The Cone Issue #8 Winter 2016 | Page 50

I nvitations to be a working actress fell away gradually, but agents would say, “things are slow…hang in there….” and other innocuous phrases to pacify the desperation. I had moved on anyway, after too many birthdays, the show Friends went off the air, I was passed over for Gilmore Girls and was never offered invitations to even audition, much less win a role for many things I could have been right for. (Other than a brief stint on the Larry David pilot, and hundreds of VO’s that didn’t pay the rent consistently enough for me to feel like it was a career.) My acting coach, Candace Silvers, had advised me to think of acting as a hobby. She pushed me into teaching about food. I knew a lot about food. Food had been a constant encouraging companion. I saved my life by switching my diet, and the actors who had seen my transformation from suffering to well, wanted to know my secrets. Still, I thought I had more time. When I was young , I couldn’t wait to be done with school and get on with success. It seemed that there was an order to life, like going from first grade to second grade. I faithfully completed some steps but missed the big rites of passage. There was no bat mitzvah, I had to quit college because of illness, so no big college graduation, no marriages, or divorces. I was a seed trying to sprout and somehow I never got watered enough to get out of the dirt. I kept hearing of my friend’s accomplishments. They bought homes, had kids, won promotions, and I picked away at growing into a food coach, letting go of the identity of actor, all the while feeling the same age as always, and not someone who should hurry things along. I didn’t know how to hurry things along. I should have heard my life passing. 50 THE CONE - ISSUE #8 - WINTER 2016