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I saw this on McGuyver once.
Sep. 27th, 2009 | 04:08 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: 
cranky
I have spent the last four hours being locked out of the house I am sitting for. It has one of those self-locking locks. The only useless objects I had with me is my locked car and the clothes I slept in, plus two bobby pins and a hair tie. The dogs were on the other side of the glass door, taunting me with their beady eyes. I had to go to a few neighbours' to make phone calls. The only number I know by heart is my parents' line, so I had to play phone tag a bit until I could reach someone who come rescue my sorry ass. My mum's friend who hired me through her biz ended up coming to get me, and we went over to the homeowner's mum's house to get a spare. In this kind of adventure, you learn a few things:
1. Neighbours in nice neighbourhoods are not necessarily neighbourly. I lucked out with one, who gave me some bottled water. This made me have to pee, so when they had to leave, I was screwed.
2. Never leave the house for one minute in the clothes you sleep in.
3. When you step in dog poo, everyone knows it.
4. Memorize phone numbers, or get them tattooed on your skin.
5. There is no use in trying out any kind of intense telekenetic powers, no matter HOW desperate you are.
6. There is also no use in pretending you are McGuyver. He was special and you are not. A hair tie and two bobby pins will NOT unlock a door.
1. Neighbours in nice neighbourhoods are not necessarily neighbourly. I lucked out with one, who gave me some bottled water. This made me have to pee, so when they had to leave, I was screwed.
2. Never leave the house for one minute in the clothes you sleep in.
3. When you step in dog poo, everyone knows it.
4. Memorize phone numbers, or get them tattooed on your skin.
5. There is no use in trying out any kind of intense telekenetic powers, no matter HOW desperate you are.
6. There is also no use in pretending you are McGuyver. He was special and you are not. A hair tie and two bobby pins will NOT unlock a door.
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House-sitting with empty drawers
Sep. 26th, 2009 | 10:01 pm
There's a place: house-sitting
I got a feeling: 
blah
I'm house-sitting at the daughter's of the lady I sometimes sit for, the daughter of the one whose very expensive chair I thought I ruined that one time. Played some pool in the basement, forgot to walk to dogs.
The kitchen has drawers upon drawers, and about 3 of them are being used. In one drawer, she has one spatula. In another, she has an ice cream scoop. I can't find the trash bin or a can opener. I am befuddled. Some people live so strangely. I guess all she eats are pancakes and ice cream, but where does she put the empty carton? I promise, I have looked everywhere except in her walk-in closet, which I will inspect later with all the curiosity of a bored loser. Same with the liqour cabinet. Maybe it will be hiding amonst the summer shoes, or maybe behind the malt scotch.
I am also wondering why she has salt and pepper shakers. This goes right up there with the house-sitting episode where the kitchen was full of packages and thingies of food with unbroken seals. In their drawers: about a thousand unopened dvds. I can't make shit like this up.
The kitchen has drawers upon drawers, and about 3 of them are being used. In one drawer, she has one spatula. In another, she has an ice cream scoop. I can't find the trash bin or a can opener. I am befuddled. Some people live so strangely. I guess all she eats are pancakes and ice cream, but where does she put the empty carton? I promise, I have looked everywhere except in her walk-in closet, which I will inspect later with all the curiosity of a bored loser. Same with the liqour cabinet. Maybe it will be hiding amonst the summer shoes, or maybe behind the malt scotch.
I am also wondering why she has salt and pepper shakers. This goes right up there with the house-sitting episode where the kitchen was full of packages and thingies of food with unbroken seals. In their drawers: about a thousand unopened dvds. I can't make shit like this up.
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Liberating old people
Sep. 25th, 2009 | 01:30 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: 
confused
So I am armed with several months worth of paycheques that my employer likes to dish out NOT twice a month but every four of five months, and what do I do? I go thrifting.
Goodwill score of the day: an ugly yellow vintage luggage case that an old lady snagged before I could. I watched with itching hands her husband, doing his husbandly duty, talking her out of it, and not being from the women's lib era, she complied instead of kicking his ass and buying it herself. I wanted to step up and get all Gloria Steinam, girlfriend to girlfriend, but instead I snatched up the case the second her husband set it down.
The director wants to know if I have watched his borderline porno-film-noir yet. I haven't. I've had way too many body parts to wash lately.
Goodwill score of the day: an ugly yellow vintage luggage case that an old lady snagged before I could. I watched with itching hands her husband, doing his husbandly duty, talking her out of it, and not being from the women's lib era, she complied instead of kicking his ass and buying it herself. I wanted to step up and get all Gloria Steinam, girlfriend to girlfriend, but instead I snatched up the case the second her husband set it down.
The director wants to know if I have watched his borderline porno-film-noir yet. I haven't. I've had way too many body parts to wash lately.
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"It's just my Viagra," Part Deux
Sep. 18th, 2009 | 11:44 am
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: contemplative
Okay, so today I get to volunteer at the veggie assoc. booth at a local festival. I haven't volunteered in awhile, and if I can make it tomorrow, there is 'walk for farm animals.'
I haven't worked on my writing for a long time. It's weird how we get fired up in one area and then we slump in another. I say I have too much going on, but do I really? I can certainly cut out my internet/facebook/youtube time.
My parents are back home and it was lovely having them away. So ready to quit my real estate job. Yesterday I took pics of a really gear house. They had a media room set up to look like a mini-theatre. I want a movie theatre. What I really want to a lot of space for people from out of town can stay with me or people can just crash for days at a time. What is it with people and awesome houses that they don't know how to decorate?
So that rather randy director emailed and said that he wants to put more kissing in this one scene (that someone had previously told him was too much) in this one movie and then he wants his character to "strangle" my character. This is getting really over the top. I DO NOT want to be a part of his strange movies anymore. I don't think he's dangerous or anything. He's getting off on all this. There's no doubt about it. How should I go about telling him no without burning bridges?
So a few nights ago there was a show I attended with a lot of local actors I know and that really annoying chick who wants to be in movies and goes around the local actors and gets their autographs at after parties. I'm serious. After the film fest, she went around the party and got autographs, and everyone was too drunk to really question why she was fawning over them like they were a-list celebs. I wanted to tell her to stop, that she was acting silly, but I was too drunk on martinis.
She knows a casting director who gets me jobs sometimes and she just so happened to be cast as an extra in that pretty big movie I was talking about before. She shows up on set about a half hour late and she was beside herself when she got to sit behind the pretty big actor in this one scene. Throughout the filming, she looked on the verge of an orgasm. She is seriously one of the dumbest girls you'll ever meet, and at the show, she came over to my table and wanted me to cram about 7 years of photography education into her head in that one evening. She doesn't know how to research anything herself, and we started talking about the supernatural and how she thinks she's psychic. Every single weird thing that has happened to her, though, has happened via facebook. She said her mum once saw a ufo flying over her baseketball hoop. I asked her cheekily if her mum had been smoking something, and she said 'probably,' for her mum really enjoys pot. Which explains everything. The girl is a clingy, needy downer drama queen who is constantly putting herself down in order to get you to condridict her. I feel sorry for her, but talking to her is like slowly skewering your head on a rusty wire-hanger.
I haven't worked on my writing for a long time. It's weird how we get fired up in one area and then we slump in another. I say I have too much going on, but do I really? I can certainly cut out my internet/facebook/youtube time.
My parents are back home and it was lovely having them away. So ready to quit my real estate job. Yesterday I took pics of a really gear house. They had a media room set up to look like a mini-theatre. I want a movie theatre. What I really want to a lot of space for people from out of town can stay with me or people can just crash for days at a time. What is it with people and awesome houses that they don't know how to decorate?
So that rather randy director emailed and said that he wants to put more kissing in this one scene (that someone had previously told him was too much) in this one movie and then he wants his character to "strangle" my character. This is getting really over the top. I DO NOT want to be a part of his strange movies anymore. I don't think he's dangerous or anything. He's getting off on all this. There's no doubt about it. How should I go about telling him no without burning bridges?
So a few nights ago there was a show I attended with a lot of local actors I know and that really annoying chick who wants to be in movies and goes around the local actors and gets their autographs at after parties. I'm serious. After the film fest, she went around the party and got autographs, and everyone was too drunk to really question why she was fawning over them like they were a-list celebs. I wanted to tell her to stop, that she was acting silly, but I was too drunk on martinis.
She knows a casting director who gets me jobs sometimes and she just so happened to be cast as an extra in that pretty big movie I was talking about before. She shows up on set about a half hour late and she was beside herself when she got to sit behind the pretty big actor in this one scene. Throughout the filming, she looked on the verge of an orgasm. She is seriously one of the dumbest girls you'll ever meet, and at the show, she came over to my table and wanted me to cram about 7 years of photography education into her head in that one evening. She doesn't know how to research anything herself, and we started talking about the supernatural and how she thinks she's psychic. Every single weird thing that has happened to her, though, has happened via facebook. She said her mum once saw a ufo flying over her baseketball hoop. I asked her cheekily if her mum had been smoking something, and she said 'probably,' for her mum really enjoys pot. Which explains everything. The girl is a clingy, needy downer drama queen who is constantly putting herself down in order to get you to condridict her. I feel sorry for her, but talking to her is like slowly skewering your head on a rusty wire-hanger.
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"Is that a gun in your pocket?" "No, it's my viagra."
Sep. 10th, 2009 | 02:42 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: 
weird
I feel bad I haven't been posting much and ignoring the cool LJ people I love and adore (aka my real friends as opposed to imaginary). Just dropped off my neighbour at the salon (she broke her arm) and was ever so SLIGHTLY dissapointed I didn't have to sit and wait for her because the office was strewn with tabloid mags which I never read (ie: read once in awhile in secret), but I just have rehearsal tonight and the director emailed saying their photographer can't make it to do some publictity shots of our show and would I mind "taking some quick shots" for them (ie: no pay). WHY do people always say the same thing? By saying "quick shots," that means there's no work on my part. I do not mind doing this and I'm more than happy to do it. But who are they kidding?
I can't decide if this local director I've met is a perv. He writes these screenplays with a man and a woman on the brink of foreplay, and all of a sudden there's a blackout and the man is tied up and at the mercy of the woman, who is always, in fact, a murderess. I asked him who was going to play the man in each of these vingettes. He said he was going to play the man himself. Which makes me think: is he just getting off on this? He's older, probably about 60ish. He's not a "leading man" type. He's done lots of projects and a ton of people I know have worked with him. But there's something a little sleazy about the whole thing. He sent me home with a dvd of a 30's-esque film noir, and I can tell by looking at the cover and reading the back that the two women (the detective and the murderess) are lesbians. I think he gets off on that kind of thing and writes these screenplays to fullfill some kind of fantasy.
I'm really glad I didn't get the part of the murderess.
Okay, so what else has been going on?
Been eating chocolate and fig bars and I really must stop.
My employer actually PAID me a partial...in CASH. I'm seriously broke and it's back to a bank account in double-digits and soon-to-be single digits.
Looking forward to New Orleans.
I can't decide if this local director I've met is a perv. He writes these screenplays with a man and a woman on the brink of foreplay, and all of a sudden there's a blackout and the man is tied up and at the mercy of the woman, who is always, in fact, a murderess. I asked him who was going to play the man in each of these vingettes. He said he was going to play the man himself. Which makes me think: is he just getting off on this? He's older, probably about 60ish. He's not a "leading man" type. He's done lots of projects and a ton of people I know have worked with him. But there's something a little sleazy about the whole thing. He sent me home with a dvd of a 30's-esque film noir, and I can tell by looking at the cover and reading the back that the two women (the detective and the murderess) are lesbians. I think he gets off on that kind of thing and writes these screenplays to fullfill some kind of fantasy.
I'm really glad I didn't get the part of the murderess.
Okay, so what else has been going on?
Been eating chocolate and fig bars and I really must stop.
My employer actually PAID me a partial...in CASH. I'm seriously broke and it's back to a bank account in double-digits and soon-to-be single digits.
Looking forward to New Orleans.
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More weird stuff and a holiday plan
Sep. 1st, 2009 | 04:04 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: 
creative
Okay, so my funds are seriously dropping, so much so that I'm anxious about spending $9 on a movie with a friend of mine Saturday night. $9 is a lot when you have about $70 in the bank. I survived a few months ago with $7.75 in my account for two whole weeks. I just have to stay creative in the saving money area, or I have to start whoring myself.
Mum JUST told me that after my show in October (I'm in a musical; it's going to be gear!), we should head down to New Orleans again. Last time I was there was pre-Katrina. Actually, about two months pre-Katrina. I will be able to take some brand spanking new photos because all I'm taking NOW is headshots and real estate. There is a new gallery opening nearby and I got word that they're looking for submissions. Whoot! Should I be irresponsible and take off a week and have a holiday in New Orleans? Sure.
Waiting to hear if I got a part in a new film. Tomorrow I'm filming for the webisode. Two of the commerical directors have dropped off the face of the earth. They were calling me and I tried to return their calls and now no answer. I'm up for a role in another commerical and I seriously need the money. Things could be so much worse financially. One friend of mine is still "homeless," another has severe asthma and doesn't have any insurance. There's only so much I can do to help them.
These past weeks I was convinced I had an anurism. My head was throbbing all the time and I convinced myself I had contracted the HIV virus from sharing a tissue on set. Yes, this is very unlikely. But you never know. Then I got a spoof email saying someone hacked into my account. I imagined my tiny amount of money in my checking account and the nice chunk of a balance in my credit card account slowly being drained, or increased, depending on the respective cases. I was just about to end it all, or change my identity and move to Turkey. It turns out I was just having PMS.
Mum JUST told me that after my show in October (I'm in a musical; it's going to be gear!), we should head down to New Orleans again. Last time I was there was pre-Katrina. Actually, about two months pre-Katrina. I will be able to take some brand spanking new photos because all I'm taking NOW is headshots and real estate. There is a new gallery opening nearby and I got word that they're looking for submissions. Whoot! Should I be irresponsible and take off a week and have a holiday in New Orleans? Sure.
Waiting to hear if I got a part in a new film. Tomorrow I'm filming for the webisode. Two of the commerical directors have dropped off the face of the earth. They were calling me and I tried to return their calls and now no answer. I'm up for a role in another commerical and I seriously need the money. Things could be so much worse financially. One friend of mine is still "homeless," another has severe asthma and doesn't have any insurance. There's only so much I can do to help them.
These past weeks I was convinced I had an anurism. My head was throbbing all the time and I convinced myself I had contracted the HIV virus from sharing a tissue on set. Yes, this is very unlikely. But you never know. Then I got a spoof email saying someone hacked into my account. I imagined my tiny amount of money in my checking account and the nice chunk of a balance in my credit card account slowly being drained, or increased, depending on the respective cases. I was just about to end it all, or change my identity and move to Turkey. It turns out I was just having PMS.
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Odd stuff and what happened
Aug. 29th, 2009 | 12:58 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: confused
The crappy thing about not updating in a long time is having to remember the details of all the crappy whining I've saved up till now.
I have found out that even though I made a big ass deposit earlier, I am broke again. I should be more responsible and not go get work clothes at thrift stores so often. I'm pissed because a pair of trousers I got for my birthday DO NOT FIT. They are too short. Imagine that, something too short on ME. There's no fabric to take down. So I either have to wear the trousers sagging on my hips or start walking like a drunk midget. Drunk midget...remind you of anyone??
So I'm trying to get another new job. The last film I auditioned for I didn't get the part, and I was feeling rather discouraged all week, even today when I auditioned for something else. I really hope I get it. I did a commercial the other day and was told I was scheduled to do two more this last week. I think the director died or something, because he hasn't gotten back to me.
So I have three weddings this next month to get me through a few bills, but that will only happen if my employer pays me, and you know how that goes.
I got an email from someone wanting to break into real estate photography. I think my response should be this:
Congratulations on trying to break into the lucrative world of real estate photography! You have a creative, adventurous road ahead of you! You are probably wondering the perks of this profession. First of all, you have to pay for all your equipment, most of it you will never use, and recieve about 1/3 the salary you would normally make on a regular photoshoot. To make things more superfun, if a client doesn't like a certain photo because of, say, CLOUDS in the sky, you get to do the entire order over, or photoshop the clouds away on your own time and dime. This is a very exciting career. You meet lots of people, like picky agents with OCD, suspicious home owners, children and pets who make things even more adventurous by knocking over your equipment, and EVEN COOLER, you get to visit parts of your city and see new kinds of people carrying weapons! You can pretend you are in a movie and walk into condemned buildings with gangs shouting at you! Sometimes the home isn't ready when you get there, so you get to wait while they move their clutter around while inspecting their $500k house. Your right arm gets really strong from carrying your heavy tripod up and down hills, stairs and creaky ladders, and you get to tell cool stories about the bruises you get on the job.
I hope you get a good start at this business, and I wish you the best of luck! It is rewarding, and you can just imagine yourself climbing the ladder of success!
Yeah, I think that's how it should go.
What happened at the commercial I did:
We were marketing this body sculpting thing, and we went through a few shots and one of the directors took me aside and thrust me into a super-tight corset. Now, remember that I'm a borderline anorexic and I have a BMI of almost underweight. She said I wasn't long-waisted enough. I took it in good humour, but it really made me think, afterwards, when I could breath again.
At what price do we DO this? I got a small taste of the viciousness, the manipulativeness of this sick biz. I am pretty fucking thin and it's taken me awhile to control myself into realising this. But according to them, yes, I WAS, but not thin ENOUGH.
And of course I went along with it. I sold just a little piece of my soul; it always starts with just a piece.
I have found out that even though I made a big ass deposit earlier, I am broke again. I should be more responsible and not go get work clothes at thrift stores so often. I'm pissed because a pair of trousers I got for my birthday DO NOT FIT. They are too short. Imagine that, something too short on ME. There's no fabric to take down. So I either have to wear the trousers sagging on my hips or start walking like a drunk midget. Drunk midget...remind you of anyone??
So I'm trying to get another new job. The last film I auditioned for I didn't get the part, and I was feeling rather discouraged all week, even today when I auditioned for something else. I really hope I get it. I did a commercial the other day and was told I was scheduled to do two more this last week. I think the director died or something, because he hasn't gotten back to me.
So I have three weddings this next month to get me through a few bills, but that will only happen if my employer pays me, and you know how that goes.
I got an email from someone wanting to break into real estate photography. I think my response should be this:
Congratulations on trying to break into the lucrative world of real estate photography! You have a creative, adventurous road ahead of you! You are probably wondering the perks of this profession. First of all, you have to pay for all your equipment, most of it you will never use, and recieve about 1/3 the salary you would normally make on a regular photoshoot. To make things more superfun, if a client doesn't like a certain photo because of, say, CLOUDS in the sky, you get to do the entire order over, or photoshop the clouds away on your own time and dime. This is a very exciting career. You meet lots of people, like picky agents with OCD, suspicious home owners, children and pets who make things even more adventurous by knocking over your equipment, and EVEN COOLER, you get to visit parts of your city and see new kinds of people carrying weapons! You can pretend you are in a movie and walk into condemned buildings with gangs shouting at you! Sometimes the home isn't ready when you get there, so you get to wait while they move their clutter around while inspecting their $500k house. Your right arm gets really strong from carrying your heavy tripod up and down hills, stairs and creaky ladders, and you get to tell cool stories about the bruises you get on the job.
I hope you get a good start at this business, and I wish you the best of luck! It is rewarding, and you can just imagine yourself climbing the ladder of success!
Yeah, I think that's how it should go.
What happened at the commercial I did:
We were marketing this body sculpting thing, and we went through a few shots and one of the directors took me aside and thrust me into a super-tight corset. Now, remember that I'm a borderline anorexic and I have a BMI of almost underweight. She said I wasn't long-waisted enough. I took it in good humour, but it really made me think, afterwards, when I could breath again.
At what price do we DO this? I got a small taste of the viciousness, the manipulativeness of this sick biz. I am pretty fucking thin and it's taken me awhile to control myself into realising this. But according to them, yes, I WAS, but not thin ENOUGH.
And of course I went along with it. I sold just a little piece of my soul; it always starts with just a piece.
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Num num, pock pock!
Aug. 11th, 2009 | 04:24 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: 
amused
So I get to go to a concert tonight with my friend. Yay! Not going to tell you what band, because that might give hints and ruin my secret livejournal identity. I'm happy I get to go out and have fun. It's a band I've been wanting to see for about 5 years, and they never play in the states. Everyone here is just now hearing about them.
So I'm seriously getting broke again, and I'm trying to be good, but there are just too many sales at Goodwill. I'm such an indulgent bitch. I bought a skirt to wear tonight. Four dollars, man.
Did a real estate shoot today. The home owners were nice and their house was gear. Very big, very spacious, makes me jealous about the kinds of parties I could throw. Just thinking about Peter Sellars in The Party. I wanna have a party like that. The thing is, most nice houses have so much potential. But they are usually bare, clean and boring. I think it's because the owners are so bare, clean and boring.
So I'm seriously getting broke again, and I'm trying to be good, but there are just too many sales at Goodwill. I'm such an indulgent bitch. I bought a skirt to wear tonight. Four dollars, man.
Did a real estate shoot today. The home owners were nice and their house was gear. Very big, very spacious, makes me jealous about the kinds of parties I could throw. Just thinking about Peter Sellars in The Party. I wanna have a party like that. The thing is, most nice houses have so much potential. But they are usually bare, clean and boring. I think it's because the owners are so bare, clean and boring.
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Ah, look at all the crazy people
Aug. 9th, 2009 | 11:18 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: hopeful
Okay, went for a few-day trip and it was nice. Despite the fact I went swimming and got stung repeatedly by something in the water and my wrist swelled up. I didn't go swimming again after that. All the lifeguards/first aid people were very impressed by it.
Met with that obnoxious, mothering friend of mine's "voice teacher." He's kind of a pimp. He dresses like a pimp, he acts like a pimp. He was with some chick about my age. He scarfed down all these chicken wings while we were talking. He was very touchy-feely. I'm not digging his way of doing things so far. Not to mention the fact that my friend is totally tone deaf. I'm not being mean. She really IS. She actually has a good voice, but it's never on pitch. I might just do some backup with the guy. I get very suspicious when people like that want to know about all the projects you're in, and seem really interested in what you do. I like to get hired and keep that part of my life professional until I actually get to KNOW the people.
And I should mention the fact that she wants to rent a freaking billboard (YES, BILLboard) with her (my) photo of her on it so I can "generate revenue." Oh. Lord. Now, there's being a friend. And there is BEING a FRIEND. Does this seem a little odd to you? It does me.
Thursday I shoot for a second day on a pretty effing big movie. The only hint I'll give you all is this: one of the people who was in GI JOE is in it. I've never seen GI JOE, I'm not going to see it, I don't go to the movies and I'm not impressed with "celebs." But I'm super happy this movie is going to be bigger than the stuff I've been doing lately. It's time to kiss some serious director/producer/casting director ASS. I'm good at that. At least I think I am. There's such a fine line between kissing ass the right way, and kissing ass obnoxiously.
I have huge blisters on my feet from these new shoes I got. I walked around and in about ten minutes, I couldn't walk anymore. They're nice leather and everything. I'm trying to stretch them out. Bastards. Tomorrow another real estate shoot. I HOPE I don't have to photoshop the clouds out. I mean, really? Who DOESN'T like clouds? I'll tell you: Al Quida.
Met with that obnoxious, mothering friend of mine's "voice teacher." He's kind of a pimp. He dresses like a pimp, he acts like a pimp. He was with some chick about my age. He scarfed down all these chicken wings while we were talking. He was very touchy-feely. I'm not digging his way of doing things so far. Not to mention the fact that my friend is totally tone deaf. I'm not being mean. She really IS. She actually has a good voice, but it's never on pitch. I might just do some backup with the guy. I get very suspicious when people like that want to know about all the projects you're in, and seem really interested in what you do. I like to get hired and keep that part of my life professional until I actually get to KNOW the people.
And I should mention the fact that she wants to rent a freaking billboard (YES, BILLboard) with her (my) photo of her on it so I can "generate revenue." Oh. Lord. Now, there's being a friend. And there is BEING a FRIEND. Does this seem a little odd to you? It does me.
Thursday I shoot for a second day on a pretty effing big movie. The only hint I'll give you all is this: one of the people who was in GI JOE is in it. I've never seen GI JOE, I'm not going to see it, I don't go to the movies and I'm not impressed with "celebs." But I'm super happy this movie is going to be bigger than the stuff I've been doing lately. It's time to kiss some serious director/producer/casting director ASS. I'm good at that. At least I think I am. There's such a fine line between kissing ass the right way, and kissing ass obnoxiously.
I have huge blisters on my feet from these new shoes I got. I walked around and in about ten minutes, I couldn't walk anymore. They're nice leather and everything. I'm trying to stretch them out. Bastards. Tomorrow another real estate shoot. I HOPE I don't have to photoshop the clouds out. I mean, really? Who DOESN'T like clouds? I'll tell you: Al Quida.
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Should I finish my wine?
Aug. 1st, 2009 | 10:55 pm
There's a place: living room
I got a feeling: 
listless
Okay, so that slightly annoying, slightly mothering friend of mine is asking me how to sell photos online. I'm wondering if she's thinking of selling the pictures *I* took of her. I should let her know I could sue her ass. What do you think? Do you think a "model" (which she's NOT) should get a share? Should the "model" advertise MY pictures? No. And no.
I don't know why the hell I keep getting myself into stupid situations and keep contending with difficult people. The less I interact with this girl the better. Why why why? How should I tell her? She is trying to be so helpful to me. She bought me coffee when I had about $7 in my name.
Yesterday I did a real estate shoot. The women in charge were maniacally fussy. They made me photoshop the clouds out the sky in multiple pictures. I don't get paid by the hour. People suck. It's going to be lovely when I eventually quit.
Good things: today I had a meeting with a crew about to start filming a local television show, I got cast in another film, AND I got the part in the ensemble for the musical. Time to brush up on my dancing. Oh shit.
Tomorrow I go out of town for a few. It will be nice and peaceful. I'm still seriously hung over. The funny thing is, right after I was thinking how sick and hungover I was, I thought about finishing my wine from last night. I'm turning back into a wineo. I should bring it with me tomorrow.
I don't know why the hell I keep getting myself into stupid situations and keep contending with difficult people. The less I interact with this girl the better. Why why why? How should I tell her? She is trying to be so helpful to me. She bought me coffee when I had about $7 in my name.
Yesterday I did a real estate shoot. The women in charge were maniacally fussy. They made me photoshop the clouds out the sky in multiple pictures. I don't get paid by the hour. People suck. It's going to be lovely when I eventually quit.
Good things: today I had a meeting with a crew about to start filming a local television show, I got cast in another film, AND I got the part in the ensemble for the musical. Time to brush up on my dancing. Oh shit.
Tomorrow I go out of town for a few. It will be nice and peaceful. I'm still seriously hung over. The funny thing is, right after I was thinking how sick and hungover I was, I thought about finishing my wine from last night. I'm turning back into a wineo. I should bring it with me tomorrow.
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Bitch-fest
Jul. 30th, 2009 | 01:21 am
There's a place: my desk, you punk
I got a feeling: 
crappy
So, I feel seriously grotty, mostly from being all crampy and sick. You know what is bad? In a way, I like feeling a bit sick, so I don't feel like eating. I have been getting a bit better about that. I ate some chocolate today and a cookie yesterday on a set and I don't feel all that guilty. I also don't feel so bad eating in front of people anymore, esp. eating bad things like cookies. I only felt a twinge of guilt as I scarfed down the cookie in FRONT of someone. I have been going longer in between eating, which makes me feel good and bad at the same time.
Tomorrow is an audition (hopefully) with a theatre who's in desperate need of a few ensemble people. That's where I come in. THEN another audition, one I don't really want to go to, especially since I have to drive about 45 minutes away. It was recommended by a friend of mine, that slightly annoying and slightly mothering friend of mine who's being a bit obnoxious. She is no longer allowed to go without makeup when I photograph her. I am sick as all hell airbrushing out zits. She sent me a book she wrote. I told her it was good, but it wasn't.
As long as I'm venting, I might as well come clean: there's a girl I know, an actress, but a newbie in the biz. I met her on set months ago. Nice girl, etc. But she has no experience. But she keeps getting these parts because she's tall, pretty, and has a fresh-faced-girl-next-door look. I am resentful because of this. I am resentful of ANYONE who doesn't pay their dues, who doesn't go through horribly awkward high school years and beyond with endless rehearsals with nazi-directors, stage mothers, bitching ballerinas and years and years of countless cattle-call auditions for the lame-brains who make up this city's theatre network. People who don't spend four fucking years of college music and theatre classes with four years of history, theory, dictator instructors/accompanists/orchestral cond
Don't get me wrong. I like the girl. But it's terribly unfair when people don't have to pay their dues simply because they look the part. They show up, they show some leg and they're in. People need to work their asses off, and when they don't, it bugs me.
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Sunday Bloody Sunday
Jul. 26th, 2009 | 05:50 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: irritated
So all I really did today was just sit in front of my computer. Mum is terribly pissed off at me because I didn't "re-inform her" of the film I was in playing in the theatre a few days ago. She interprets this as my attempt to alienate her from my life. I'm glad I don't take my birthday seriously, cause it's been a shitty day because of her, haha! But I absolutely REFUSE to let her dramatic, overreacting self affect me like my grandma used to. She's becoming gran to a tee. Gran used to pull shit like this all the time: "you don't love me, you don't want me in your life, etc." Mum actually said to me today, in front of a bunch of people when she found out, "you really couldn't have done anything worse." Which was so ridiculous, it didn't deserve a retort. I think, well, unplanned pregancy, hitting a pedestrian, jail, manslaughter...I'm glad she walked away in a huff so I could laugh without getting in trouble.
For God's sake, I'm 28. I think it's just like that when someone's an only child. I'm her entire life. I can understand that, but she is THE QUEEN of overreacting and drama. Silly mum. She's been crying all day, slamming doors and yelling. I told everyone I wasn't feeling so well just so I wouldn't have to contend with her, not like I had anything planned anyway. I refuse to be manipulated. Although, she HAS manipulated me and is doing so as we speak. Or as I type, rather.
And so it's high time I moved out permanently.
Incidently, how much is too much when it comes to story twists? I'm awfully fond of them. My neighbour gave me some fruit. She's going to Cape Cod. It's time to take a walk and get some jawbreakers hurled at me.
For God's sake, I'm 28. I think it's just like that when someone's an only child. I'm her entire life. I can understand that, but she is THE QUEEN of overreacting and drama. Silly mum. She's been crying all day, slamming doors and yelling. I told everyone I wasn't feeling so well just so I wouldn't have to contend with her, not like I had anything planned anyway. I refuse to be manipulated. Although, she HAS manipulated me and is doing so as we speak. Or as I type, rather.
And so it's high time I moved out permanently.
Incidently, how much is too much when it comes to story twists? I'm awfully fond of them. My neighbour gave me some fruit. She's going to Cape Cod. It's time to take a walk and get some jawbreakers hurled at me.
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Last night was *not* an Oscar party
Jul. 24th, 2009 | 01:47 pm
There's a place: cafe
I got a feeling: amused
So last night I went to the filmmaker's party and everyone got shitfaced. I logged into facebook and saw the standard "sorry, I was drunk" messages. I thought I would know more people, but instead I met some new people, one of which I stumped throughout the night with useless Beatles trivia, an old guy who kept trying to get me to go home with him (when I said I want to meet someone a little older, I meant someone like Craig and not a guy who looks like my grandpa), a guy who was toasted off his ass who is in a pretty big movie here, who insisted we be a power couple for the rest of the night. I suggested we'd emulate Ivana and Donald Trump. I ended up walking with him and his friend all over town after I consumed a glass of straight vodka (he was buying people drinks all night) and just got slightly buzzed. Does this make sense? How come vodka doesn't get me drunker? It was an effing fun night.
I made my way back to my car a little sloshed, just a bit, while the cops watched me drive away (I managed to walk fairly steady, amazingly so, because I was wearing heels), and back to the house where I'm sitting for. I hit my head on the car door, almost fell in the lawn across the street, got stuck in the mud in the driveway they're repaving, and was almost attacked by the dog who smelled the vodka and probably wanted some himself.
Oh, must tell you about one of the obnoxious girls I'm 'friends' with. She knows everyone in the acting industry here, but she's not involved herself. She is very interested in photography, and she'll say soemthing on the grounds of 'teach me about taking photos,' like I can explain the fundamentals of photography in a half hour. Last night she came up and swooned over the drunk ass guy, saying how wonderful he was in the "big" movie he was in and proceeded to get autographs from everyone in the room, who were all too trashed to even understand what was going on. The girl is weird. This girl leaves comments on your facebook wall that look like this:
"Ohmygod, you are in a movie again?? What movie it is? Is so and so in it? I know him! What are you doing? Where are you going? Who is going with you? What time are you going? Are you still going to teach me about photography? I suck at it! Ohmygod! Message me about it! Thank you! I know we're going to be best friends forever!!! OMGWTFBBQ!"
And so on. She is the kind of friend I try to keep at arm's length. I was just staring at her in my slight vodka-y haze while she went around the room star struck (you would think she was at the bleeding oscars), just drooling and exclaiming. I think I laughed at her. She's in her thirties.
I guess I'm pretty intolerant, which sucks cause I hate intolerance and people who are judgemental and nosy. It's just so easy to become tiresome and exhausted.
I cannot hack into the internet at the house I'm sitting for, so I'm in a cafe, using my two-hour parking time wisely.
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"I would never want to belong to a club that would have someone like me for a member."
Jul. 23rd, 2009 | 02:49 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: 
hyper
So I had a dream last night that I got a huge studio loft. You know what's weird? Every single time my parents are in my dream, we're always fighting, and they're always being really terrible and horrible, and that's not how it is in real life, but always in my dreams. Weird.
Today I go off to house/pet-sit (not for the woman whose chair I thought I ruined), but for someone else, and then I have to drive all the way back into the city and past to make an audition for this cafe, and then back downtown to this festival afterparty with some local filmmakers who made the movies I was in that played this week possible.
I'm about to get new headshots, and a photographer friend (not the one I flirt/makeout with), is going to take some new ones. She told me my look is seriously typecasting me, and that I look like a brit rocker, and I need to generalise my look a bit more. I have to agree with this, and I'm going to miss my look with my supershort black fringe, but that's what needs to be done. Nothing wrong with change. She says I can stay edgy, but not go so harsh. I can get away with it if I were in a band, or back in the UK or Europe, or as an artist/photographer, but trying to get hired for films and such...maybe that's why I keep getting cast in slashers/cults.
I've been watching way too much Woody Allen and haunted town clips on youtube, because the weather is so fall-ish. It's so nice and cool here.
Finally paid that last bit of my med bills from back in December. Feels nice to pay something off. If I ever become rich, or win the lottery, I wonder if I would pay off my student loan in one go, just so I wouldn't have the burden any longer.
I wish the people I'm housesitting for had a pool. A convict escaped yesterday in my neighbourhood, and that really put a damper on my powerwalking schedule. And I'm starting to miss my grandma a lot. This cool weather is really bringing back memories of last year; just getting whiffs of something in the air, remembering back last year when all that was going down.
Today I go off to house/pet-sit (not for the woman whose chair I thought I ruined), but for someone else, and then I have to drive all the way back into the city and past to make an audition for this cafe, and then back downtown to this festival afterparty with some local filmmakers who made the movies I was in that played this week possible.
I'm about to get new headshots, and a photographer friend (not the one I flirt/makeout with), is going to take some new ones. She told me my look is seriously typecasting me, and that I look like a brit rocker, and I need to generalise my look a bit more. I have to agree with this, and I'm going to miss my look with my supershort black fringe, but that's what needs to be done. Nothing wrong with change. She says I can stay edgy, but not go so harsh. I can get away with it if I were in a band, or back in the UK or Europe, or as an artist/photographer, but trying to get hired for films and such...maybe that's why I keep getting cast in slashers/cults.
I've been watching way too much Woody Allen and haunted town clips on youtube, because the weather is so fall-ish. It's so nice and cool here.
Finally paid that last bit of my med bills from back in December. Feels nice to pay something off. If I ever become rich, or win the lottery, I wonder if I would pay off my student loan in one go, just so I wouldn't have the burden any longer.
I wish the people I'm housesitting for had a pool. A convict escaped yesterday in my neighbourhood, and that really put a damper on my powerwalking schedule. And I'm starting to miss my grandma a lot. This cool weather is really bringing back memories of last year; just getting whiffs of something in the air, remembering back last year when all that was going down.
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Only the space in the palm of your hand can be more perfect
Jul. 19th, 2009 | 11:36 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: thoughtful
LP at the moment: Hannah and Her Sisters Soundtrack
I'm sitting here at my desk listening to mum on the phone with her friend, scheming to set these two people up. Why'd I move back in? Oh yeah, I don't have money. Right.
So, my friend who is about to get her Masters at Westminster is going to live centrally, which means rent on par with New York City. I need to get some serious funds. I would rather just rent up north. Today while powerwalking (do not know if it did any good, because I just HAD to eat a few of those effing fig bars, stupid me), I saw some lottery tickets on the ground. They were all marked up, but I have a sneaking feeling I should've brought them with me and made them feel at home, taken them in. You never know.
What did we learn today, kiddies? Well, I learned not to jump on a trampoline if you need to pee. No, I did not piss myself, but I almost did. Life lesson, my friends. What else? Hmm, I learned that this makes me have rather dirty thoughts.
Oh, I also learned that I really hate it when people leave a voice message on my phone and do not say who they are, and their phone number isn't in my phone, and they act as if they are my best friend and I know I don't have a best friend, and all day long I'm wondering who it was, because I don't want to call the number and find out it's someone really obnoxious. The fact that the person was NOT in my phone, but acting like she was my best friend indicates that she IS someone I don't want to talk to. Right?
Tomorrow a film I'm in is playing at the theatre and another one on tuesday. As of this moment, I am in between films. Which makes me nervous and fidgety like the workaholic I am. My friend today suggested that I have issues with money. I agreed. She proceeded to feed me vegemite. Hurl.
So, my friend who is about to get her Masters at Westminster is going to live centrally, which means rent on par with New York City. I need to get some serious funds. I would rather just rent up north. Today while powerwalking (do not know if it did any good, because I just HAD to eat a few of those effing fig bars, stupid me), I saw some lottery tickets on the ground. They were all marked up, but I have a sneaking feeling I should've brought them with me and made them feel at home, taken them in. You never know.
What did we learn today, kiddies? Well, I learned not to jump on a trampoline if you need to pee. No, I did not piss myself, but I almost did. Life lesson, my friends. What else? Hmm, I learned that this makes me have rather dirty thoughts.
Oh, I also learned that I really hate it when people leave a voice message on my phone and do not say who they are, and their phone number isn't in my phone, and they act as if they are my best friend and I know I don't have a best friend, and all day long I'm wondering who it was, because I don't want to call the number and find out it's someone really obnoxious. The fact that the person was NOT in my phone, but acting like she was my best friend indicates that she IS someone I don't want to talk to. Right?
Tomorrow a film I'm in is playing at the theatre and another one on tuesday. As of this moment, I am in between films. Which makes me nervous and fidgety like the workaholic I am. My friend today suggested that I have issues with money. I agreed. She proceeded to feed me vegemite. Hurl.
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In need of drinky, thy name is Astrid
Jul. 18th, 2009 | 03:34 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: annoyed
So this has been a busy week. I filmed for the webisode thing, the night before we filmed the slasher, where I got to die by getting my heart ripped out. Rather messy, all good fun. I stilll have sticky corn syrup in my car. It's a bitch when it gets everywhere. I am really looking forward to doing some real films sometime. I'm rather tired of zombie/splatter films. Especially when the director doesn't even say "rolling" when he's ready to film. Where is Martin Scorsese???
Speaking of which...today I was called to do a film I emailed about, only to get there and realise it was all highschoolers. I was hoping for Martin to show up. I think he's busy in L.A. and couldn't come...
I almost signed up with a new agency. Except that the agency has fees. And rule #1: never go with an agency that makes you pay. Even though the said agencies seem able to give you more work than the free agency you are already a PART of...I almost got in a jam, because I technically signed the contract. I was scared she was going to hold me to that. I'm stupid that way. People put a contract in front on me and I just automatically sign. Like those infomercials. Could be advertising the stupidest product ever and I'd want one.
About to do a photoshoot for my friend. She has recently submitted a book of photos I took of her to a contest, only for both of us to discover the venue we took the shots in makes you pay a $500 commercial fee. She's paying it. Mum told me not to feel guilty. I didn't even want to enter the photos in the contest. How come I still feel guilty?
There's a scene in Hannah and Her Sisters where the old guy, rhe curmudgeon and boyfriend to Barbra Hershy says to her, "I'm at a point in my life where I just can't be around people." Why must I constantly be in a Woody Allen movie?
I'm still trying to write every day. I can't write anything simple. Everything has to turn into a commentary on social issues, cultural stereotypes, religion and general allegory/metaphor.
A friend of mine is going back to London in October. She wants me to come and be her flatmate. I need some major cabbage to make this do-able.
And guess who got the snotty end of the phone line when I had to call a client who was pissed off because no one got back to her about a shoot she needed....a shoot that should've been given to ME by MY employer who doesn't check his sodding WEBSITE to see new ORDERS. Yup.
Speaking of which...today I was called to do a film I emailed about, only to get there and realise it was all highschoolers. I was hoping for Martin to show up. I think he's busy in L.A. and couldn't come...
I almost signed up with a new agency. Except that the agency has fees. And rule #1: never go with an agency that makes you pay. Even though the said agencies seem able to give you more work than the free agency you are already a PART of...I almost got in a jam, because I technically signed the contract. I was scared she was going to hold me to that. I'm stupid that way. People put a contract in front on me and I just automatically sign. Like those infomercials. Could be advertising the stupidest product ever and I'd want one.
About to do a photoshoot for my friend. She has recently submitted a book of photos I took of her to a contest, only for both of us to discover the venue we took the shots in makes you pay a $500 commercial fee. She's paying it. Mum told me not to feel guilty. I didn't even want to enter the photos in the contest. How come I still feel guilty?
There's a scene in Hannah and Her Sisters where the old guy, rhe curmudgeon and boyfriend to Barbra Hershy says to her, "I'm at a point in my life where I just can't be around people." Why must I constantly be in a Woody Allen movie?
I'm still trying to write every day. I can't write anything simple. Everything has to turn into a commentary on social issues, cultural stereotypes, religion and general allegory/metaphor.
A friend of mine is going back to London in October. She wants me to come and be her flatmate. I need some major cabbage to make this do-able.
And guess who got the snotty end of the phone line when I had to call a client who was pissed off because no one got back to her about a shoot she needed....a shoot that should've been given to ME by MY employer who doesn't check his sodding WEBSITE to see new ORDERS. Yup.
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Who are the freaky in your neighbourhood?
Jul. 1st, 2009 | 06:37 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: amused
When I powerwalk the neighbourhood, I see a lot of weird shit. I do not live in the most respectable part of town. Down the street is the prostitute, and next to her, the people with the meth lab. Across the street lives the family whose daughter (a friend of mine) yesterday was commited.
I walk down the main road; one house belongs to a former child-sex-offender. Down from him is the man with the little dog who yaps at me constantly. I get to the end of the street to the house that's condemned; the children who used to live it often peed in the yard. I turn the corner and there is the family who's always out on their porch. Yesterday one of them threw jawbreakers at me. I pass the house with the toilet seat in the yard, I pass the park where the cops are usually patroling, which has a history of being used to conduct black masses during the Halloween season, across the street is a couple who is always yelling out in their yard (the other day, the cops were called). I make a left, then another, go past the house with the huge, fake, makeshift black horse strung with christmas lights. I turn the corner, making a right, and I go back towards my house where I have seen, twice, the lady who used to have no face, but now has the face of a demon. If the kids at the house on the corner do not harass me, I walk straight home. I am not making any of this up.
My neighbourhood is a freak show.
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Frightening encounters whilst powerwalking, part 2
Jun. 29th, 2009 | 11:47 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: 
anxious
LP at the moment: Coldplay-Parachutes
I should be learning my lines for Wednesday, but oh well.
I actually got PAID. Comes at a good time, cause I got a notice from a collection agency today because of these stupid medical bills from those tests I did last December. Jeeze.
A few days ago I posted about the girl without a face. Well, she has one now. This is the frightening story:
Powerwalking as usual, a few days ago I was in the very same place where I'd seen her before. I was walking towards my house, the sun facing me, so it was in my eyes. I saw this figure walking towards me, and the closer we got to each other, I could see her features better. I saw the scrawny arms and legs, and the shoulder-length hair. I didn't see her face right away, and I KNEW it was her, and I KNEW I was going to come face to face with her, and FINALLY see her face after wondering about it for so long, after TELLING people how weird the encounter was.
I started shaking as I approached her, her clothes were still hanging on her. I casually went over to the other side of the street and I saw her face. As soon as I saw it, it took everything I had not to run.
She had a twisted, little old lady face that was grinning at me. She had her head cocked and her scrawny little arms were held in front of her in a impish way. She looked like a corpse, or someone who hadn't eaten anything in about 6 months.
"Hello," she croaked. "How are YOU?" Creepy grin.
I just nodded and smiled, and I said, "Hello, I'm fine." And then she looked as if she wanted me to stop so she could tell me more, but I passed her because I was going to have a coranary.
As soon as I passed, I started hyperventalating and experienced a general freak-out. The impish, creepy way she was bent over, holding her arms, her creepy little face twisted...and she had finally addressed me when before she had INTENTIONALLY kept her face hidden. Maybe I'm overrreacting. But I sense when something is weird. This was definitely something weird. Now I keep thinking she might know where I live now, and she might show up at my window or something. Yes, I have a big imagination.
Tomorrow I might just get to attend a writer's guild. Maybe all the freaky stuff I go through is great fodder for my novels.
I actually got PAID. Comes at a good time, cause I got a notice from a collection agency today because of these stupid medical bills from those tests I did last December. Jeeze.
A few days ago I posted about the girl without a face. Well, she has one now. This is the frightening story:
Powerwalking as usual, a few days ago I was in the very same place where I'd seen her before. I was walking towards my house, the sun facing me, so it was in my eyes. I saw this figure walking towards me, and the closer we got to each other, I could see her features better. I saw the scrawny arms and legs, and the shoulder-length hair. I didn't see her face right away, and I KNEW it was her, and I KNEW I was going to come face to face with her, and FINALLY see her face after wondering about it for so long, after TELLING people how weird the encounter was.
I started shaking as I approached her, her clothes were still hanging on her. I casually went over to the other side of the street and I saw her face. As soon as I saw it, it took everything I had not to run.
She had a twisted, little old lady face that was grinning at me. She had her head cocked and her scrawny little arms were held in front of her in a impish way. She looked like a corpse, or someone who hadn't eaten anything in about 6 months.
"Hello," she croaked. "How are YOU?" Creepy grin.
I just nodded and smiled, and I said, "Hello, I'm fine." And then she looked as if she wanted me to stop so she could tell me more, but I passed her because I was going to have a coranary.
As soon as I passed, I started hyperventalating and experienced a general freak-out. The impish, creepy way she was bent over, holding her arms, her creepy little face twisted...and she had finally addressed me when before she had INTENTIONALLY kept her face hidden. Maybe I'm overrreacting. But I sense when something is weird. This was definitely something weird. Now I keep thinking she might know where I live now, and she might show up at my window or something. Yes, I have a big imagination.
Tomorrow I might just get to attend a writer's guild. Maybe all the freaky stuff I go through is great fodder for my novels.
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Do not go powerwalking, for fear of scrawny girls
Jun. 23rd, 2009 | 12:39 pm
There's a place: my DESK, people!
I got a feeling: artistic
LP at the moment: Celtic
So I've been cast in the webisode thingy. I play a Brooklyn chick (they probably think my black hair is real). This is good. Work is good.
My employer calls me this past weekend: "I bet you're mad at me, hope it hasn't been too much on an inconvenience, blah blah blah." No, just that I've been poorer than fuck. Maybe his cheque will come today. Should we hold our breath, my friends?....NAH!
Anyroad, let me tell you about something strange that's happened about a month ago
I was powerwalking around my neighbourhood and I turned into the street going back towards my house. A girl was walking ahead of me, and because I was powerwalking, I got nearer and nearer to her. She was really thin, her clothes were just hanging on her, and she had this fluffy brown hair. I couldn't tell from behind if she was older or a teenager.
I crossed to the other side and I kept turning back to see if she was old or young, just casually...and I couldn't see her face. She had her head turned just slightly so that I couldn't see her face, and her hair was obstructing any glimpse I could've gotten. I kept turning back, over and over, and she finally turned into the next street, her head still deliberately turned just so. I got chills and I knew there was something very weird about the whole thing.
Stuff like this happens to me all the time. I told my mum and she thought the girl had been a ghost. My mum's side of the family are very sensitive to the supernatural. I don't know if the girl was a ghost, or if she was pissed I'd been staring at her...but the WAY she had turned her head was a very strange way of doing so. I mean, if you want to avoid eye contact, you could keep your head down, or she might've quickly looked up, and then jerked her head to the side...the fluid movement and deliberate and constant turning, and the fact that I NEVER saw a nose, a cheek, a glimpse of anything...is very strange.
It is all probably just a coincidence.
I cleaned all the space off my desk so I can now use my laptop there instead of ruining my already-sucky posture by typing on my bed, and I have a place to write now. I have set aside my current novel and started a new one, just as frustratingly difficult to plow through. I think my biggest challenges are focusing, not getting ahead of myself and keeping patient with my pace. The more I read advice from other writers, publishers, what-have-you, the more I recognise my bad habits and I can figure out how to fix them.
Last night I did a shoot with a friend. I hate it when people want photos and they're okay, kind of overweight, and they wear tank tops or halter tops, and I just want to tell them, for photos, it's not going to look as flattering as you think.
It's time to get another job. Oh yeah, and another cup of coffee...
Oh yeah, and I hate it when chicks call their boobs "my girls." I mean...yuck. Last time I checked, boobs don't have vaginas. Body parts DO NOT have gender.
My employer calls me this past weekend: "I bet you're mad at me, hope it hasn't been too much on an inconvenience, blah blah blah." No, just that I've been poorer than fuck. Maybe his cheque will come today. Should we hold our breath, my friends?....NAH!
Anyroad, let me tell you about something strange that's happened about a month ago
I was powerwalking around my neighbourhood and I turned into the street going back towards my house. A girl was walking ahead of me, and because I was powerwalking, I got nearer and nearer to her. She was really thin, her clothes were just hanging on her, and she had this fluffy brown hair. I couldn't tell from behind if she was older or a teenager.
I crossed to the other side and I kept turning back to see if she was old or young, just casually...and I couldn't see her face. She had her head turned just slightly so that I couldn't see her face, and her hair was obstructing any glimpse I could've gotten. I kept turning back, over and over, and she finally turned into the next street, her head still deliberately turned just so. I got chills and I knew there was something very weird about the whole thing.
Stuff like this happens to me all the time. I told my mum and she thought the girl had been a ghost. My mum's side of the family are very sensitive to the supernatural. I don't know if the girl was a ghost, or if she was pissed I'd been staring at her...but the WAY she had turned her head was a very strange way of doing so. I mean, if you want to avoid eye contact, you could keep your head down, or she might've quickly looked up, and then jerked her head to the side...the fluid movement and deliberate and constant turning, and the fact that I NEVER saw a nose, a cheek, a glimpse of anything...is very strange.
It is all probably just a coincidence.
I cleaned all the space off my desk so I can now use my laptop there instead of ruining my already-sucky posture by typing on my bed, and I have a place to write now. I have set aside my current novel and started a new one, just as frustratingly difficult to plow through. I think my biggest challenges are focusing, not getting ahead of myself and keeping patient with my pace. The more I read advice from other writers, publishers, what-have-you, the more I recognise my bad habits and I can figure out how to fix them.
Last night I did a shoot with a friend. I hate it when people want photos and they're okay, kind of overweight, and they wear tank tops or halter tops, and I just want to tell them, for photos, it's not going to look as flattering as you think.
It's time to get another job. Oh yeah, and another cup of coffee...
Oh yeah, and I hate it when chicks call their boobs "my girls." I mean...yuck. Last time I checked, boobs don't have vaginas. Body parts DO NOT have gender.
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Kids keep me up late
Jun. 17th, 2009 | 04:12 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: 
worried
LP at the moment: Supernature-Goldfrapp
Okay, so yesterday I had a go-see for lunch (their idea, and I'm thinking...food. Never a good thing). So we meet at a rather nice place and I'm wondering how I can get away with not eating anything. Good thing there was a salad and veggie burger on the menu and I don't try to think about the price.
They are directing and already filming a webisode. The concept is really funny and promising. They have a couple parts to fill. But alas, they really don't see me really filling those parts. They ask me about the parts I have played before. Inwardly I groan, because I've played every kind under the sun. I have a wide variety of likes and my genre-preference is very eclectic. I tell them this. So they thrust upon me at that second the task of coming up with my own character(s) that might fit in.
I make a pretty futile attempt and then comes our food. The main director doesn't like my idea.
Cue awkward silence. Accompanied by chewing. I think they become engrossed in the conversation of the people next to us.
I immedietely realise that I'm quickly losing control over my audition and I'd better start impressing and pulling something out of my ass and pronto. So I launch into a conversation involving different over-the-top accents: cockney, scouse, Brooklyn, etc and make up character to go with each of them. I pretty much start plagerising everything from the BBC, and they don't quite realise it. But they like it and now I have to email them a bunch of different characters/backstories to give them something to work with so they can write something for me.
No biggie. I'm just used to taking direction from directors. If I had had more of a headsup about what they wanted, I could have written something better before the go-see. Maybe this is the kind of improv-artistic op that I've been waiting for.
Weirdly enough that night is my attendace to the improv thing downtown that I'm now a part of. After that, I had a meeting with a different director who's doing that slasher I'm in this month. He wants me to do some camera work behind the scenes, with video, too. I tell him I've never done video, but I'm a fast learner. He had suggested we'd meet to discuss all this.
Cue meeting: 10 pm, I'm tired, long day. I get there and he suggests we go to McDonalds. Okay...
I basically spend an hour's meeting watching him eat a cheeseburger and fries, talking about pretty much nothing. I try to get him involved in a conversation about what he wants me to do with my camera work. I thought that this was what the meeting was about. I think he was just lonely. By the way...
He's about 29 but dresses like he's about 17. Don't get me wrong, I love jeans and rocker tees. But the guy looked 17. And acts 17, too. The script is written very "let's make out and say 'fuck' every three seconds." The whole time I'm thinking, damn. I know this sounds bitchy, but I feel like I'm old. And everyone my age around me is still 17. I don't know. Yes, it's bitchy. I would never say it to them. But I can bitch about it here.
So, so far the only thing I'm involved with right now that actually looks promising is the webisode. They paid my bill and seemed to like my impression of Jane Horrocks, which wasn't that much of an impression, but don't tell them that.
They are directing and already filming a webisode. The concept is really funny and promising. They have a couple parts to fill. But alas, they really don't see me really filling those parts. They ask me about the parts I have played before. Inwardly I groan, because I've played every kind under the sun. I have a wide variety of likes and my genre-preference is very eclectic. I tell them this. So they thrust upon me at that second the task of coming up with my own character(s) that might fit in.
I make a pretty futile attempt and then comes our food. The main director doesn't like my idea.
Cue awkward silence. Accompanied by chewing. I think they become engrossed in the conversation of the people next to us.
I immedietely realise that I'm quickly losing control over my audition and I'd better start impressing and pulling something out of my ass and pronto. So I launch into a conversation involving different over-the-top accents: cockney, scouse, Brooklyn, etc and make up character to go with each of them. I pretty much start plagerising everything from the BBC, and they don't quite realise it. But they like it and now I have to email them a bunch of different characters/backstories to give them something to work with so they can write something for me.
No biggie. I'm just used to taking direction from directors. If I had had more of a headsup about what they wanted, I could have written something better before the go-see. Maybe this is the kind of improv-artistic op that I've been waiting for.
Weirdly enough that night is my attendace to the improv thing downtown that I'm now a part of. After that, I had a meeting with a different director who's doing that slasher I'm in this month. He wants me to do some camera work behind the scenes, with video, too. I tell him I've never done video, but I'm a fast learner. He had suggested we'd meet to discuss all this.
Cue meeting: 10 pm, I'm tired, long day. I get there and he suggests we go to McDonalds. Okay...
I basically spend an hour's meeting watching him eat a cheeseburger and fries, talking about pretty much nothing. I try to get him involved in a conversation about what he wants me to do with my camera work. I thought that this was what the meeting was about. I think he was just lonely. By the way...
He's about 29 but dresses like he's about 17. Don't get me wrong, I love jeans and rocker tees. But the guy looked 17. And acts 17, too. The script is written very "let's make out and say 'fuck' every three seconds." The whole time I'm thinking, damn. I know this sounds bitchy, but I feel like I'm old. And everyone my age around me is still 17. I don't know. Yes, it's bitchy. I would never say it to them. But I can bitch about it here.
So, so far the only thing I'm involved with right now that actually looks promising is the webisode. They paid my bill and seemed to like my impression of Jane Horrocks, which wasn't that much of an impression, but don't tell them that.