave camp anywhere between 11 A.M. (early) and 2 P.M. (way late). We drive to the next camp, help unload the tables and chairs; set out the garbage cans and hand sanitizers at all the Porta-Potties and all over camp; then get our bags and set up our tents. We have a brief break, then garbage duty for dinner starts at 5 PM and lasts (in shifts) until 9 P.M. Then bed. I was exhausted all day, every day. There were days on the ride I genuinely didn’t know how I’d be able to keep working. And yet I did.

Rain killed the ride for most of the riders on Day Two, but the roadies still had to work. I got to know my team as we ran around in the rain – straight and gay, men and women, all ages (Our oldest in their 60’s, our youngest early 20’s), white collar upper management types to blue collar labor types, some had kids (with one riding), some were married (their spouse riding). Some had been affected by AIDS directly, either personally or via a close friend or family member; some just wanted to contribute what they could toward a cure. A genuine cross section of society in our team of 24, and everyone had a reason to be invested in the cause. When we finally left the Day One camp on Day Two, I realized that no one was complaining about the work. Yes, we complained about the rain and the cold and the exhaustion, but no one complained about picking up garbage. My first impressions of many of our team were revealed to be wildly inaccurate.

When I was finally able to catch my breath in my tent later that day (convinced it would blow away in the gale force winds that followed the rain and us to the Day Two camp), I was so exhausted, I started crying. But I wasn’t sad. Far from it. I realized I was having an incredible time. We moved a city that day, in the rain, so thousands of riders could participate in the largest AIDS fundraising event in the country. And when one of my rider friends told me how disappointed he was that he didn’t get to ride the entire route because of the rain, I listened, sympathized and tried to make him feel better about it. As Lorri Jean, CEO of the L.A. Gay and Lesbian center would say during the evening announcements every night, “You (I) made a difference today.”

Although I wish Joey were still alive, I realize that had he not died, I may not have been as receptive to the emotional aspect of the ride as I ultimately was. Maybe I would have signed up for the ride, but without that personal connection maybe I would have felt more tired, less invested, over it after that first day of rain.

On Day Zero (Orientation) and Day One, every time I met someone new, either with my husband or just randomly while I was working, I’d tell them, “I’m a roadie!” It was just something that came out of my mouth, a verbal nametag. Again, excited to be there, but more in the context of someone waiting in line for a ride at Disneyland.

But on Day Two, as I lay in my tent, exhausted, soaked from the rain, thinking about what we’d done that day, and Joey, the answer to the question “What are you doing on the ride?” changed from “I’m a roadie,” to “I am a roadie.” It’s not my job. It’s who I am.

My heart broke open at that moment, and was filled every day after with all the ride had to offer. I realized I could turn to any one next to me anywhere – in line for meals, gear and tent pick up, the shower truck – and ask “Why are you on the ride?” And they would just start talking. Everyone on the ride had a reason to be there, and they all wanted to talk about it. Crying in front of strangers was now on the menu, and I did it almost three times a day.

This is not hyperbole – I worked harder on ALC 2012 than I’ve ever worked in my life. And I had an amazing time.

I made a difference every day for seven days. I am a roadie. And I belong here.

And I’m going back next year.

The Gifts You Give Away

I received an email from a drama teacher who had directed a production of my play, HORROR HIGH. It inspired me to write a blog post for the Playscripts website, which I reprint here. UPDATE – A further response from Michelle at the bottom …

“During the performance last night, one of the audience members was laughing so loud, I thought he had been drinking (haha). He approached me after the play was over. It was a community member who lost his wife to cancer last fall, and his son, Casey, is an extra in the play. He said that since his wife had passed, he had been unable to laugh – until he saw your play. For a couple hours, he was able to forget everything and just laugh. He wanted to know who wrote it. He plans on coming again Monday.

Well, his son is an understudy. When I told the cast what Casey’s dad said, the student for whom his is understudying decided to let Casey play Victor on Monday. It’s going to be a surprise for Casey’s dad. I’ll let you know how it goes!

Michelle Miles
FHS Drama Coach”

My response:

Dear Michelle and the cast and crew,

I can’t tell you how flattered I am to receive this email. Reading it reminded me of an exchange I had years ago with a really great improv teacher. I was bemoaning the fact that, because of the war, we had been adding more and more serious scenes into our graduation show. He asked me, “Why do you think people come to the theater?”

“To be entertained.”

“No, they come to be affected.”

I think most of us, when we realized we were destined to work in theater in some capacity, proceeded because we wanted to be part of entertaining audiences, and then, years later, we learned our relationship with the audience is a little more complicated than that.

Maybe the audience doesn’t think of it in those terms, but in truth they are there to be affected, manipulated, moved by the experience. Laughter is certainly part of that, but so are tears, anger, and heated conversations in the parking lot after the show dissecting the meaning of what they’ve just seen. We want to affect the audience, the audience wants to be affected. A perfect, symbiotic relationship.

But sometimes, sitting in that darkened theater, there is an audience member who doesn’t want to be affected. Sometimes that person needs to be affected.

A very smart actor with whom I often work once said, “The most important gifts you receive are the ones you give away.” Casey’s father has given you the most important gift someone in the theater can receive; He made what you do matter. And in turn, you gave him the gift of affecting him in the way he needed most at that moment. Many speeches are given by many theater practitioners about the importance, honor, and responsibility of the theatrical arts. I can’t think of a better example than this one. You never know when someone like Casey’s father will be out there, but you should always assume they are, and approach the stage as if tonight’s show can be a transformative experience.

(And just to be clear, I’m speaking of everyone involved in the show. Without the director, playwright, costumes, props, sets, lights, stage manager, running crew, or the person handing out tickets and programs, Casey’s father wouldn’t have had that experience.)

Speaking of gifts, I must applaud the actor who stepped aside so Casey could take his role for the evening. When you hear actors speak of other actors as “gifted” and “generous,” generally that refers to their onstage habits. Rest assured, your generosity and gifts were definitely on stage that night, even if you weren’t.

So, again, thank you for the email; thank you for choosing my show; and thank you for reminding me of what’s important about what we do.

Sincerely,
Sean Abley

UPDATE: Quite a few people wanted to know how Casey did in his performance. Michelle sent me this email to let everyone know.

“Hi Sean!

Sorry it took me so long to reply. Wrapping up the school year has been insane! However, Casey’s performance was amazing – he brought something different to the character than Taylor, but it was just as good. I am going to pass your email along to the cast and crew of our little production. It will mean a lot to them. Thank you so much for taking the time to reply. It has meant a lot to us and brought a personal aspect to performing your play. I always believed that both laughter and tears are cathartic experiences, but laughter has a healing quality that humans need so badly in this day and age.

Have a Great Day!
Michelle“

Whitney

As Matt and I played Whitney music in the car on the way to dinner last night (joining what I assume were hundreds of thousands of people playing her music at the same time), I had a thought. I believe that when we die, we still exist in some form after we leave our physical bodies behind. And to that end, I have to believe Whitney heard her music being played all over the Earth last night as she moved on to the next step. The word “comfort” comes to mind when I think of how she felt hearing the joy she gave millions radiated back to her…

For a long time I was all “I hate Whitney…but I love ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody.'” “I hate Whitney…but I love her version of ‘I’m Every Woman…'” And after hating her but loving all the singles, I realized – I love Whitney Houston! So sad. I can’t help but think of her daughter, who has gone thru so much over the years. I know this is a weird choice for a video to post, but this song is a fucking jam, and this is how I’ll remember her 🙂