The Blog

by Mala Rambharose

new year…no resolution

It was a couple days before NYE.  I was laying in bed and turned my neck sideways.  The word ‘wrench’ sounds swift and violent - this felt like I was moving in slow motion...slow enough to stop what was happening – yet continuing to witness the pain shooting in an up-and-downwards spiral.

I was supposed to work a double this day and never called in sick.  I was hosting at a restaurant nearby and missed work once in the last three years. As the sun was starting to lighten the dark I had to make the decision.  I could barely lift my arm or turn my neck.

One call and one text later I felt relieved and drifted off back to sleep. 

This pull or pain had happened before, many years ago – pre-pandemic.  That first time I panicked.  I was scheduled to speak at the Scotiabank office the following morning and thought something was terribly wrong.  I argued with the doctor at the walk-in clinic who said it wasn’t serious - just caused by bad posture and prescribed pain killers.  I was blogging for HuffPost at the time and spending hours on my laptop in every haphazard position.  I demanded a prescription for physiotherapy so I could learn something preventative.

The doctor proceeded to rub my neck and shoulders – explaining that he didn’t just pop pills - he also did yoga.  In a long white coat and stethoscope – maybe- this could pass as a ‘natural’ moment - instead - he was wearing a royal purple suede blazer with jeans and loafers – apparently- a professor at U of T…I’m guessing “the cool one” in his department.

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I woke to a series of dings and glanced at my phone without moving my head.  It was my modeling agency.  I opened an email, saw the word ‘audition’ and tried to go back to sleep.  After spending weeks going to physio last time, I knew exactly how to re-strengthen and even-out my neck muscles.  At least this time I wasn’t anxious about some big speaking engagement.  Actually, I wasn’t spending hours writing or on my laptop at all.  I was mostly “on my feet all day.” So why was this happening AGAIN?

Then the calls started - first one agent, then the other - until they called together.  I could delay my day no longer and answered the phone.  “Did you see the emails we sent you???”  “Yes…of course…” I pretended to have read them in detail and skimmed through my tablet quickly.  Their voices sounded…different.  “We submitted two hundred profiles to a new series…the casting director only wants you to read for the part…”  I didn’t understand.  I did some print modeling, some runway and some background work.  I was trying to get into voiceovers but hadn’t landed any gigs yet.  I wasn’t an “actor.”

Actually reading these emails was insane.  This was a new show staring Woody Harrelson?! and Matthew McConaughey?! and the script…suggested? they wanted me to audition for the part of wife or girlfriend?  My agents were excited and equally surprised. “This is THE biggest audition WE’VE ever landed! REAL Hollywood!”

I needed a moment.  What was happening?  I tried getting out of bed almost forgetting that I couldn’t move my neck.   A cloud of confusion engulfed me.  The script was five pages long!  And everything said “confidential.”  In fact the casting agency went into some detail about talent not sharing this information with anyone.

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New Year’s Eve was in two days! and filming started mid-February!  Yes, there was only a miniscule chance they would choose me but this is not how I imagined 2024 ending or 2025 beginning - even thinking about the possibility of living in a different city was too much - especially LA (for a TTC and Beck Taxi kind of gal).  And how was I supposed to deal with the pressure in silence. Emotionally it felt like I was trapped in a vice and muzzled with my nervous system bordering on panic attack.

And then…there was…my crush.  He was scheduled to be in Toronto sometime in February.  I should have been spending every moment memorizing the script or learning something about Austin, Texas (the probable setting of the series)…or studying body language and facial expressions.  Instead? I was pacing back and forth…worrying that if - it just so happens I may have to move, would I still be able to meet my crush for coffee?  What if we just missed each other?  And what if there was a chance – even a tiny chance- he was open to getting to know me?...to seeing each other again? 

There was…a minute possibility -in this dimension- that I may have to…at some point…bring up the possibility…that at some point…in the near future…while filming…the tip of my tongue may have to graze the surface of Matthew McConaughey’s mouth?…or…the possibility that…while filming…Woody Harrelson’s hand may have to slide from my lower back onto my bum? in a ‘we are being professional actors’ sort of way.

How exactly does one have such a conversation?  Did ‘real actors’ have these tête-à-têtes with ‘regular humans’ when they are getting to know each other? (in this context ‘regular humans’ simply mean ‘non-actors’…my crush reminded me of some strange mix between Atticus Finch, a handsome leading man from a rom/com…and…Batman).  This was the state of the insanity of my thoughts.

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Thousands of people all over the world dreamed of auditioning for such a part, of moving to LA, of spending hours mulling over a script from every angle, attempting each moment with a new and fresh twist.  I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t process everything I was feeling in solitude and called my sister.

The following day we met after work but she was feeling under the weather and I felt guilty.  It was freezing in Toronto.  The moment we entered my ‘cozy’ apartment she ordered soup. For some reason, the Uber Eats delivery person cancelled the order when they were right outside my building and I felt guiltier.  I only had tap water and offered to make tea but she didn’t want it (or didn’t want to deal with my toilet at the time…whose tank I filled manually...)

My sister tried to help with memorizing lines and recording a self-tape but the moment I brought up my crush, she became…practical. “Mala…that is NOT what you should be focused on right now.  Even if there is a small possibility you might have to move, you NEED to RENEW your passport - at the very least!”  I knew she was right.  There wasn’t much time to prepare.  I had to think about real life things, like how I was going to keep my apartment in Toronto or how to get around in LA without a car (or driver’s license LoL)?

On New Year’s Eve, I wasn’t totally satisfied but submitted half the script before midnight.  Sitting on my bed I attempted to pray my way into 2025.  Sprinkled into my conversation with God was a pang of heartache as I imagined my crush kissing someone else…or a dozen beautiful women hovering around him like vultures at feeding time.   As the clock struck twelve my phone began to ring – over and over…and over again.  It was Jerry The Giant.  I didn’t answer.  Jerry The Giant was in the Guinness Book of World Records as the tallest man in Canada.  Jerry played Goliath in the 2015 version of David and Goliath. He was a ‘real’ actor and as kooky as they come.

In the distance I could hear people cheering and the crackle of random fireworks.  I had to try and sleep.  My shift started at 6:30am - no one wanted to cook on January 1st - the restaurant would be busy.

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On January 2nd I submitted the second half of the script.  My agents had been messaging regularly.  I usually handed auditions in late or not at all but this time I tried to be more professional.  In the end they were happy and I felt better but still anxiety-ridden.  At work, people kept asking what I did for NYE.  I told them I prayed my way in but doubt was in the air.  “No…what did you actually do?! “Well…what did you do during the day?”  I disliked lying by omission.  It was in my nature to babble, even talk too much sometimes.

The following week – sadly- my crush stopped answering my messages - and unexpectedly – Los Angeles started burning.  Dozens of celebrities lost their homes.  Entire neighborhoods were left in piles of ash.  Ironically, the news coverage looked like a scene out of an apocalyptic Hollywood movie.  I tried to get a hold of friends.  Eventually they answered, far away from the wildfires.

There’s no way production for the show would start in February.  It would most likely be delayed and they may even have to move locations.  Maybe they would film in Austin I thought.

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January felt like it was crawling by. I didn’t know if I was supposed to be hoping for a message from the casting director? or my crush?  I still hadn’t told anyone except my sister.  When I rolled into Parc Ave for my agents double birthday party, I wasn’t in the mood to drink and decided to indulge only in cake and making Instagram stories.  Immediately my agents came to hug and announce that I was their ‘big Hollywood’ influencer.  I felt embarrassed and reminded them that the audition was supposed to be confidential. 

Just then, one of my model friends walked in and wanted to catch up in the bathroom while she finished her makeup – perfect timing.  I could hide and tell her about my crush.  “Fuck him…he’s not answering your messages…Mala he’s just a guy…tell me about someone else!” She was one of my favorite people and had a roster of musicians and athletes she was talking to.  Once the cake was cut and the footage was captured I made my way home – a short walk…which always felt extra lonely in the winter.  I had barely crawled into bed when I started to cry. 

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The casting director didn’t send updates about what would happen to the show. I tried sticking to my simple routine. Each day I would walk back and forth from the Manulife Center, to The Holt Renfrew Center to The Hudson’s Bay Center - which were all connected underground. My first lap usually consisted of running errands with a Tim Hortons steeped tea in hand.  On the second lap I would go to the grocery store -Independent City Market- to hunt and gather.

Beside the City Market were tables and chairs set up in front of three large television screens. For some reason it felt like every time I walked by a Salesforce commercial was playing.   Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey – almost life sized – acting out a scene, reciting lines I couldn’t hear, both enthusiastic in a relaxed sort of way.  Sometimes it felt like they were laughing at me.

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Eventually, my crush responded to my messages again – maybe I texted too often…I couldn’t tell - and tried- to message less.  He was finally coming back to Toronto…and coincidentally texted from Austin? – maybe in some parallel universe (or this one) he was laughing at me too…or God was laughing.  Either way…it was a new year and I was floating along…without a plan…always at the mercy of prayers…always at the mercy of dreams…no rest…no responsibilities…no resolution.