Or Ziploc. Or Hibernation. Or Suspended Animation. Or Anything.
I don't want to get stuck.
First things first: let us settle a little debate. The Empire Strikes Back is the best Star Wars movie of all time. For those of you who feel that The Attack of the Clones is the best one, the trap door leading to the Sarlacc pit is to your right. Good luck. Millions of voices will cry out in blessed terror, and then suddenly, silence.
Now that that's out of the way and the Cloners have been properly disposed of, let us proceed.
When The Empire Strikes Back was released, I was all of 7 years old. I was a strapping lad who was addicted to all things science fiction, and was a true descendant from the original Latin, Juvenilus Dweebicus Maximus Dorkus. I truly was a Dweeb. Nerd, freakazoid, and sped-mo-wipe are some of my other favorite terms. Thanks to Matt Wallace from the 7th grade for that last one.
So, while other carbon-based lifeforms were out frolicking in the sun, establishing healthy relationships with other carbon-based lifeforms and flagging down the ice cream truck on sunny summer days, this sped-mo-wipe could usually be found in his room lining up Transformers and pitting them against each other in battle.
Stop judging me just because you never had the Optimus Prime limited edition statue.
In Empire, Han Solo gets frozen in carbonite. It’s ok: we all know that he ultimately makes it out and is rescued from gambling debts to a giant fat worm by some dude wielding telekinetic powers despite missing a hand who is accompanied by a half-nude twin sister who he frenched. I am not making this up. I believe that there were also two metal guys who provided comic relief.
But when Han got encased in that floating slab, for many of us, it was all over, and we got stuck: especially those of us who are female. Or women, who are females. But these particular females possess a choromosomal overage that make them attracted to feather-haired science fiction characters that also wear fedoras and brandish a whip. After all, Han was the sexiest Star Wars character next to Bib Fortuna. The fact that he knew it just made him all the more sexy.
At least I think that is true, because I do not understand what being sexy means, except to say that I am aware that I have a sex, which is not to be confused with actually having sex. My wife and I already tried that, and it produced two small creatures that demand all of our money and time and energy, so we are acutely aware of actions that have consequences.
Which more or less brings me back to my previous point: Han Solo crossed Vader. And Greedo. And Lando. And Jabba. And so that's why he ended up as a floating brick. See? Consequences.
The truth of the matter is that I am in fact a major dweeb. If you laid your eyes on my current Transformers collection, you would experience envy akin to the envy experienced by Michael Jackon’s nose when it saw all those other noses and just wanted to be normal. By my music collection and Flock of Seagulls front hair swoop, it would appear that I am stuck in the 80’s. (I am.) I am still in love with Sigourney Weaver, and Ripley did in fact rescue Newt from the Alien Queen. The needs of the many do outweigh the needs of the few, and boom boxes will always live in infamy. We all instantly knew the answer to "Who ya gonna call?" And video did kill the radio star.
I am forever encased in the carbonite of the nostalgia of the 80's.
I guess that is better than getting stuck in something else. I am of course talking about the 90’s.
2 Legit 2 Quit
In the 90’s, as I alluded to in my previous life-changing blog, I started in voiceovers. However, that is not how the story ended. I got stuck in other things. Shortly after starting in voiceovers, I deviated from voiceovers to singing, and then jingles, and then of course, singles. Then, because I was still a Dweeb, I joined Amway.
After my multilevel marketing exorcism, I left Amway to join the ranks of customer service workers. I then proceeded to graduate to management, and then service management. Then I started my own multimedia production business which incorporated all of my gifts and abilities, which include farting on command. I am not kidding and am prepared to demonstrate. Finally, after stealing a few minutes of your life away with this pointless story, I came full-circle to voiceovers.
Hammer was hip, at least for a little while longer. Mom jeans were in. Whitney Houston would always love us. Napster helped us all steal music. Budweiser gave us hearty greetings to employ. AOL told us we had mail. Ross and Rachel drove us crazy. Fanny Packs took over the world. Spice Girls owned entertainment (my favorite was the DNA Spice – get it?) Speaking of DNA splicing, dino’s came back and ate people sitting on toilets in Jurassic Park. Speaking of toilets, the new low-flows were introduced. And speaking of introductions, the 90’s brought us Hansen, which encouraged all humanity to leave the 90’s as quickly as a hot tub with something floating in it.
Then, society got stuck in Y2K and figuring out how to make things work after everything reset to zero, which was a genuine scare for most people - myself included - who don’t know computer coding and whose VCR’s are still blinking on 12:00:00. But – and let us pat ourselves on the back here for our ingenuity – we finally figured it out and got ourselves collectively back together just in time to be attacked by terrorists the next year. Yay Earth people.
For many of us, we can get stuck, whether that is in the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, Aughts, or even just yesterday. But it is time to move on and be present. After all, there is no time like the present, which is a phrase that in the original Mongolian reads “Man who no move get flatten by steamroller and put in Ziploc.”
Pass the Nail Polish Remover please
Maybe you have seen Tom Hanks in The Money Pit. In one of the all-time funniest scenes in movie history, Tom’s character sinks slowly through a hole in the floor that was covered up by an area rug. All he can do at that point is count his money and sing The Name Game.
There are so many ways we as voice talent - nay, as freelancers the world over - can get stuck. Not even nail polish remover can dissolve the super glue we find ourselves in. In fact, some people like this fine specimen of humanity learned that the hard way recently, and of course is planning to sue. I think she has a case. Excuse me. *insert uproarious laughter here*
Here are the ways that we can get stuck:
- Marketing: We don’t want to intrude.
- Reading books: We feel like we have to hunt for jobs and keep working instead of learning.
- Over-analyzing our auditions: We cannot just accept that they are good enough.
- Over-editing our auditions: We do not take time to streamline our workflow.
- Social media quicksand: We cannot stop scrolling endlessly.
- Licking metal poles during winter: Don’t be a Harry.
Many voice talent in particular suffer from:
- Analysis Paralysis: spinning their wheels on the correct interpretation of a script, feeling the need to provide eighteen different auditions or overthinking aspects of their delivery, or
- Imposter Syndrome: thinking they are not worthy; that they will soon be discovered as a fraud; that they have no business doing voiceovers
These two conditions can be easily solved by having someone wrap you up in packing tape and smack you in the head repeatedly with an oar. Alternatively - and with less legal repercussions! - you can talk it through with colleagues who are in the same boat as you are. After all, most people in boats are glad to help you talk through issues, because they face (or at least have the potential to face) the same issues themselves. It is in this exchange of comradery and shared life experiences that true fellowship is born, and overcoming begins. It is where we get UN-stuck.
Additionally, there is the added benefit that most people in boats do not have packing tape to wrap you up with. But they do have oars, so keep a weather eye on them.
So that’s it. Unstick yourself, or I am wrapping you up in packing tape, smacking you in the head with an oar, and playing Hansen on a loop until we seal you up in Carbonite for good.
Now that I have thoroughly satisfied every boy who grew up in the 80's, it is time to write my next blog about Transformers toys and Kelly LeBrock. Don't hate her because she's beautiful.
"Saturday night inspiration! Kelly LeBrock in Vogue. Lovin' those chucky style necklaces! #Vogue #fashion #love #Etsy #1980s #etsyshop #etsyvintage #swag #vintage #ooak #glam #picoftheday #vintageshops #mixnmatch #streetstyle #inspiration #kellylebrock #" by Shuushuu-by-Lulu is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
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