by Kalle Gustafsson

I puckered my lips in frustration as I pulled away from CBS’ side entrance. “I was just here yesterday, don’t they remember” I mumbled aloud while I made the, apparently painstaking, drive all the way down the block to the main gate. “Hi, Brenda King. I have a drive on?”

“Oh, yeah,” the young guard answered as he threw a parking pass into my beaten-up Honda.

I continued down into the parking structure with a huffy, “This is gonna be such a long walk! What a day to wear heels.” I slammed the car door, fixed my wrinkled shirt, and loudly clomped through the echoed structure.

When I walked into the sunlit streets, past star trailers and lunch buffets, I couldn’t help but notice the gawking similarity between crew members and construction workers. I squinted my eyes into the best Philly snarl I could muster; I was not in the mood. I bitterly wondered if they would dare undress a leading lady like that.

I climbed the stairs of my boss’ trailer to find it empty. This was only my third time at CBS, but I knew how to get to his set. I waited for the symbolic “do not enter; we are shooting” red light to turn off before pushing open the door. The director’s assistant remembered me and instructed me to wait where I was. “How is your day?” I inquired.

He shrugged, “I’d rather be writing.”

My eyebrows sunk into his pain, “I’d rather be acting.” We quietly laughed at our exchange until he grabbed his earpiece and ran away, “Quiet on set, people!”

I scanned the fake city backdrop and considered the walls that made this fantasy FBI office appear alive. I smiled in recollection of my mom painting my middle school plays’ sets year-by-year. My God I love her, I smiled.

“Brenda!” my boss waved, forcing me back into 2008. He walked me through the maze of extras, professionally dressed desks, interrogation areas, and into a coffee break room. I considered grabbing a cup until I remembered the jug would only be an empty prop. My boss, who I completely adore, explained my tasks for the day as I took notes. But, part of me thought, “Please, not so loud. Everyone will think I’m an assistant!” Of course, that is exactly what I happen to be, but I didn’t want to be one that day or ever again. I just wanted to quit and have a hotel tycoon father. I didn’t want to take notes in a fake coffee break room. I wanted a real live latte and a camera in my face!

by Ruven Afanador

Fast-forward one week and, on my way to yoga with Teresa, my agent rung. “Brenda! God, you will love this role worlds more than the porn star one. It’s for a young, beautiful girl that believes she can make the world a better place. A sitcom. Casting liked your look but demanded you be a strong actress or you’d waste their time,” I smiled knowing my agent doesn’t even know if I am, “Be at Barham in one hour. I’ve emailed you the sides.”

I hung up in utter excitement and complete panic. I would have to go home, change, read the script, and be at the audition in an hour. This combination of tasks would usually take a good hour and a half but this was for a lead in a pilot. (Meaning a new show a network wants to test out. If they like it, it airs on TV and the cast’s lives change forever, ect.) At the risks of maimed pedestrians and traffic tickets, I was determined to make it…

 Perhaps only by God’s grace, I stepped through the door of the appropriate room at Universal 1:30pm on the dot. I didn’t even know it was at Universal! “Brenda?” the assistant called as my stomach sank to the floor, “Robin will see you now.”

Not having finished reading the script I joked with the casting director, “You threw me for a whirlwind! I thought I was going to yoga.”

“I know,” she apologized, “I’m sorry but it was very last-minute. Are you ready?”

“Sure,” I smiled.

Girls were to perform one out of the 4 scenes but after each one Robin asked me to read another. In the end, she quietly stood, gracefully walked to a nearby shelve, and pulled out a full script. “Can you read this and be back in one hour to meet the producers?”

Butterflies exploded in my tummy, “Yes!”

I ran to elevator, called mom, Drew, and my agent with screaming, sat in my car, and read the script. Quickly the hour passed and I went back in. Unfortunately a black girl, a short brunette, and a smattering of blondes sat on the couches, as well. At that point I realized this one wouldn’t come down to the girl they like best, but whether they choose to go black, white, or Asian. “Brenda,” the assistant called again, skipping me in front of the other notably angry girls.

This time Robin, 2 producers, and a camera looked on. I read the first scene and to my joy, the producers laughed and laughed. They asked me to read a second and they heartily laughed again. “So, so nice to meet you,” they smiled.

I floated out on a cloud.

Last night I shared the saga with my acting teacher and 2 other male students. My coach Peter unfortunately noted I would most likely have known if I got it by that evening. Then Jeff chimed in. “Listen Brenda, if I may, I’ve been in a ton of classes,” he rolled his eyes, “I mean a hell of a lot of classes and you are the best actress I’ve ever seen in person, by far.” I blushed in shock and disbelief as I looked to a smiling Peter nodding in agreement.

So, I was a complete brat the other day at CBS. I get there sometimes. I mean, often I feel like a kitten with a vibrant ball of yarn dangling before my paws, just out of my reach. However, I feel awakened to what an absurd and ungrateful view that happens to be. I see walking on set as a curse and not a blessing. Why? If I had a view into this life when I was 15 I would have peed my pants with joy and desire.

Instead of hearing a dream career call out only to beg, “When? When will it be? Can I have it now? How soon in now?” I need to see that it is now, indeed. Life truly is about the journey and I am intensely blessed. “Trucking” along is not easy, but living in the now is.

By nothing short of “meant to be” I stumbled upon one line from an old journal. It read, “All I want in life is to make a living completely off of writing and acting.” How soon is now? That is now!

Keep on believing and seeing the truth in life: when one desires the lovely and honorable things in life, dreams surround them in every moment of everyday. Don’t miss the moments, don’t miss the journey…, Brenda.

Exactly one week ago from today I spoke to my acting teacher and a fellow student about the issue of nudity on film. I attempted to clarify my views on clear-cut lines and obvious go-tos for making such a weighty “To be or not to be (naked)” sort of question for an actress. But, the more I babbled the more I realized I had no idea where I stood on this subject. Off I went with, “I adore being naked and if only we were European thinkers in the US, but what about being a naked screen-saver for a masturbating teenager, blah, blah, blah?” However, one thing was for certain: “I would never be one of those hoes on Californication! Those chicks have zero respect for themselves and that script is not brilliant enough to justify that trash.”- And that is a quote.- In all the ironic brilliance God Himself could offer, fast-forward one measly week and my black heels were clumping into Showtime television, script in hand for “Daisy” the porn star, “nudity and simulated sex involved.” For what? Californication. How does that happen?

The answer is simple: I’ve ignored the obvious far too long. Some subjects, such as horror films are wonderfully simple in my heart. I believe they belittle life with a perverted, glamorized look into the darkest areas of this world while offered no solution except, “here, get off on this.” No thanks. Explicitly banging my teenage boyfriend in Another Not Another Teen Movie Again? No thanks. Bearing my body completely and utterly to depict a victim in a concentration camp?

Absolutely, bring it on. It’s become, to my heart, far more complex than “no nudity ever, whatsoever!” However, where, when, and how does the line blur for people? How do I discover the point where morality and art harmoniously meet and honor my spirituality? When has enough become enough and when has one forfeited her soul to gain…Hollywood?

I must hope that there is no woman seeking an answer from me in this passage. I am, unfortunately, only sharing the journey I am on and must admit my faults and confusion. With my exhibitionist attitude and joy in sexuality, I often feel born into the wrong society and time. Countering, I consider that could be precisely why I am alive at this moment and in this position. Perhaps the answer is quite alive and for me to discover. Now however, there are pressing contradictions.

Consider 2 recent news stories. One, Beyonce is pregnant with Jay Z’s baby. An informed DJ announced, “Beyonce’s religious beliefs prompted her to get married as soon as possible.” Two, Miley Cyrus has an oh-so-scandalous picture of her barebacked and holding a satin sheet over her breasts for Vanity Fair. Miley stated, after the world got angry, “I took part in a photo shoot that was supposed to be ‘artistic’ and now, seeing the photograph…I feel so embarrassed.” Please excuse me, but these are perfect examples of the sort of public figure I do not long to be. Human beings in general carry so much social responsibility on their backs as it is; imagine being in the public eye and carrying the nation’s guilt trip. The thing is, if Beyonce actually believed a religious view that demanded her purity she wouldn’t be pregnant. So why need to conform to that view after the fact? As for Miley, Vanity Fair quoted her telling the magazine the shot was “really artsy [not in] a skanky way. Annie [Leibovitz] took, like, a beautiful shot.” God never contradicts Himself, so why must we? Why can’t a conclusion just be drawn on our sexuality? Americans have no fear of seeing heads blown to bits or a comedian’s penis on film, so it appears it would be better if Jay Z put his junk on SNL and Miley was cut up by a serial killer on Hannah Montana instead; the backlash would have been far less.

Unfortunately, this is America and I happen to be an actress right here, in the middle of it all. Therefore, must I abide by “the rules” to maintain a role model status or do I do what feels right? Role model seems a safer bet, as “feelings” are terribly misleading. Why then did I walk into that Californication audition? Please note, I am not Halle Berry- I cannot just “renegotiate” those certain scenes. Essentially, by walking into Showtime I said without a word, “I am willing to get naked and bounce on David Duchovney.” Truly.

To be honest, decision day was a painstaking one. I received the call from my agent and proceeded to spend the entire day in agony. I called my acting teacher first (so he could laugh at the irony) and give me advice.

 

His: Brenda, it’s acting. You are not a porn star, you’re playing one on TV! I played a child molester for God’s sake! And its Showtime!

Then I called my TV star boss: Brenda, its an amazing job. Reoccurring guest star! I mean your call, but what a great opportunity. But, best realize it’s a porn star. You will be kissing girls- 2, 3 at a time, pretending to be gettin’ it all kinds of ways…I mean, know that.

Drew: Brenda you need to follow your heart on this one. I’m behind you either way.

Mom&Dad: Oh, God. Oh, man. Oh, man that’s a tough one. Naked? Oh, God. Ok, let’s all pray together, yeah? -  And we did.

Then my agent sealed the deal. In her incredibly sweet tone, “Brenda, I read this role over several times, picked it apart…just to sure I wanted to submit you for it. I mean, I knew what it entailed…It is…’edgy.’ But look, you are gonna read it like no other girl they see. Just give that character a heart, a guilt, a sincerity, just be you. You will make her a sympathetic character that most girls couldn’t.”

I was touched by her words and felt, indeed she was right on this one.

So, I clumped into Showtime, past some of the leading actors, and into the audition room. I stated my name and height for the camera and proceeded to read every “f*ck” and “a**-licker” while pretending to get a Brazilian wax. Astonishingly, despite every foul line out of my mouth the casting woman’s comment was a sincere, “Very cute, Brenda.” Very cute! I nearly laughed out loud at my mission accomplished…

In the end, I felt I made the right choice (while simultaneously admitting to God, “I am not strong enough to turn down this role. Please just don’t let me have it if it’s wrong for me.”) I also felt ashamed for judging the writers and every girl that entered that room before me; I can only see outcome, not the intentions. On this end, I have no idea to what lengths I will have peace about taking on acting. I don’t know if the world will ever see my boobs, but I also don’t know that it won’t. Presently, I only care about touching hearts and changing lives though film. I am open to showing much in body and soul to give those roles an honest truth.

 This is where I stand on May 1, 2008.