Why I Moved.

I am a working actor working on the working part.

I may not have made this clear to many, but this is why I moved to New York. I've been acting since high school, I graduated college with acting, and a year later I found opportunity in New York. Why not LA? Because in my first year as a graduate, working with my dad in LA, I didn't go on a single audition. I didn't even try. I came up with every excuse why I couldn't do it at the moment, why it had to come later, why I needed to do something else for someone else. And I was just about give up the thought of pursuing this career altogether when I got a call from an old friend who started working as an actor during college in New York. We acted in high school together, and she had been telling her manager about me, and offered me an opportunity to audition for her manager. In God's peculiar providence He gave me a hint that maybe I shouldn't give it up after all, and that maybe I need to get away for a little while. The events after that include a lot of reflection, prayer, and seeking to know God's will for my life...and after all that here I am, living in New York, represented by Smith Talent Group, a working actor working on the working part. For now, at least.

I don't think New York is permanent for me, but then again God changes our minds and hearts as times passes so we'll see.

Let me correct an earlier sentence: I know I hadn't made it clear to many. To be honest I avoided mentioning it altogether, and only brought it up because I didn't want people to call me one day surprised to find out I moved to the East Coast. Yet I still refrained from mentioning it, mainly because I didn't like telling people I wanted to be an actor. It often leads to small talk that, although sincere, is just kind of hard to deal with; involving comments on the financial instability, the industry superficiality, the strong racial barriers, etc...all the while I have to seem as though I like being reminded of how hard it's gonna be. They might give me advice like start with commercials or do extra work, and then ask me to remember them when I'm famous. I don't know how to put it -- there is no surefire way to build a steady career, and it isn't necessarily about being famous -- so most of the time I just nod my head, smile, and try to change topics.

I don't know why now I find it so much easier to confess this stuff. I think I was just so insecure before. But nearly half a year later I think I'm finally starting to get in the rhythm of this business. I've had a handful of strong auditions, read some insightful books, am studying at a great studio, and am getting a real handle on my career. They tell you it takes a year to get settled into New York, but with hard work and some real motivation I think I settled in a lot more quickly. Again, I'm not planning on this move to be permanent or even really long-term. I want a career in LA but I have to prove two things first: #1) This is what God is calling me to do & #2) I can actually maintain the rigid and enduring discipline it takes to manage an acting career. I'm almost sure of #1, but I'll know better by how soon I achieve #2.

And how am I making that discipline happen? Ah, that is the next post!

Pray for Change.

It's the end of 2009...where am I at?

I've realized these changes aren't going to come quickly. I went back to California for Christmas on the 12th. There was this undercurrent of anticipation. Selfishly enough, it wasn't for everyone back home. Don't get me wrong I was certainly excited to see them, but I was also eager to know how I've changed over the past few months. You ever stand in the frame of the doorway and with the tops of your hands you push real hard on the sides like you were Samson taking town the Philistines, then just when the veins start to surface on your forehead you let go, step away, and watch your arms just float up? Yeah, the homecoming wasn't like that.

It's impatience. Not the New York brand (just yet), it's still just the same old California, old Julian brand impatience. This isn't just going to take a lot more time, it's going to take a lot more effort and discipline.

So I've taken some time to re-strategize. Michael Phelps said he wouldn't be where he is today had he not put his goals in writing. I'll be doing the same for my career, with time limits. So after the hometown visit, the holiday weight gain, the snowy return, and the weekend festivities all find their end...it's time to get down to business. Oh yeah, did I mention that I'm out here to find work as an actor? More about that in the next post. Happy New Decade!

Lord, we give You glory for the work You've done this past year. We don't pray for ease and comfort in the days ahead, we pray for change, and the refining fire to purify us according to the riches of Your grace, and the wisdom of Your plan. We pray for change, for the good news of Jesus Christ to go to all people in all nations. To God be the glory, far beyond 2010.

Previously unpublished.

...sometimes I just forget to.

Written: Dec 2, 2009
Title: I have a bed!

The realization still retains its savor despite having come to it many times throughout my afternoon. I picked it up today from the mattress store, and with asinine resolve attempted to carry it atop my head all the way to my apartment. How far away was it you ask? Well, I'm not sure...which is why about four increasingly aimless blocks east and and a just about defeated block south, I called for a cab. Just in time, too, because as I hung up I felt some drops on my left temple and cheek. I smiled and just laughed with God at my own silliness. I dressed it up with some brand new sheets from Target I had waiting atop my shelf, then sadly rushed to the train as I had an hour-long ride to acting class waiting for me.

Which brings me here, five hours later, with a release of two and a half months anticipation, as sprawled out as a person of my lankage can be on a twin size mattress, thinking to myself...wow, praise the Lord, I have a bed.


Written: Dec 5, 2009
Title: First snow.

Nothing really elaborate about it. Same dream as every Southern California kid (who hadn't lived in L.A. or Malibu in recent years), with the longing curiosity for what flurries would look like on their bedroom window...only to confirm that indeed, there's nothing really elaborate about it.

Still gosh darn cool, though. Milestone successfully, and succinctly, chronicled.

Lunch with Kuya Nelson.

"Oh Ian, it's so good to hear your voice."

In most cases, I try not to anticipate how much somebody might miss me; I'm very good at indulging in that stuff. Other times I just get taken by surprise. Kuya* Nelson is someone that for a long time has been in my life, but I still didn't expect him to say that. Suddenly, in the cold resonating stone walls of the New York Public Library, I'm compelled to reply with a warm chuckle of spontaneous relief "it's so great to hear your voice too."

He's decided to treat me to anywhere I want go. Mrs. Rodriguez probably knows better than most how dangerous it is to hand me a blank check -- once in elementary school she gave me a $20 bill to take over to the snack shop during one of Alex Rodriguez's baseball games, and I greedily splurged on $17 worth of junk food. I had the worst feeling in my stomach later that day; it's one of my most prized childhood regrets.

I take us to Eisenberg's -- fairly priced and delightfully local. While we're walking he asks me what I enjoying doing most here, and with a gesture to everything around us I answer "this." I probably spend most of my day "going to" and "coming from," and after I've done that I tell him my second favorite thing to do is "sit and watch," mostly in the park. I can imagine most articulate residents here would say the same; after all, they're doing it with me.

"You know everybody back home still talks about you. Even though they hate for you to be so far away, they still feel connected with all your blog posts and stuff"

he tells frankly over some pastrami sandwiches and dish of pickle spears, and for the first time in a profound way...I miss home. I guess I just got into the idea of community here really easily. Large-scale, expansively conscious, metropolitan community, is something that's always sounded so exciting to me, and continues to be. That's why I don't get tired of walking, why I don't get bored sitting, why I never run out of things to see -- you ever notice how pretty much anything can become something you "just gotta see" when a lot of other people are seeing it? Well let me tell you, there are a lot of people in Manhattan. But my time with Kuya Nelson reminded me of something I hadn't realized I missed so much: that small-scale cooped-up kind of community. That suburban, microcosmic, I-noticed-you-were-missing kind of community. I also realized just how much time nowadays I spend doing my own thing.

I'm really starting to notice that God picked Kuya Nelson for a specific reason. I don't think we've ever spent time like this before so I was initially nervous about it, yet he so easily divulges his war stories with me, and when I bear my own soul to him, he knows just how to point me back to Christ. These are the kinds of exchanges mature, godly men need to be having with men of the next generation. Afterwards, he drives me back to Times Square where I have my acting class, and as we trade rushed goodbyes at a red light, he hugs me, musses my hair up a bit and tells me he loves me. That and he hands me some cash that he gives me permission to use on anything I want. "Wow," I think to myself, quickly restraining my lavish imagination and resolving to put it towards that parking ticket I got last month. PTL.



*kuya means "older brother" in Tagalog, term of respect

Subway Observations #3

2:25pm
Less than middle-aged man. Walks through turnstile and it alarms, doesn't pay attention, twiddling fingers with no regard for those around. Fascinatingly intimidating self-assurance.

2:35pm
Two more than middle-aged men. One on the left looks perpetually convicted, regretful. Other man looks enduringly aloof, unfazed. I'm guessing at that age you can only be one of the two.

I'm going to get my new bed soon. It's been a week so far sleeping on the hardwood floor, a humbling and hilarious week. After having spent months on couches, I'm easily grateful for a space of my own, however small, however uncomfortable. Which is not to say it's uncomfortable; I have shelves and a dresser, a closet, a pillow and warm blanket, a kitchen and living room, a laundry basket and winter coat, and of course my steadfast companion, the laptop. Above all this, a God who cares for the sparrows.

Post-turkey Check-in.

"Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither."

- C.S. Lewis

Hoping everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. As we all wake up from the food comas, some of us not too long ago, probably only to sit down to devour our way to yet another food coma, we often beg the question "okay...what to do next?" Some maybe got up earlier or never even slept to hit the Black Friday market, which quite often ends up working off a lot of that holiday warmth we just built up (not to mention a couple of those holiday pounds too). As I sit here in my drafty apartment room, on my hardwood floor with a plate of pan-fried mashed potatoes and turkey rippings, I have to ask myself "am I still as thankful today as I was yesterday?" I read my Thanksgiving post from two years ago and I have to say I disagree with some of it; that is, I don't hate the fact that we take out one day a year to remember what we're thankful for. Even though year-long gratitude is imperative, it's no surprise that during that time, we forget here and there. So Thanksgiving is a great idea, not simply as a day for catch-up on our gratitudings, but moreso as a checkpoint to see what kind of progress we're making.

So what am I thankful for? I'm thankful for the same thing I'm thankful for on Christmas, Easter, and hopefully every single day increasingly: God's gift of salvation by grace in Jesus Christ.

That's where it starts, yet hardly where it ends. You see, if you believe that Jesus was sent by God to die on the cross for your sins, then immediately you give everything in your life a greater worth. For "He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?" That's the highest compliment you can give your loved ones and the things in your life. That they weren't just given arbitrarily to you by a thoughtless or distant God, but that they were given custom-fit with your name embroidered on their hearts by a person who cares about you so much that He's given you His most prized treasure to you, the one possession in this universe that He loves more than anything else...His very own son. That, my friends, is something you never stop giving thanks for.

Hi Pastor Ed,

When Melody proposed that I write to you, I took on the job quite instantly. While I already mentioned a lot in your birthday e-mail, I'm compelled to say more. I was 10 years old when my parents moved to La Habra, allowing me to stay at CFBC. From that time on I felt somewhat like a community child. Not to discredit the care of my parents, but I found myself clinging to whatever adults were nearby or whichever ones knew who I was. What I would later come to know as one of your most charming peculiarities, was how easily you remembered my name. Perhaps it was the countless Sunday afternoons I spent at your house, or the occasional night's stay, but you quickly became more than my pastor. You probably don't remember -- as I'm sure the walls of your mind are jam-packed with Scripture, languages, family lineages and names of visitors -- but I want you to know that I still remember the little moments. I remember how you used to call me "Ian boy." I remember the first time you picked me up for a sleepover with Jan Jan. I remember how you used to smile at me when I raised my hand to share blessings at prayer meeting -- sometimes I'd raise my hand for that very purpose.

You see, I'm happy to be the one writing in place of your now grown/overseas children, because growing up you have been the most prominent figure of a godly Christian man in my life. My father struggles to identify himself with Christ, even today, so early on my hopes turned to you as that role model I needed. It's befitting enough to say that every boy longs for the approval of his father, and as much as I have always chased yours, you readily handed it over in faith. I attribute so much of my growth to that patient, resilient, gentle faith that you had in God's plan for me.

Your hand-print is unmistakably apparent on my development as a believer and leader, and so it's with great ease that I praise God for you, Pastor Ed. It's with great ease that I sorrow over you too. At the time of your heart failure, I don't think I've ever prayed so hard for anyone in my life. That was a frightening and sobering time for me, one now that I am blessed to have had; God has given our church a healthy warning to cherish the time He's given you to stay with us, or should I say given us to stay with you. And believe me, Pastor Ed, I do. I really do. I love you.

Happy Thanksgiving,
Ian