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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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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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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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"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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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.
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Too tired to bitch properly
Jun. 5th, 2009 | 02:00 am
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: tired
So, it's very late and I got up at 6am and I'm still up at 2am. Tomorrow at 10pm I will be "on call" for the filming on saturday. I'm also going to be "on call" for the OTHER film going on this weekend...so if I'm not doing one of them, I'll be doing the other. Today I went down to the agency that is now representing me. I'm having a really good feeling about them. At first, I thought they were just stringing me along, leaving me high and dry, but a lot of local talents use them, and some nationally. They were really helpful, and I'm excited. I got the script for this other film I'm doing this month and managed to convince the director to give me a really gross death scene. It IS a slasher, after all.
Just logged off of facebook after having a very nice pervy conversation with the photographer friend of mine, whom I slightly fancy and drinks too much. He is SUCH a perv. It's awesome. I'm going over to his place this next week. He thinks we're going to shag. Poor lad, poor lad.
Anyroad, I hate the wine I'm drinking. I'd get up to see what kind it was so I could warn you all never to buy it, but I'm too damn tired.
I really need to be paid.
I JUST realised I do not have a 'sex' entry tag. Oh, man.
Just logged off of facebook after having a very nice pervy conversation with the photographer friend of mine, whom I slightly fancy and drinks too much. He is SUCH a perv. It's awesome. I'm going over to his place this next week. He thinks we're going to shag. Poor lad, poor lad.
Anyroad, I hate the wine I'm drinking. I'd get up to see what kind it was so I could warn you all never to buy it, but I'm too damn tired.
I really need to be paid.
I JUST realised I do not have a 'sex' entry tag. Oh, man.
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I'm going to have to kill some people
Jun. 3rd, 2009 | 01:42 pm
There's a place: my bed, tosser
I got a feeling: 
bitchy
Okay, so we're back at square one again, and the cycle just goes round and round. Waiting for yet another paycheck from my employer, who owes me for 17 photoshoots and two wedding shoots. I shot him an email today. I'm starting to no longer feel bad about having to remind people to pay me. I'm growing balls, people. And they get bigger every day.
My car was in the shop today so I have to go to the audition I had planned today tomorrow instead. This weekend will hopefully be full of shooting for a film, directed by someone I have already worked with, so my chances are good; just waiting for the "you're in" call...
My car was in the shop today so I have to go to the audition I had planned today tomorrow instead. This weekend will hopefully be full of shooting for a film, directed by someone I have already worked with, so my chances are good; just waiting for the "you're in" call...
Tomorrow: looking over the kinky script of yet another slasher I'm in this month, where every page of script is strewn with makeout scenes, trying to makeout with someone scenes, and full-out, slasher-goodness sex scenes that result in the sex-ees dying because they HAD sex. Those are the rules, by the way. No, I'm not in any sex scenes, but I have a feeling my character is implied as participating in such activities. I don't mind being slashed in a movie, not at all. I am now completely convinced that my career will result in me becoming the next great B-movie, cult-classic queen. This makes me feel a mixture of pride and kink.
It'll just be a matter of time before I'll be calling up Richard O'Brian and John Waters.
I was SUPPOSED to get more headshots done, but the photographer (who had, at the time I was trying to make it as a photographer, kicked my ass and told me how it was, giving me enough balls-which I had NOT at the time-to even TRY) hasn't called me back. She's a famous, local photographer whom most people do not like because of her blunt honesty and her kick-your-ass competitive approach. Which is why I love her.
So a friend of mine is going to be homeless. The whole situation is very sad. He has a few ideas that actually involve me renting a studio space and splitting the cost. Mixed feeling about this.
I don't like not having a car.
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Some very weird crap
May. 19th, 2009 | 05:12 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: 
amused
When you're in the entertainment business, you're bound to see some weird shit.
This last weekend, an actor friend of mine gave me a contact with this guy who's directing a movie.
Right away, I find out this director is the most pompous, narcisstic self-indulgent person I've ever talked to. Beyond rude, goes beyond just taking the piss. He won't let you off the phone, for he loves talking about himself so much. Oh well, I think. I'll play the part anyway...
So me and my actor friend head out to his place today, about 40 minutes away for the go-see, and we walk into the scuzziest, dirtiest barbershop. Surrounding us are these decapitated manniquins with fake blood, custumes, skulls, dolls, etc. No biggie, seen 'em before...
The guy is about 500 pounds with three rings in his nose, covered in tattoos, wifebeater on. Eh, seen it, no biggie...he hands us the scripts, hand-written on looseleaf paper. The script is nothing but shock-value diolouge with a few hundred racist terms. The paper is dirty, with, I am NOT kidding, some red smears.
He proceeds to tell us all about himself, how he thinks his movie is going to the greatest thing ever, even though he's never done a movie before, and what he hates and likes about society, people and films. He tells us how he stabbed his friend in the leg when the friend said a cliche, which he hates, and brings out this knife which he waves in our faces. Throughout this time, these young girls are coming in and out, kissing him, he's painting their toenails and rolling joints. He mentions he does some other things on the side besides cutting hair and stabbing people. Me and my friend are looking at each other like this is a comedy, trying not to laugh our asses off, while I'm looking at the door, wanting more than anything to bolt before he kills us.
No, I'm not doing the movie. I didn't want to tell him that there, or else he might've decided to use his threeblades or the spikes on chains which he demonstrated earlier.
I want to take a shower.
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My carbon footprints are massive
Apr. 30th, 2009 | 02:47 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: 
sleepy
My shoot today was cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances not on my part, which was fine with me. Still getting over my cold.
So I'm warding off the piggy flu by upping my dosage of ester-C and my kyolic aged garlic and dophilus capsules. I'm not too worried about ME, but if I get it and I give it to mum, her health is so bad she won't survive it, most likely.
Against my better judgement, I will drive 20 minutes to go buy a notebook. I have other notebooks, but I don't like them. Please forgive me and this irresponsible strain on the ecosystem, farting out exaust instead of just using one of the notebooks I already have. Well, I also plan on popping into the thrift store. I am in dire need of more summer clothes and another throw-everything-into-it bag now that my bowling bag is kaput.
Tomorrow is an audition for a talent agency, but I'm not sure I will go because I do not have a monolouge prepared. I hate monolouges. I could dig a few up from my high school days, but that's unlikely. Most of my adolescent days have been psychologically blocked out, so the chances of remembering anything are very slim. I would be stupid NOT to audition, though.
On a lovely note, I made the cast for the feature I just auditioned for. I think they liked my brill red lipstick. Or at least they were scared of it. I am very convinced red lipstick is a control mechanism.
I am supposed to go to a networking thingy tonight, but my gas is low (I know what you're thinking, just DON'T go get a notebook!) and I don't really want to expose myself. One case of the piggy flu was found in my area, and during the shoot sunday I was exposed to a bunch of people out of town. I know it's very unlikely, but I keep thinking about the book The Stand. I only read about halfway through and I convinced myself I had the disease.
So I'm warding off the piggy flu by upping my dosage of ester-C and my kyolic aged garlic and dophilus capsules. I'm not too worried about ME, but if I get it and I give it to mum, her health is so bad she won't survive it, most likely.
Against my better judgement, I will drive 20 minutes to go buy a notebook. I have other notebooks, but I don't like them. Please forgive me and this irresponsible strain on the ecosystem, farting out exaust instead of just using one of the notebooks I already have. Well, I also plan on popping into the thrift store. I am in dire need of more summer clothes and another throw-everything-into-it bag now that my bowling bag is kaput.
Tomorrow is an audition for a talent agency, but I'm not sure I will go because I do not have a monolouge prepared. I hate monolouges. I could dig a few up from my high school days, but that's unlikely. Most of my adolescent days have been psychologically blocked out, so the chances of remembering anything are very slim. I would be stupid NOT to audition, though.
On a lovely note, I made the cast for the feature I just auditioned for. I think they liked my brill red lipstick. Or at least they were scared of it. I am very convinced red lipstick is a control mechanism.
I am supposed to go to a networking thingy tonight, but my gas is low (I know what you're thinking, just DON'T go get a notebook!) and I don't really want to expose myself. One case of the piggy flu was found in my area, and during the shoot sunday I was exposed to a bunch of people out of town. I know it's very unlikely, but I keep thinking about the book The Stand. I only read about halfway through and I convinced myself I had the disease.
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Yesterday...and today
Apr. 26th, 2009 | 08:24 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: sick
Okay, so yesterday was the first wedding I shot of the year. Yadayadayada. So the ceremony is doing it's thing, and I'm standing there by this table with all these glasses, taking pictures of the alter, and my elbow bumps one of the glasses and I hear it wobble. I turn around to straighten it and I knock one of the other glasses off the damn table and it breaks, right in the middle of the quiet ceremony. I hear a couple people gasp and other people turned to see what the noise was, and I just stood there like it never happened, trying not to laugh. Yeah. So I broke a glass. I am so destructive. I said it before and I say it now. During the reception the mother of the bride comes over and tells me it's okay, it was just an accident, HOWEVER, it was the ONLY fucking glass on the table that was worth anything, it was handmade, blahblahblah. So I have to pay for it, which will be according to her, around $50. It could've been worse, it could've been $5,000...I just don't have a cent to spare. It's just my effing luck.
So today I did the audition and it went well, and then I headed over to the park where all this earth day stuff was going on. I let myself go wild and actually got FOOD (a veggie burger and some veggie chilli, good for me to be at the only event all year where they'll accomodate vegetarians). Walked around a lot and got my stress level tested by a dianetics guy. He said mine was around the middle, and this was during a peaceful day.
After THAT, I headed up the hill to where we were meeting as a "bridal party" for a photographer who hired us so he can build a portfolio. I saw a few people I've met on sets, and nobody noticed my slightly stained, very wrinkly dress. I got sunburned AND I'm coming down with dad's cold. AND I had forgotten my phone at home this morning so I had to be without it ALL DAY LONG. I know. When I don't have my phone on me my world ends.
Now it's time for tea.
Inspired by someone on LJ, I am reminded that a guy I used to fancy, thought I was in LOVE with when I was about 16, FRIENDED me on facebook. He's married now and might have a kid. I really don't know what I saw in him, really. I was just mad for him, and he was a moron then and I'm sure he's a moron now. He was really funny and he liked me as a friend, but he liked to play all the girls and was a bit snarky. And he would only shop at the poshest stores, too.
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I miss the chilly and rainy
Apr. 24th, 2009 | 05:37 pm
There's a place: my hot bed
I got a feeling: hot
LP at the moment: Hot Summer Nights in my head
It is so effing hot today. This city has about 3 mild days a year, and the rest are either freezing cold or muggy and hot. Today is hot and not yet muggy. It already feels like summer and it sucks. I will never get used to this no matter how long I live here.
My supercool sunglasses everyone (including strangers) tries to take away from me finally broke. :( I go to this asian store nearby and get these really unusual but really cheap sunglasses, no more than $6. Doing this makes me not feel bad about the glasses eventually breaking, getting lost or being eaten by an ocean, AND I get these one-of-a-kind pairs that no one else can find. I am relatively happy with the new pair I got.
Tomorrow is the first wedding of my wedding season. I need the money, so I really don't care. I usually start hating wedding shoots by July, when it's hotter than hell and I constantly have 'We are family,' 'celebrate,' and 'the electric slide' in my head. And people think their weddings are just so personal. Ha fricking ha.
I threw away the last of the the easter chocolate and walked all over midtown today. Got iced coffee and contemplated life.
I am NOT going to do that baby photography job and here's why: they want me to take about 5 different tests, a blood test, and MMR test, some drug tests, all of which would probably cost me $500. They won't pay for any of it, because I'd be hired independently. So I told them no. If they want me, we can make a deal, but I'm not doing it, especially since I'd be working on commission.
Sunday I have an audtition for a feature film, and then to the park where some earth day stuff is going on, and I'll be handing out stuff for the veggie club, and then I have that "wedding photoshoot,' where I will NOT be the photographer this time, but acting in the role of a bridesmaid. I found an old bridesmaid dress I wore once, got drunk in and spilled stuff on, and tossed in my closet and forgot about. The skirt looks pretty bad, and it's dry-clean only. I can't get it wet and I can't use steam. So I'm going to try to use a hairdryer. Go me. I think.
My supercool sunglasses everyone (including strangers) tries to take away from me finally broke. :( I go to this asian store nearby and get these really unusual but really cheap sunglasses, no more than $6. Doing this makes me not feel bad about the glasses eventually breaking, getting lost or being eaten by an ocean, AND I get these one-of-a-kind pairs that no one else can find. I am relatively happy with the new pair I got.
Tomorrow is the first wedding of my wedding season. I need the money, so I really don't care. I usually start hating wedding shoots by July, when it's hotter than hell and I constantly have 'We are family,' 'celebrate,' and 'the electric slide' in my head. And people think their weddings are just so personal. Ha fricking ha.
I threw away the last of the the easter chocolate and walked all over midtown today. Got iced coffee and contemplated life.
I am NOT going to do that baby photography job and here's why: they want me to take about 5 different tests, a blood test, and MMR test, some drug tests, all of which would probably cost me $500. They won't pay for any of it, because I'd be hired independently. So I told them no. If they want me, we can make a deal, but I'm not doing it, especially since I'd be working on commission.
Sunday I have an audtition for a feature film, and then to the park where some earth day stuff is going on, and I'll be handing out stuff for the veggie club, and then I have that "wedding photoshoot,' where I will NOT be the photographer this time, but acting in the role of a bridesmaid. I found an old bridesmaid dress I wore once, got drunk in and spilled stuff on, and tossed in my closet and forgot about. The skirt looks pretty bad, and it's dry-clean only. I can't get it wet and I can't use steam. So I'm going to try to use a hairdryer. Go me. I think.
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Don't wanna think of a subject
Mar. 27th, 2009 | 01:08 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: hopeful
Okay, so tonight I'm gonna pop by another club (with all this club-hopping, you'd think I like doing it, but I really don't). This plan has been hatched by facebook stalking someone who's in the film biz in my city, who's also working on that superbig movie that's being filmed here. This guy is going to be at this event, so I'm going to bump into him. I go in, find out who's there, chat people up a bit and get some info and meet the people I need to meet and then leave. I don't spend a cent. Which is good, because I have just under $100 in my account. No, my bloody employer still hasn't sent me my cheque. I could sue his ass.
Oh Lord, I have all this shit (good shit) to do this week as far as "making it" goes. All these events (that's I've been invited to and I'm going to crash) full of obnoxious and superficial people, but in need of networking with in order to do anything with my stupid life.
After the thing tonight, I'm gonna head over to this hotel where my friends' band is playing. The members and their fans consist of the music dept. of my previous college. I really don't want to go, because it's going to be college drama all over again. I'm totally serious. Most of these people have graduated over 3 years ago with me and they're still talking about college and the music frat. I really don't think I have enough to do, so I'll go.
Saturday is a book thingy at a gallery with a rather famous actress/author. I met the owner at the cirque auditions. Sunday is a fashion shoot with my salon friend where I'll be subjected to kissing the arses of those fashion-mag-cleavage-girls again. It's going to be downtown at this casino, the very casino where the star of the superbig movie that's being filmed here was sighted drunk off his arse 2 weeks ago. Shmoozing op? I would say yes. If I see him, I'm gonna ask him why I haven't been called to be in the movie. Maybe he'll be so shitfaced he'll hire me himself.
Monday is an awards show I'm shooting, and the only reason I'm doing it is so I can get shitfaced at the afterparty.
But my employer contacted me and gave me all these dates to shoot weddings. I've been avoiding saying yes to anything, because I don't want to have any reasons to be stuck here if I should get some kind of opportunity elsewhere. So I said yes to a few of them.
Oh yeah. That's what I want to be doing. Shooting weddings for the rest of my existance. You know what? He'd be completely happy to do that himself. Weddings and real estate, nice and comfy living, same day after day with no big changes.
I owe $10 in library fines. Last night I helped mum clean out the pantry to get rid of the moth infestation. I'm starting to wonder if those antibiotics I took are slowly killing me, because I'm still itching and I think I'm being eaten alive from the inside out. Like in that one Poltergeist movie, where the guy drinks this stuff with a worm in it, and his mind is taken over and he barfs up this huge worm. That has stayed in my mind since I was ten years old. You know what I saw on youtube the other night? I'm a big Silence of the Lambs fan, but I've never seen or read Hannibal, and I stumbled across this scene in the movie on youtube, where this guy is drugged up and Hannibal is cutting into his brain.
I don't think I'm ever going to recover from that image. I feel like barfing up something. Probably a big worm.
Oh Lord, I have all this shit (good shit) to do this week as far as "making it" goes. All these events (that's I've been invited to and I'm going to crash) full of obnoxious and superficial people, but in need of networking with in order to do anything with my stupid life.
After the thing tonight, I'm gonna head over to this hotel where my friends' band is playing. The members and their fans consist of the music dept. of my previous college. I really don't want to go, because it's going to be college drama all over again. I'm totally serious. Most of these people have graduated over 3 years ago with me and they're still talking about college and the music frat. I really don't think I have enough to do, so I'll go.
Saturday is a book thingy at a gallery with a rather famous actress/author. I met the owner at the cirque auditions. Sunday is a fashion shoot with my salon friend where I'll be subjected to kissing the arses of those fashion-mag-cleavage-girls again. It's going to be downtown at this casino, the very casino where the star of the superbig movie that's being filmed here was sighted drunk off his arse 2 weeks ago. Shmoozing op? I would say yes. If I see him, I'm gonna ask him why I haven't been called to be in the movie. Maybe he'll be so shitfaced he'll hire me himself.
Monday is an awards show I'm shooting, and the only reason I'm doing it is so I can get shitfaced at the afterparty.
But my employer contacted me and gave me all these dates to shoot weddings. I've been avoiding saying yes to anything, because I don't want to have any reasons to be stuck here if I should get some kind of opportunity elsewhere. So I said yes to a few of them.
Oh yeah. That's what I want to be doing. Shooting weddings for the rest of my existance. You know what? He'd be completely happy to do that himself. Weddings and real estate, nice and comfy living, same day after day with no big changes.
I owe $10 in library fines. Last night I helped mum clean out the pantry to get rid of the moth infestation. I'm starting to wonder if those antibiotics I took are slowly killing me, because I'm still itching and I think I'm being eaten alive from the inside out. Like in that one Poltergeist movie, where the guy drinks this stuff with a worm in it, and his mind is taken over and he barfs up this huge worm. That has stayed in my mind since I was ten years old. You know what I saw on youtube the other night? I'm a big Silence of the Lambs fan, but I've never seen or read Hannibal, and I stumbled across this scene in the movie on youtube, where this guy is drugged up and Hannibal is cutting into his brain.
I don't think I'm ever going to recover from that image. I feel like barfing up something. Probably a big worm.
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I want to do a photoshoot completely shitfaced
Mar. 24th, 2009 | 09:21 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: lethargic
Okay, so I went over to my photographer friend's flat to get headshots, and I hate getting my picture taken because I'm probably the most un-photogenic person in the world, but we had fun and I got a few shots I kindasorta like. My observational senses are deeply hightened, so I can zoom into any imperfection, which makes me a good photographer but very hard on myself.
My own photoshoot was cancelled, so we ended up drinking and shooting more headshots and hanging out for the rest of the evening, and all that happened was a wrestling session on his couch. No, nothing the least bit hot and steamy, except some bum-squeezing from both of us. Then I went home and made tea like the loser I am. I am slightly disappointed.
Today was the appointment with one of the agencies, who had me read for a voiceover thingy and the audition lasted about 13 seconds, but I really am hopeful about it. Except for the fact I forgot my ankleboots at home and had to wear the boring black flats I had been wearing the beginning of the day whilst leafletting for the vegan society and printing out headshots. That's what happens when you have too much to do and you change your clothes in the car.
Plus, my Starbucks giftcard is all out. This makes me sad, but through all the running around the city, I did not get a parking ticket and spent a lot of my walking time looking on the ground for change to put in meters. I have exactly $111 in my bank account. Tomorrow I have a potential buyer for one of my camera bags. Maybe I can convince him to buy both. I'm gonna have to resort to sexual favours if I don't get some money soon. My employer emailed me saying how the cheque is on it's way later this week, he's short on money, paying taxes, blah blah blah. I'm going to contact the real estate photography place we work for and have them pay me directly from now on. I'm getting the impression he's using the money that's coming to me for his own expenses, biding his time a bit and when he can pay me the amount, he eventually does. That's NOT fair.
I should be charging interest of some kind, like 10% each week that he's late. I'm starting to think like a bloody accountant.
So my friend whom I was worried about who hated her job and quit is starting anew, back at her old subbing job. I am very relieved.
I'm getting rid of my cold and the itchiness is slowly going away. I really hope it's not fleas. That would suck.
And it's gorgeous outside.
My own photoshoot was cancelled, so we ended up drinking and shooting more headshots and hanging out for the rest of the evening, and all that happened was a wrestling session on his couch. No, nothing the least bit hot and steamy, except some bum-squeezing from both of us. Then I went home and made tea like the loser I am. I am slightly disappointed.
Today was the appointment with one of the agencies, who had me read for a voiceover thingy and the audition lasted about 13 seconds, but I really am hopeful about it. Except for the fact I forgot my ankleboots at home and had to wear the boring black flats I had been wearing the beginning of the day whilst leafletting for the vegan society and printing out headshots. That's what happens when you have too much to do and you change your clothes in the car.
Plus, my Starbucks giftcard is all out. This makes me sad, but through all the running around the city, I did not get a parking ticket and spent a lot of my walking time looking on the ground for change to put in meters. I have exactly $111 in my bank account. Tomorrow I have a potential buyer for one of my camera bags. Maybe I can convince him to buy both. I'm gonna have to resort to sexual favours if I don't get some money soon. My employer emailed me saying how the cheque is on it's way later this week, he's short on money, paying taxes, blah blah blah. I'm going to contact the real estate photography place we work for and have them pay me directly from now on. I'm getting the impression he's using the money that's coming to me for his own expenses, biding his time a bit and when he can pay me the amount, he eventually does. That's NOT fair.
I should be charging interest of some kind, like 10% each week that he's late. I'm starting to think like a bloody accountant.
So my friend whom I was worried about who hated her job and quit is starting anew, back at her old subbing job. I am very relieved.
I'm getting rid of my cold and the itchiness is slowly going away. I really hope it's not fleas. That would suck.
And it's gorgeous outside.
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Everything is just WEIRD
Mar. 21st, 2009 | 02:49 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: uncomfortable
Okay, so I stopped taking the dodgy antibiotic because all the weirdness was attributed to a crazy allergic reaction.
And I'm itching like mad. One of the side effects is a rash, but I also have these tiny little bumps. I don't have a dog or cat that could've brought in fleas, but I'm itching like I have fleas. So I threw away my mattress cushion and bought a new one, washed everything and cleaned up like mad, and I'm still itching. I stopped taking the medicine days ago and I'm still feeling it. The itching is driving me up the wall. They looks like little BITES. I don't know what the deal is. I've examined everything to see if I could find little bugs, and I'm not seeing anything.
So I'm going to my surgeon Monday if he can get me in, who's a master at skin and abnomalities. I want him to check out a little bump on my boob anyway just to make sure it's nothing (breast cancer runs rampant in my fam, so he said I should get anything checked out that seems wonky) and I know he's gonna be mad about using a dodgy antibiotic and will probably lecture me. I'm just learning my lesson and I deserve all these side effects for being a self-medicator.
My friend is into homepathism and she sends me these little trial thingies. I've been using this powder you mix with a drink that looks and tastes like pond scum, and it's made of chlorella, grass and chlorophyll. It promotes immunity, so I'm trying to beat this yucky cold with that.
So I need new headshots. You bring them to auditions and the one I am using now mum told me makes me looks weird. So probably tomorrow I will head over to my photographer friend's (whom I fancy a bit and flirt like mad with) to get some done. Hopefully I will ONLY do that. he is SUCH a randy sod, but an adorable one. I am trying to hook up with a good talent agency, and the one who wants me to pay $200 is telling me I should go with them, THEY willl get me tons of jobs and I know they would. But I have to keep in mind they're working for ME.
Tonight I am heading down to a club to see a band and generally try to have a bit of fun whilst networking. The boob-and-stiletto girls from the magazine I used to work for will will there, too, and I really don't care because I will never work for them again even if they begged me. These girls wear stilettos with heels. I don't see the point in that. When you wear jeans you DON'T see your feet. So why kill yourself for nothing? This elludes me. And mum bought more chocolate.
And my employer STILL hasn't paid me for like, 10 photoshoots. I don't know WHAT his trip is.
And I'm itching like mad. One of the side effects is a rash, but I also have these tiny little bumps. I don't have a dog or cat that could've brought in fleas, but I'm itching like I have fleas. So I threw away my mattress cushion and bought a new one, washed everything and cleaned up like mad, and I'm still itching. I stopped taking the medicine days ago and I'm still feeling it. The itching is driving me up the wall. They looks like little BITES. I don't know what the deal is. I've examined everything to see if I could find little bugs, and I'm not seeing anything.
So I'm going to my surgeon Monday if he can get me in, who's a master at skin and abnomalities. I want him to check out a little bump on my boob anyway just to make sure it's nothing (breast cancer runs rampant in my fam, so he said I should get anything checked out that seems wonky) and I know he's gonna be mad about using a dodgy antibiotic and will probably lecture me. I'm just learning my lesson and I deserve all these side effects for being a self-medicator.
My friend is into homepathism and she sends me these little trial thingies. I've been using this powder you mix with a drink that looks and tastes like pond scum, and it's made of chlorella, grass and chlorophyll. It promotes immunity, so I'm trying to beat this yucky cold with that.
So I need new headshots. You bring them to auditions and the one I am using now mum told me makes me looks weird. So probably tomorrow I will head over to my photographer friend's (whom I fancy a bit and flirt like mad with) to get some done. Hopefully I will ONLY do that. he is SUCH a randy sod, but an adorable one. I am trying to hook up with a good talent agency, and the one who wants me to pay $200 is telling me I should go with them, THEY willl get me tons of jobs and I know they would. But I have to keep in mind they're working for ME.
Tonight I am heading down to a club to see a band and generally try to have a bit of fun whilst networking. The boob-and-stiletto girls from the magazine I used to work for will will there, too, and I really don't care because I will never work for them again even if they begged me. These girls wear stilettos with heels. I don't see the point in that. When you wear jeans you DON'T see your feet. So why kill yourself for nothing? This elludes me. And mum bought more chocolate.
And my employer STILL hasn't paid me for like, 10 photoshoots. I don't know WHAT his trip is.
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It's time for tea and 'Meet the Wife.'
Mar. 8th, 2009 | 06:53 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: restless
LP at the moment: Goldfrapp
So yesterday I did the cirque audition and it turns out, it's NOT THE Cirque du Soleil; it's a different cirque company that is based in Miami who are picking one person from each city to do the broadway show in that city.
I thought it was going to be a private audition, but it was held right in the smacking middle of the shopping mall on a stage. Which was really interesting, cause I got to hang out with all these really talented people, most were contortionists (and one sweaty old guy who smelled really bad). I made friends with this one acrobat and a singer (who was dressed gothic Lolita, which you NEVER see in my city, EVER).
But what I've heard (from the gothic Lolita girl) is, if they LIKE you, they may not pick you for that one show, but they file away your info for future refrence. IF you were asked to talk with them afterwards. Guess who was asked to talk with them afterwards. Yay!
So I don't know if I'm gonna get picked to do this show, because the odds are that they're gonna get another contortionist or something, because there were really good ones there. Some cast members entertained us inbetween sections, and damn. It would be great to get to tour with these people.
So, anyway, I may get it and I may not. I'm hopeful but won't be devastated if I don't get picked. There were some amazing people there.
So a friend of mine is a teacher and is not happy. Tomorrow she is going to quit her job. She wants to quit so badly and she's just wasting time where she is right now with these imbicile people she can't please no matter what. She really has a passion for teaching but they won't give her a break. I told her she should just start subbing again, for she'll make more money and be in environments she loves AND she'd network. My friend is very pessimistic and isn't very good at just hanging on in situations that are rather annoying. I want to help her, but she's basically isolated where she is, right outside the city in the country.
So today me, mum and a couple family members went over to gran's house to start going through things we'd want before we have an estate sale. I don't want anything, except pictures. Everything over there now carries negative vibes and sad/bad memories. I remember the bad stuff before I remember the good stuff. Maybe that keeps things from becoming too sad. I've been having dreams about it lately.
STILL waiting for a call from the MOVIE. Arg. Gonna drink some tea now. I think I have a gland problem. I'm always tired.
I thought it was going to be a private audition, but it was held right in the smacking middle of the shopping mall on a stage. Which was really interesting, cause I got to hang out with all these really talented people, most were contortionists (and one sweaty old guy who smelled really bad). I made friends with this one acrobat and a singer (who was dressed gothic Lolita, which you NEVER see in my city, EVER).
But what I've heard (from the gothic Lolita girl) is, if they LIKE you, they may not pick you for that one show, but they file away your info for future refrence. IF you were asked to talk with them afterwards. Guess who was asked to talk with them afterwards. Yay!
So I don't know if I'm gonna get picked to do this show, because the odds are that they're gonna get another contortionist or something, because there were really good ones there. Some cast members entertained us inbetween sections, and damn. It would be great to get to tour with these people.
So, anyway, I may get it and I may not. I'm hopeful but won't be devastated if I don't get picked. There were some amazing people there.
So a friend of mine is a teacher and is not happy. Tomorrow she is going to quit her job. She wants to quit so badly and she's just wasting time where she is right now with these imbicile people she can't please no matter what. She really has a passion for teaching but they won't give her a break. I told her she should just start subbing again, for she'll make more money and be in environments she loves AND she'd network. My friend is very pessimistic and isn't very good at just hanging on in situations that are rather annoying. I want to help her, but she's basically isolated where she is, right outside the city in the country.
So today me, mum and a couple family members went over to gran's house to start going through things we'd want before we have an estate sale. I don't want anything, except pictures. Everything over there now carries negative vibes and sad/bad memories. I remember the bad stuff before I remember the good stuff. Maybe that keeps things from becoming too sad. I've been having dreams about it lately.
STILL waiting for a call from the MOVIE. Arg. Gonna drink some tea now. I think I have a gland problem. I'm always tired.
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I want some wine
Mar. 5th, 2009 | 06:50 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: worried
LP at the moment: The Damned-Neat Neat Neat
So I have a gps named Suzie. Suzie is still not aware that a huge section of a major freeway in my city is closed going in one direction. For miles and miles. Ordinarily, it's not TOO much of a problem, for there are many freeways in my area and it's just a matter of choosing the best ones at the right times. But Suzie does not care about this. She still wants me to take the closed freeway, and insists on it repeatedly, especially when I'm lost. I try to tell her but she is so damn stubborn. When I tell her to take me on a freeway-less route, she takes me all over town until I'm out of gas and there are people shooting each other around my car (that's why I love having a junky car; I never have to worry about it being stolen). And I don't want to ask them for directions.
I have been eating girl scout cookies and this makes me feel so effing bad, but I swear these things are laced with crack. I knew those scouts aren't as sweet and innocent as they appear. They're effing drug lords in little uniforms and hats.
So during my shoot today my camera starting doing the wonky underexposure thing again. I hightailed it to the camera ER, who explained to me the battery could NOT effect the exposure. Which I am very skeptical about. They told me the situations I was shooting under were causing those results. But how can you explain the inconsistancy? Wouldn't a shot taken a second later in the same situations without any changes produce the same effing shot? I guess not.
This seriously pisses me off. And I recently bought two camera bags online (because the huge one I use is sometimes unnecessary and inconvenient for some smaller shoot I have), both of which are much too small to be of use to me. (Not going to buy bags online anymore; it's too dodgy. They look so freaking big in the pictures and when they are shipped, they're smaller than eff). So I have spent $50 on two bags I don't want and have been trying to resell them. Meanwhile, I found a bag I liked a lot at the camera ER today that was only $40. I just have to sell the two bags and use the cash for the new bag. If only I could sell the motherfuckers. People are asking about them, but so far, no one is committed. Bastards.
Still waiting for the casting person to call about the movie. Saturday is the cirque audition. And mum told me about this flight deal to Rome, London or Spain. I miss it over there. But I'd rather be auditioning/filming HERE, at least for now. I'm just hoping I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.
I have been eating girl scout cookies and this makes me feel so effing bad, but I swear these things are laced with crack. I knew those scouts aren't as sweet and innocent as they appear. They're effing drug lords in little uniforms and hats.
So during my shoot today my camera starting doing the wonky underexposure thing again. I hightailed it to the camera ER, who explained to me the battery could NOT effect the exposure. Which I am very skeptical about. They told me the situations I was shooting under were causing those results. But how can you explain the inconsistancy? Wouldn't a shot taken a second later in the same situations without any changes produce the same effing shot? I guess not.
This seriously pisses me off. And I recently bought two camera bags online (because the huge one I use is sometimes unnecessary and inconvenient for some smaller shoot I have), both of which are much too small to be of use to me. (Not going to buy bags online anymore; it's too dodgy. They look so freaking big in the pictures and when they are shipped, they're smaller than eff). So I have spent $50 on two bags I don't want and have been trying to resell them. Meanwhile, I found a bag I liked a lot at the camera ER today that was only $40. I just have to sell the two bags and use the cash for the new bag. If only I could sell the motherfuckers. People are asking about them, but so far, no one is committed. Bastards.
Still waiting for the casting person to call about the movie. Saturday is the cirque audition. And mum told me about this flight deal to Rome, London or Spain. I miss it over there. But I'd rather be auditioning/filming HERE, at least for now. I'm just hoping I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.
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Building a door (for opportunity to knock upon)
Mar. 3rd, 2009 | 12:07 am
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: hopeful
Okay, so yesterday I did another movie that is directed by this guy from India who did all this stuff in L.A. and now he's doing a sci fi here. I got to do a scene in a stairwell, up on the roof of a building and evacuating into a hovercraft. It was colder than eff. It's being filmed in this insanely-highdef red film (which I know absolutely nothing about). On the set I chatted up a bunch of local actors who know everyone. A very good networking op. I have decided to sign with a (free) agency after everyone told me I should. I'm so used to finding my own jobs/auditions.
Today I stopped by my friend's salon and she fixed my hair a bit, but I think I decided to go too short. It still looks really sci fi. Which is probably why I got picked to do the movie yesterday. The black is already washing out of my hair and I've washed it once since I've dyed it. I photographed a local model who told me about some of her connections, one of whom is looking for people who want to travel. To L.A.
My friend also knows one of the casting people who are working on that superbig movie that's filming here that I auditioned for and am still waiting for a reply. I have from now until the end of April to know if I got it. AND next Saturday is the audition for the cirque. I KNOW. I pinched some leftover mardigras makeup someone left in a cafe that's really wild and sparkly. I will use it for the audition.
And tonight I went to yet ANOTHER networking event and lo and behold I saw one of the actors I filmed with yesterday, an exec who's in charge of an award ceremony I'm shooting this next month and a photographer friend of mine who has a new studio I want to rent. I was actually NOT BORED. I think I'm in a new creative cycle where I'm actually accomplishing something. I chatted up a guy who called me right wing after I told him that we are the government's pawns (it's the TRUTH, and everyone knows it!) and was hit on by this old guy who's a truck driver. I've thought about this and I know why guys my age don't hit on me much: the only ones who attend the kind of functions I attend are either with their girlfriends or they are gay.
But of course I got home tonight and mum made sure to tell me she didn't like my hair and my business cards suck. (Okay, they're pretty old and most of the info on them is wrong.) I made myself feel better by eating a few girl scout cookies (damn, dad) and painted my nails red.
Tomorrow: work, thrift store (so I can buy a new throw-everything-in-it bag, cause the bowling bag I am still using is being held together with duct tape).
And last night was the first night in awhile I didn't drink my 64 oz of water a half hour before bed. So I didn't have to get up 5 times during the night to pee. I actually SLEPT.
My family life is falling apart, though. For some reason, everyone has gone mad and are fighting. There are legal problems, financial problems, conflicting opinion/beliefs, and no one can get their acts together. They're never happy unless there is some drama and shit-stirring going on. I'm in the midst of it all, trying to stay positive and trying to get myself OUT of here, doing SOMETHING with my pathetic existance. How I wish I can just pack it all up and travel with the circus, eating fire, swinging from trapezes.
Today I stopped by my friend's salon and she fixed my hair a bit, but I think I decided to go too short. It still looks really sci fi. Which is probably why I got picked to do the movie yesterday. The black is already washing out of my hair and I've washed it once since I've dyed it. I photographed a local model who told me about some of her connections, one of whom is looking for people who want to travel. To L.A.
My friend also knows one of the casting people who are working on that superbig movie that's filming here that I auditioned for and am still waiting for a reply. I have from now until the end of April to know if I got it. AND next Saturday is the audition for the cirque. I KNOW. I pinched some leftover mardigras makeup someone left in a cafe that's really wild and sparkly. I will use it for the audition.
And tonight I went to yet ANOTHER networking event and lo and behold I saw one of the actors I filmed with yesterday, an exec who's in charge of an award ceremony I'm shooting this next month and a photographer friend of mine who has a new studio I want to rent. I was actually NOT BORED. I think I'm in a new creative cycle where I'm actually accomplishing something. I chatted up a guy who called me right wing after I told him that we are the government's pawns (it's the TRUTH, and everyone knows it!) and was hit on by this old guy who's a truck driver. I've thought about this and I know why guys my age don't hit on me much: the only ones who attend the kind of functions I attend are either with their girlfriends or they are gay.
But of course I got home tonight and mum made sure to tell me she didn't like my hair and my business cards suck. (Okay, they're pretty old and most of the info on them is wrong.) I made myself feel better by eating a few girl scout cookies (damn, dad) and painted my nails red.
Tomorrow: work, thrift store (so I can buy a new throw-everything-in-it bag, cause the bowling bag I am still using is being held together with duct tape).
And last night was the first night in awhile I didn't drink my 64 oz of water a half hour before bed. So I didn't have to get up 5 times during the night to pee. I actually SLEPT.
My family life is falling apart, though. For some reason, everyone has gone mad and are fighting. There are legal problems, financial problems, conflicting opinion/beliefs, and no one can get their acts together. They're never happy unless there is some drama and shit-stirring going on. I'm in the midst of it all, trying to stay positive and trying to get myself OUT of here, doing SOMETHING with my pathetic existance. How I wish I can just pack it all up and travel with the circus, eating fire, swinging from trapezes.
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One wedding and a french circus
Feb. 22nd, 2009 | 03:09 pm
There's a place: my living room
I got a feeling: hopeful
LP at the moment: Debussy
Okay, so March 7th I have an audition; a BIG one. The kind of audition you dream about and to GET IT means a dream come true. So...
This particular audition is for the Cirque. (The french circus that is doing a broadway tour very soon). I've always wanted to be in it ever since I tuned in sometime in the 90's. I've always wanted to dance, sing, swallow flaming swords and hang upside down from a flaming...okay, I'm done.
I've thought out this audition carefully, because certain auditions require certain strategies. This is not a black tie formal audition, so I decided to go all out with costume and as avant-guarde makeup as I can dish out. Complete with my lucky audition song: 'Noel des enfants qui n'ont plus de maisons,' which roughly translates to 'Christmas Carol for Children With No Homes.' It is not a christmasy sounding song; it's very upbeat and strange, which I thought would be perfect for the precise 2 minutes I will need to try to impress these people. I have no cd accompaniment, so I will have to do it a capella, which makes it all the more strange but more difficult for me. Have a listen. I really don't like the way this woman does it, but I couldn't find a better version. And I don't think I'm going to do it as formally as I usually do.
I had another 'getting married' dream last night. They all turn out the same, but this one started out different. I was marrying a GIRL (I'm not a lesbian, so I'm not really looking too hard into this!) What made it even weirder was that I WANTED to get married. But like always, I realised I didn't love the person and I escaped whilst everyone was looking for me, about to start the wedding.
This is just WEIRD. HOW many horror wedding dreams have I had, now? Maybe I just have this huge, massive fear of commitment. But then...I really don't. I would really like to know what a therapist would say about this.
This particular audition is for the Cirque. (The french circus that is doing a broadway tour very soon). I've always wanted to be in it ever since I tuned in sometime in the 90's. I've always wanted to dance, sing, swallow flaming swords and hang upside down from a flaming...okay, I'm done.
I've thought out this audition carefully, because certain auditions require certain strategies. This is not a black tie formal audition, so I decided to go all out with costume and as avant-guarde makeup as I can dish out. Complete with my lucky audition song: 'Noel des enfants qui n'ont plus de maisons,' which roughly translates to 'Christmas Carol for Children With No Homes.' It is not a christmasy sounding song; it's very upbeat and strange, which I thought would be perfect for the precise 2 minutes I will need to try to impress these people. I have no cd accompaniment, so I will have to do it a capella, which makes it all the more strange but more difficult for me. Have a listen. I really don't like the way this woman does it, but I couldn't find a better version. And I don't think I'm going to do it as formally as I usually do.
I had another 'getting married' dream last night. They all turn out the same, but this one started out different. I was marrying a GIRL (I'm not a lesbian, so I'm not really looking too hard into this!) What made it even weirder was that I WANTED to get married. But like always, I realised I didn't love the person and I escaped whilst everyone was looking for me, about to start the wedding.
This is just WEIRD. HOW many horror wedding dreams have I had, now? Maybe I just have this huge, massive fear of commitment. But then...I really don't. I would really like to know what a therapist would say about this.
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I like coffee
Jan. 27th, 2009 | 02:24 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: 
anxious
I couldn't post yesterday because my internet was doing wonky things. Certain websites and search engines did not work. I didn't know my connection could be so fickle and exclusive like that. Msn worked; livejournal didn't. Careerbuilder worked; facebook didn't. Blogger worked; this link about a kid who pretended to be a cop didn't. I stumped four techies. No one had ever heard of this happening. Livejournal started working about 5 minutes ago.
Went in for the auditions about 7 am sunday; there were already about 50 people there. It was really cold and that night I was cold at work; I was sure I was coming down with something. But I didn't; go me and my vegetarian magical properties!
On my way home from the auditions it started snowing and at the light to get onto the freeway I skidded into a car. We exchanged info and there didn't seem to be any damage. He said he was just taking my info as a precaution. He was more worried about ME. I was very relieved he wasn't a yuppie who freaks out about every scratch on his car like some of the losers I have encountered in the past. He had an accent and I thought he might be south american. But on the back of his car he had a bumper sticker that said 'Hakuna Matata.' I think I lucked out. Was the bumper sticker trying to tell me something?
Why can't cars be lined with padding? To make life just a little easier for all of us? So assholes can't bitch about little dings and make hell on earth for people like me with no money?
I try not to worry, but I just can't help it sometimes. I try to be all carefree and easygoing, and I really am. But I can't help but feel I am in a Woody Allen movie, all the time. Between my bouts of hypochondria and the people around me who are annoying, the weird compulsions I dig up...even way back when I was a kid. If I were really in a Woody Allen movie, I would like to be either Mia Farrow or Carol Kane. When I don't feel like Woody I feel like Edina.
Went in for the auditions about 7 am sunday; there were already about 50 people there. It was really cold and that night I was cold at work; I was sure I was coming down with something. But I didn't; go me and my vegetarian magical properties!
On my way home from the auditions it started snowing and at the light to get onto the freeway I skidded into a car. We exchanged info and there didn't seem to be any damage. He said he was just taking my info as a precaution. He was more worried about ME. I was very relieved he wasn't a yuppie who freaks out about every scratch on his car like some of the losers I have encountered in the past. He had an accent and I thought he might be south american. But on the back of his car he had a bumper sticker that said 'Hakuna Matata.' I think I lucked out. Was the bumper sticker trying to tell me something?
Why can't cars be lined with padding? To make life just a little easier for all of us? So assholes can't bitch about little dings and make hell on earth for people like me with no money?
I try not to worry, but I just can't help it sometimes. I try to be all carefree and easygoing, and I really am. But I can't help but feel I am in a Woody Allen movie, all the time. Between my bouts of hypochondria and the people around me who are annoying, the weird compulsions I dig up...even way back when I was a kid. If I were really in a Woody Allen movie, I would like to be either Mia Farrow or Carol Kane. When I don't feel like Woody I feel like Edina.