Telly the Truth

So if anyone was wondering, the Telly you see on TV - the one that worries all the time and can’t keep seem to figure out how to keep control over his sense of terror with regard to everyday life - that’s basically me. I mean, I crank it up a notch for the show usually, and the things that I get upset about on the show are not the things that really bother me. But I’m a high-strung guy. Always have been. A therapist many years ago got me on this kick of really trying to use it to my advantage in my acting. To embrace roles that would allow me to not only exploit my natural ability to feel fear where there should be no fear, but to realize just how silly my real episodes of panic were. In some ways, it really worked. I’ve come a long way in recognizing that panic is a beast that feeds itself. But the Telly on TV doesn’t exactly have problems that are worse than mine, so looking at my own personal episodes and trying to make them pale in comparison just isn’t going to happen.

Take 9-11. I was a complete wreck. I mean we’re right there, New York City. On some level, I’m still in recovery. And it really made me resent the character I play. I mean, when the world is literally crumbling down around you, how are you supposed to go to work and pretend that it’s within reason to be totally neurotic about matching shapes or whatever? It’s not reasonable. It’s pathetic. It’s embarrassing.

I’m not embarrassed about my job. I love my job, I love the people and monsters I work with, and it makes me happy to have fans, and to do something good for kids. I think we all have lots of reasons to be proud of what we do. Still, over the years I’ve had a number of episodes where the “what the hell am I doing” bug bites me just a little too hard, and that self-feeding beast decides to sit down for a feast. Buffet style. This is what happened yesterday.

I was doing a music bit with a couple of the kids and Bob. I had a triangle (why don’t I get to rock the brass and woodwinds as much anymore?) and two takes in a row I accidentally clanked it against the side of the picnic table, kinda loud, while Bob was trying to deliver lines. The first time I apologized and he just ran it again from a good edit point, but the second time he lost it. He walked away mumbling to himself and grabbed his coat. When the director, Ken, asked him where he was going and told him we had to bang this out to get the show to editing on time, Bob got right up in his face, pointed at me, and said, “Then you can tell HIM to get control of himself. Until then, you can just run a ‘BEST OF MISTER NOODLE’ or something. I’m out of here.”

Everybody just wrapped, there was nowhere to go from there. But I was frozen. I started to get all clammy, which causes my fur to matt, and I just start to look like hell really fast. Marty could see me freaking out and walked me off set to sit down. He got me some water and I told him I was OK, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t believe I had just been bawled out for making a noise with a dang triangle. Then I started thinking, making a noise with a triangle *did* screw up my job at that particular moment. And if I can screw up my job by making a noise with a triangle, WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING? It was all downhill from there, I mean, I wish it ended with worrying about my career. Next thing you know I’m recalling every worry my mother ever had about fulfilling her hopes and dreams, wondering if I’ll ever connect with the right girl, have kids, have grandkids - oh, and while I’m thinking about EVERY LITTLE THING that REALLY STRESSES ME OUT… Do I have cancer?

I don’t even remember a lot of the episode, that’s what they’re like. It eventually becomes a blackout, whether I remain conscious or not. Marty told me that I never passed out, but my breathing was way out of control so he grabbed me a couple of Xanax from my bag (I tell all the staff what to do if this happens - it used to be considerably more often). He took me for a walk, and somewhere in the middle of that is where I sorta ‘came to’.

Yesterday evening Bob called me and apologized. I’m not sure if Marty talked to him or what. He didn’t mention the panic attack so maybe he didn’t know. But Bob totally owned it, he said it was a really stupid thing to freak out about and he’s just stressed about the direction the show is going, and yada yada. I told him we’re all stressed, we all have to vent, etc. He’s taking me out to lunch Monday.

These things are embarrassing though. I mean it’s one thing to get yelled at on set. It happens to everybody. But making everyone wonder if you need an ambulance - that’s not cool.