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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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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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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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Messing with the med students
May. 28th, 2009 | 06:03 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: 
peaceful
So, I really wish the patient programme could go all year round, a few times a week, but alas. School is over, which means the next time I do this will probably be in July. I was kind of counting on it being a constant thing. Oh well. Today that Old Guy who shows everyone his boxers told me the healthiest thing to eat is aspartamine and aspertane, and the chemicals in the foods we eat are actually making us live longer. I quickly learned just to nod and smile. I guess it would've be a bad idea if I showed him my packet of wheat grass and chloryphyl powder.
I'm glad we got to leave early because I got a superbad migrane that hit me hard and fast, and spent my way home trying not to puke. It's a shame it just NOW went away, because it's too late to deposit the pittance state tossed my way.
So I spent last night trying my best to diagnose my latest weird symptom: I have this weird taste/smell that won't go away. I'm experiencing this SENSE, but I don't know if I'm smelling it, tasting it, or remembering it. I keep getting whiffs of it all day. It's making me crazy. My mum told me not to go to the doctor until I've experienced it for over a month. But thinking I might have gastrointerlogical cancer or gingivitis makes me ansty.
Is it wrong that I fnd this too funny?
I'm glad we got to leave early because I got a superbad migrane that hit me hard and fast, and spent my way home trying not to puke. It's a shame it just NOW went away, because it's too late to deposit the pittance state tossed my way.
So I spent last night trying my best to diagnose my latest weird symptom: I have this weird taste/smell that won't go away. I'm experiencing this SENSE, but I don't know if I'm smelling it, tasting it, or remembering it. I keep getting whiffs of it all day. It's making me crazy. My mum told me not to go to the doctor until I've experienced it for over a month. But thinking I might have gastrointerlogical cancer or gingivitis makes me ansty.
Is it wrong that I fnd this too funny?
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Wine in the afternoon again
May. 22nd, 2009 | 06:19 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: 
complacent
So Mr. Stabby (the pimp director) called me twice and emailed me once. I didn't listen to his messages, and shot him an email, very diplomatically saying I wasn't available to do the movie. My friend messaged me saying Mr. Stabby contacted HIM and he wasn't very happy with me. So I might just live in fear and yet feel all the more sexy and dramatic I might just have to have my first restraining order.
So on MSN, a link to different cancer symptoms caught my eye and I couldn't resist. Thus, I have diagnosed myself with lung cancer, ovarian cancer and lukemia. I know I just went to the gyno in December AND got a blood test. I'm thinking it all developed right after I went in. So if Mr. Stabby doesn't hack me into little pieces, I'll die a slow, horrible death.
Went to a winery today, fun fun. It's very strange, but all the while growing up and until about three months ago, I used to hate mushrooms. And now I love them. Same with peppers and tomatoes.
So this next week is the training thing at the school where we'll all play different patients to help the pre-med students prepare for their careers. The pay is not bad at all. And no, my employer hasn't paid me for about a month. It's back to living on black beans again. The real estate people wanted me to do a shoot about two hours away. I told them no. If they wanted to rent me a car and pay me more, we'll talk. It feels so good being a firm badass.
I did a shoot yesterday for a property in a very bad neighbourhood. It happens, but this specific house had no door. A peice of plywood was in the doorway, secured by a padlock. I was to unlock the padlock and let myself in, so therefore, I couldn't lock the door BEHIND me as I entered into a pitch black porthole into hell. Which it WAS. It looked as if it had survived a atom bomb. Black everywhere, glass and trash all underfoot. I couldn't see anything, and everything was demolished. It was a combo of Candyman and Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The stairs were almost collaping, and I was to take all these PICTURES everywhere. There were scary people around yelling around me, and I knew any minute someone was going to let themselves in past the plywood and come and kill me, mutilate me and string me up in the window to warn other presumptious photographers. I was shaking so bad I couldn't do it. It was hysterically funny and the most scared I have ever been, including when I had the knife waved at me by Mr. Stabby in his little barbershop of horrors.
Do I have a death wish this week or what?
The only good thing about possibly being stalked by a 500 pound tattooed, pierced guy armed with mideaval weapons is that he'd be easy to spot.
So on MSN, a link to different cancer symptoms caught my eye and I couldn't resist. Thus, I have diagnosed myself with lung cancer, ovarian cancer and lukemia. I know I just went to the gyno in December AND got a blood test. I'm thinking it all developed right after I went in. So if Mr. Stabby doesn't hack me into little pieces, I'll die a slow, horrible death.
Went to a winery today, fun fun. It's very strange, but all the while growing up and until about three months ago, I used to hate mushrooms. And now I love them. Same with peppers and tomatoes.
So this next week is the training thing at the school where we'll all play different patients to help the pre-med students prepare for their careers. The pay is not bad at all. And no, my employer hasn't paid me for about a month. It's back to living on black beans again. The real estate people wanted me to do a shoot about two hours away. I told them no. If they wanted to rent me a car and pay me more, we'll talk. It feels so good being a firm badass.
I did a shoot yesterday for a property in a very bad neighbourhood. It happens, but this specific house had no door. A peice of plywood was in the doorway, secured by a padlock. I was to unlock the padlock and let myself in, so therefore, I couldn't lock the door BEHIND me as I entered into a pitch black porthole into hell. Which it WAS. It looked as if it had survived a atom bomb. Black everywhere, glass and trash all underfoot. I couldn't see anything, and everything was demolished. It was a combo of Candyman and Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The stairs were almost collaping, and I was to take all these PICTURES everywhere. There were scary people around yelling around me, and I knew any minute someone was going to let themselves in past the plywood and come and kill me, mutilate me and string me up in the window to warn other presumptious photographers. I was shaking so bad I couldn't do it. It was hysterically funny and the most scared I have ever been, including when I had the knife waved at me by Mr. Stabby in his little barbershop of horrors.
Do I have a death wish this week or what?
The only good thing about possibly being stalked by a 500 pound tattooed, pierced guy armed with mideaval weapons is that he'd be easy to spot.
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Bitchfest
May. 13th, 2009 | 12:52 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: 
pissed off
It seems like every month I'm hanging on from one late paycheck to another. My employer owes me again, and I still have $7.75 in my account. I have a lot coming from him, plus $100 from Holiday Inn and about $200 from housesitting next week. I can't buy food so I'm living on black beans and some fig newtons mum bought, which is not good. Reducing food consumption is good, though. The real estate people want me to shoot about 40 miles away, and since I can't get gas, I don't know what to tell them. Oh yeah, I do. How does this sound: "You people need to pay me more. You think I'm doing this because it's FUN for me? I'm a bloody professional, and you don't know how to do your job. Just because you can pay amateurs pittance to take pictures of houses, that doesn't mean you can take advantage of them or me. I spend a lot of time doing these jobs and I put a lot of miles on my car, and I could be doing the same work independently for three times more. Thank you and have a good day." That's what I want to say.
And I know what to say to some other people, too: "Pay me on time or I'll leave you high and dry. Would you like that? You think you have it harder just because you have kids? You don't know anything about me." I'm way too fucking nice.
This is how the business works: a company/magazine/event what-have-you needs your skills but cannot afford to pay for them. They try to find students or photographers who are hard up for some kind of work, and the company/magazine/event what-have-you has your balls in the meat grinder. They tell you the experience is compensation, and you know you need whatever work you can get, even if you have to sacrifice for the experience. That's how the acting biz is, also. Sometimes you cannot afford be to paid as much as you deserve, if that makes any sense.
Now excuse me while I go make a big hole in a big body of water.
*Edit* (Bitchfest, take 2)
No, I didn't end it all; instead I went over to gran's house with mum to try to sort through stuff before we have the estate sale, which God knows when that's going to be or how it's going to happen.
I don't know why I'm having a bit of a breakdown today, maybe the combo of stress, fear, panic, resentment, sadness at the sight of gran's house being stuffy and dark when I spent so many years of my life visiting her in it, living in it, sleeping over, playing, all these stupid things that are still there, worthless and stuff, but was around my entire childhood. And how in a way I'm happy I spent 9 months taking care of her and having everything in that house no longer carrying a happy memory and instead replaced with a frustrated feeling. If I only had happy memories, it would be so much worse, and having negative feelings connected with that house now, it's easier in a way.
I think I'm just majorly PMSing.
I decided to do that stupid estate shoot 45 minutes away. I also got a part in this film that's shooting in June. The script is full of sex and murder.
The scary thing about everything I do is that I'm so close to saying "fuck it" and getting a real job that I hate just because I can HAVE a real job, make some money instead of struggling, trying to "make it big." That's my biggest fear. When I will give it all up.
And I know what to say to some other people, too: "Pay me on time or I'll leave you high and dry. Would you like that? You think you have it harder just because you have kids? You don't know anything about me." I'm way too fucking nice.
This is how the business works: a company/magazine/event what-have-you needs your skills but cannot afford to pay for them. They try to find students or photographers who are hard up for some kind of work, and the company/magazine/event what-have-you has your balls in the meat grinder. They tell you the experience is compensation, and you know you need whatever work you can get, even if you have to sacrifice for the experience. That's how the acting biz is, also. Sometimes you cannot afford be to paid as much as you deserve, if that makes any sense.
Now excuse me while I go make a big hole in a big body of water.
*Edit* (Bitchfest, take 2)
No, I didn't end it all; instead I went over to gran's house with mum to try to sort through stuff before we have the estate sale, which God knows when that's going to be or how it's going to happen.
I don't know why I'm having a bit of a breakdown today, maybe the combo of stress, fear, panic, resentment, sadness at the sight of gran's house being stuffy and dark when I spent so many years of my life visiting her in it, living in it, sleeping over, playing, all these stupid things that are still there, worthless and stuff, but was around my entire childhood. And how in a way I'm happy I spent 9 months taking care of her and having everything in that house no longer carrying a happy memory and instead replaced with a frustrated feeling. If I only had happy memories, it would be so much worse, and having negative feelings connected with that house now, it's easier in a way.
I think I'm just majorly PMSing.
I decided to do that stupid estate shoot 45 minutes away. I also got a part in this film that's shooting in June. The script is full of sex and murder.
The scary thing about everything I do is that I'm so close to saying "fuck it" and getting a real job that I hate just because I can HAVE a real job, make some money instead of struggling, trying to "make it big." That's my biggest fear. When I will give it all up.
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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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Maybe I have swine flu
Apr. 27th, 2009 | 12:53 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: sick
So I have a cold again (I think I either caught it from my employer or my dad) and I don't have cold meds left. This is funny/scary: I was looking through my med cabinet (which is really a drawer), and I saw a pack of pills that looked like my cold meds, but it was out of it's box. The name wasn't on the pack, but it looked just like my cold pills. Anyroad, I was about to take two and then I realised they were my freaking wonky Indian ANTIBIOTICS that I had the worst allergic reation to, and I had only taken about a quarter of a pill at a time. If I had done it, you all would have never heard from me again, and the only left would be my boring LJ blogs. How sad is that?
I don't like those stupid job websites. I have careerbuilder and monster.com, and everything I'm offered is either sales, customer service and technical writing/web design. I hate these things with an insurmountable passion.
All I can really do right now is drink tea and moan. Which isn't that different than my normal day. Good side: I don't have to feel guilty about not taking advantage of this crisp, rainy weather that I love way more than than the hot sun (and I'm badly sunburned from yesterday...the only day I didn't slather on sunscreen. I have a fear of skin cancer), AND not driving my car around today means more fuel in the tank.
Oh, and besides moaning and drinking tea, I can work on my "novel" (bleah, I don't know where to go with it, except for killing off someone else which shouldn't become a habit), or just meander through the lovely, inspiring assortments of inspirations from youtube, watching certain nighttime talk-show hosts do sexy dances, reminicse about times of long ago, and just feel like a gross pariah.
I don't like those stupid job websites. I have careerbuilder and monster.com, and everything I'm offered is either sales, customer service and technical writing/web design. I hate these things with an insurmountable passion.
All I can really do right now is drink tea and moan. Which isn't that different than my normal day. Good side: I don't have to feel guilty about not taking advantage of this crisp, rainy weather that I love way more than than the hot sun (and I'm badly sunburned from yesterday...the only day I didn't slather on sunscreen. I have a fear of skin cancer), AND not driving my car around today means more fuel in the tank.
Oh, and besides moaning and drinking tea, I can work on my "novel" (bleah, I don't know where to go with it, except for killing off someone else which shouldn't become a habit), or just meander through the lovely, inspiring assortments of inspirations from youtube, watching certain nighttime talk-show hosts do sexy dances, reminicse about times of long ago, and just feel like a gross pariah.
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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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I am COLD, brrr...
Apr. 20th, 2009 | 09:25 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: cold
So today I interviewed with the guy who does the baby photography at hospitals and I almost dropped the 's' word (not shit, screw). I really should stop cussing so much because it slips out a bit without me realising it.
Tomorrow is my cousin's funeral and I think we're all going out to eat or something afterward. Yesterday at the stupid wedding show I drank all this wine, but I got so sleepy and a little uninhibited that I ate a piece of cake.
Today my salon friend asked me to come by and do a couple shots of a girl-party-thing at the salon, and she was doing nails and stuff like that. One of the guests work for Oprah magazine. I know. We're going to send them all a cd with all my pics I took tonight along with my business card.
It is time for tea and more water and maybe some hummus. I also got word that a local theatre is hiring people to work on staff and as managers and stuff.
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A bad thing, and one good thing at the end
Apr. 17th, 2009 | 04:18 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: sad
LP at the moment: Spearhead and Wendy Rene
Okay, so today we decided to take my cousin off his respirator and he died immedietely after. Basically, this disease has been present for a long time and he didn't follow up on it carefully. He was a bit wild and in denial, and that's not always a good combination. His mum seemed to be dealing with it better than I thought, but with things like this, it's always shock right at first and THEN hysteria. My mum went in there to be with him when he died. That's one thing I will not do. I have enough nightmares.
My other cousin, his brother, is making all the arrangements. He and I and my other cousin weren't especially close, but we were closer than some people and their family members. My family is fairly disfunctional.
It's amazing how life ends so quickly. How you can be really healthy and then die suddenly, or be in bad health and die when you're 90. I'm also thinking about who's going to be the next two, because deaths always always always come in threes. Every single time.
Tomorrow I may head out a bit southward with some friends for one of their birthdays. I should go to this acting thing, but I feel like being irresponsible (like I'm not already). Yesterday I got a bit of a wad from uncle Sam, which is gonna pay for one of my bills this month. One good thing comes from paying taxes.
Monday is the funeral and I also have a meeting that day with someone from a hospital who needs a baby photographer. Now, this is DEF NOT my forte, but I need some money and I'm rather desperate. I'm never around babies; I'm usually around irritating family members (who are usually dying) and professional models. I don't handle newborns, but I'm willing to bullshit a bit and have another new freelance job. I also have the first wedding of the season next saturday. Bleah, bleah.
Incidently, is it really obsessive and creepy to watch this three million times?
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I learned about sex from medical books
Apr. 15th, 2009 | 09:20 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: 
anxious
LP at the moment: Amy Winehouse
So today we got a call from my aunt who told us my cousin (who I'm not very close to) has hemochromatosis, which is a genetic disease that messes with your iron levels. He was pretty sick and last night, he had a heart attack. Right now, he has damage to his organs and probably brain damage. We have no idea if he's gonna make it. I spent the morning/afternoon in the ICU. Everyone in my fam is now gonna get tested for this, because it can even be a recessive gene.
After that, I made my way downtown to the big hospital. Why, you ask? No, not from any hypochondria on my part. I am participating in a Student Programme, which means I will play different roles of "patients" in order for the pre-med students to practice interacting with patients and diagnosis. I sat in with a few actors (there were a few there I have been on sets with before and the coordinator is a talent agent who's in charge of lots around here) to see how the thing worked. Turns out, I really think I missed my calling as a MD. I found myself instead of concentrating on the acting part of the programme, I began mentally diagnosing the conditions. I diagnosed asthma, walking phneumonia and possible acute bronchitis, and finally depression and anxiety of the three "patients." Screw this art shit, I should go to fucking med school.
Except I'd be the kind of MD who would be doing a surgery and have an "oh fuck" moment, realising I left my watch inside the patient. I don't think they'd want me. Everything I have learned from the med profession is that I should be a patient rather than a physician.
I am praying like hell my cousin will be okay.
After that, I made my way downtown to the big hospital. Why, you ask? No, not from any hypochondria on my part. I am participating in a Student Programme, which means I will play different roles of "patients" in order for the pre-med students to practice interacting with patients and diagnosis. I sat in with a few actors (there were a few there I have been on sets with before and the coordinator is a talent agent who's in charge of lots around here) to see how the thing worked. Turns out, I really think I missed my calling as a MD. I found myself instead of concentrating on the acting part of the programme, I began mentally diagnosing the conditions. I diagnosed asthma, walking phneumonia and possible acute bronchitis, and finally depression and anxiety of the three "patients." Screw this art shit, I should go to fucking med school.
Except I'd be the kind of MD who would be doing a surgery and have an "oh fuck" moment, realising I left my watch inside the patient. I don't think they'd want me. Everything I have learned from the med profession is that I should be a patient rather than a physician.
I am praying like hell my cousin will be okay.
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I have to remember to pay my ticket...
Apr. 13th, 2009 | 10:45 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: 
groggy
Okay, so the fam thing kinda sucked, but what sucked more was when mum had her little tantums before they arrived, which she does like clockwork before any kind of holiday. I spent the day cleaning and she still wasn't happy, because she's never happy unless she's bitching, stressed for no reason and bossing everyone around...and then my dad started in on me for no reason. He basically reprimanded me (I'm 27).
SO I took my keys and left. I went to get coffee and relaxed for about an hour and a half. I think it freaked them out a bit. I have never just walked out like that, and I'm glad. I'm not letting them run my life. I had a rather lovely time at Starbucks, where I got a lovely regular coffee.
It was a good thing my little "neice" was there; she makes the fam thing much better now that she's here. We had an egg hunt in my backyard. My bean soup turned out very good.
So I'm working a lot on my "novel;" I think it's a good sign when you kill someone off and you cry afterwards. Or if you write a really scary scene and it freaks you out. I have absolutely no idea where to go with it anymore.
Tomorrow I'm going to a lecture from a photographer who works for National Geographic. Whoot!
Today I submitted an application to be a baby photographer at a hospital. I know now I am desperate.
And oh shit, I have another overdue library book. I owe like, $10 in fines already. I don't think there's ever a time when I don't have a library fine.
SO I took my keys and left. I went to get coffee and relaxed for about an hour and a half. I think it freaked them out a bit. I have never just walked out like that, and I'm glad. I'm not letting them run my life. I had a rather lovely time at Starbucks, where I got a lovely regular coffee.
It was a good thing my little "neice" was there; she makes the fam thing much better now that she's here. We had an egg hunt in my backyard. My bean soup turned out very good.
So I'm working a lot on my "novel;" I think it's a good sign when you kill someone off and you cry afterwards. Or if you write a really scary scene and it freaks you out. I have absolutely no idea where to go with it anymore.
Tomorrow I'm going to a lecture from a photographer who works for National Geographic. Whoot!
Today I submitted an application to be a baby photographer at a hospital. I know now I am desperate.
And oh shit, I have another overdue library book. I owe like, $10 in fines already. I don't think there's ever a time when I don't have a library fine.
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What I did today
Apr. 11th, 2009 | 11:41 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: 
accomplished
Okay, so today was freaking LONG. I got up at six, arrived at the filming for the trailer I'm gonna be in at eight. When they start filming the feature, they're gonna call US to be in it; we have first dibs. Yay! We shot three scenes and I didn't get home until about five. I ate a doughnut on the set and feel horrible about it. It was so freaking good. It was a lot of hurry up and wait; it always IS. Hung out with a couple cool people there, a few I've been on other sets with before, so it was good to see them again. On my way out, I found a parking ticket on my car. Fucking jerks need to give us leeway on saturdays.
Got home and worked on my "novel" a bit and killed off one of my main characters. I feel terrible and sad now. I may fix it and keep him alive, but when you keep writing and it turns into something like you're EXPERIENCING it yourself, you find things happen in your story you don't WANT, but it makes sense and is almost impossible to make it happen otherwise.
I then started cleaning for tomorrow, dyed easter eggs and painted each one with replicas by the great masters of French Impressionism. I have two Van Gogh's, a Degas, a Gauguin, a Monet and a Toulouse Lautrec. And two others, one of a painting I don't know by WHOM, and a springtime tree. After that, I cleaned some more, did laundry and started my black bean soup which I will be the primary eater of tomorrow when the fam comes over.
I now just have to mop the floor, finish my soup and consume the rest of my 64 oz of water. It is nineteen minutes til midnight. I don't think I did enough today.
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That thin line between stupid and clever
Apr. 9th, 2009 | 09:49 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: lonely
Okay, so mum has decided that we ARE gonna have the fam over on Easter. I had previously convinced her to just go out to eat instead, cause I didn't feel like cleaning and doing the whole day-of-the-holiday shit: clean, clean some more, move stuff around, get this from downstairs, find the pretty glasses for this and that, listen to mum bitch and complain and sit around eating the only veggie dish I made myself while my family expresses concern about my eating habits and bitch about politics. It's the same crap every single time. Mum said, no, we're ARE going to have it this year, for personal reasons. Because gran is no longer here, I don't know if she's trying to hold on to the past, or what.
I had a dream about that last night. I dreamt that gran was alive again and I was gonna have to stay over there and take care of her again. And I woke up feeling horrible, because even though my gran was alive again, I didn't want to be a nurse again. It was seriously the hardest job/year of our lives, and even though in my dream she was alive again, I didn't want to do it. When gran died, it was a relief. Mum feels this way, too, so I don't feel like a total fuckrag. It's a very complicated senario. We had lived with gran for years until we all moved here, and she moved about a half mile from us and had been there since. Mum and gran had this love/hate thing, and gran was a huge presence, like it or not, in everyone's lives, telling us how to live, what home remedies cured this or that. She was my other mum. And when we had taken care of her last year when she was no longer able to move on her own, we gave up our lives and learned how to be nurses.
And I knew that when we put her in the nursing home last August, because we were just too tired, sick, beat up and exhuasted, I knew she wouldn't have much longer, because going into a home is a death sentence.
But when she did die, it was TIME, and I'm not gonna go into HOW I know this, because it's a very disturbing story. I've seen other cancer deaths, and this was something else.
Okay, enough about this. Nevertheless, we are having easter HERE, and I will have to whip up my black bean soup, because I won't have anything healthy and non-fattening to eat and I don't need them hassling me about not eating bread, ham and the rest.
I don't know why I'm suddenly feeling so lonely and morbid, so I'll just stay in denial, chalk it up to hormones and watch Spinal Tap on youtube.
I had a dream about that last night. I dreamt that gran was alive again and I was gonna have to stay over there and take care of her again. And I woke up feeling horrible, because even though my gran was alive again, I didn't want to be a nurse again. It was seriously the hardest job/year of our lives, and even though in my dream she was alive again, I didn't want to do it. When gran died, it was a relief. Mum feels this way, too, so I don't feel like a total fuckrag. It's a very complicated senario. We had lived with gran for years until we all moved here, and she moved about a half mile from us and had been there since. Mum and gran had this love/hate thing, and gran was a huge presence, like it or not, in everyone's lives, telling us how to live, what home remedies cured this or that. She was my other mum. And when we had taken care of her last year when she was no longer able to move on her own, we gave up our lives and learned how to be nurses.
And I knew that when we put her in the nursing home last August, because we were just too tired, sick, beat up and exhuasted, I knew she wouldn't have much longer, because going into a home is a death sentence.
But when she did die, it was TIME, and I'm not gonna go into HOW I know this, because it's a very disturbing story. I've seen other cancer deaths, and this was something else.
Okay, enough about this. Nevertheless, we are having easter HERE, and I will have to whip up my black bean soup, because I won't have anything healthy and non-fattening to eat and I don't need them hassling me about not eating bread, ham and the rest.
I don't know why I'm suddenly feeling so lonely and morbid, so I'll just stay in denial, chalk it up to hormones and watch Spinal Tap on youtube.
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Pathetic, thy name is Astrid
Apr. 7th, 2009 | 06:19 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: amused
LP at the moment: Romantic shit
Okay, I know I'm sick as shit because I was thinking lately about getting married, and if I were to get married, he would have to be the coolest, most brilliant and talented and funny guy, who would blow my mind with his awesomeness and humour...
THEN I was thinking, WHY would I want to saddle such a cool guy like that with ME and WHY would I want to bring a kid in this world with MY chromosones but then deny a cool guy like that the chance to reproduce...and living the rest of my life worried something horrible could happen to the love of my life, and thinking I might have to watch him die someday, and I don't think I could stand that.
So I think I'd rather NOT be in love with someone. I don't think it's worth it.
So the whole "it is better to love and lost than to have never loved at all" is bullshit.
I know it's a very sick, negative way of looking at things. But I'm a rather morbid person.
And I've had WAY too much coffee today. And I've been listening to WAY too many romantically pathetic songs, which might explain things.
THEN I was thinking, WHY would I want to saddle such a cool guy like that with ME and WHY would I want to bring a kid in this world with MY chromosones but then deny a cool guy like that the chance to reproduce...and living the rest of my life worried something horrible could happen to the love of my life, and thinking I might have to watch him die someday, and I don't think I could stand that.
So I think I'd rather NOT be in love with someone. I don't think it's worth it.
So the whole "it is better to love and lost than to have never loved at all" is bullshit.
I know it's a very sick, negative way of looking at things. But I'm a rather morbid person.
And I've had WAY too much coffee today. And I've been listening to WAY too many romantically pathetic songs, which might explain things.
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Random Musings
Apr. 2nd, 2009 | 08:21 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: complacent
LP at the moment: Sinead O'Connor
So I usually use the space in here to bitch about my day and lament about how poor/fucked up/sick/pathetic I am, but maybe this time I'll set that stuff aside and just type randomly about stuff.
I like tea a lot. I am not drinking it now; I'm trying to get my 64 oz of water in before midnight. But I love tea immensely. To those who drink it on a regular basis like moi: ever notice that as soon as you start drinking a cuppa, your mood goes up and you feel physically better? I think it has magical healting properties. But the downside is that your teeth get stained. That's another thing: why are brits stereotyped as having bad teeth, even now past the millennium? Dunno.
Here in the US (and pretty much everywhere in the world) they are having a bit of an economic crisis. But you know what I think? The media is scaring the shit out of people and keeping them tight so they won't stimulate the economy. I don't think America is as bad as everyone thinks it is in this crisis, but everywhere you look, it's about "Will you go bankrupt?" "Can you survive the crisis?" "Ways you can cut back on personal spending," yada yada yada.
Does anyone think these are motivational, ecouraging, ECONOMY-STIMULATING words??? I think not. Everyone is scared out of their minds and I think that's what they want. It's easy to control desperate, fearful people, and these people will do anything the gov says in order to just survive.
It is raining here.
So today I got the lighter-thingy fixed. They did it for free. Lovely techie-guys.
So I'm sussing out a local indie scriptwriter. I went a cafe the other night to read his latest. He invites all his theatre mates to come by and read stuff and buys them coffee. I am so used to reading bad scripts, but this one was very promising. The dialouge was a little forced and not as realistic as it could be, but it was an interesting story with interesting characters. I am so tired of reading scripts that go 'Boy meets girl, they go to a party.'
I am seriously craving chocolate. I want some so bad. Because I'm being insanely careful with my little wad I have until my cheque comes, I have been also cutting back on my food intake, which is probably not good because I probably eat less than 1000 calories a day. When I pig out, I eat apples and grapes and black beans on toast and that fills me up. But I would KILL for a little piece of chocolate. You know what? I wish there was a day where we could eat anything we wanted and we wouldn't suffer the consequences. I would hork down a cake, brownies, burgers (I know I'm a veggie, but hey, this wouldn't count, right?), crab rangoon, cheese, ice cream, tarts, scones, PANCAKES with SYRUP...good God.
I feel like getting on a train and leaving, going cross country like it was so easy to do in europe. I'd go to Cali right now if I could. I have some friends in LA I could hole up with. How much fun would that be? I hear they have good vegan cafes there.
I want to open up a veggie-friendly chain fast food joint. I would serve very filling, hearty meals on the go, and I think I'd make a killing.
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Just sent off my taxes today...whoot
Mar. 28th, 2009 | 08:12 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: hopeful
Okay, so the thing last night was crap. I showed up and it really didn't start for another hour, which turned out to be another hour and a half...managed to sneak in without paying the $10 cover and hung in the loo with some snarky models whilst a guy unstopped the drains and bitched about his job. I told him to ask for a raise. Poor guy didn't seem to have anyone backing him up.
I waited around for some people I thought were going to be there to show up...waited and waited and did NOT get any drinks...I'm broke and too worried about the calories. I really shouldn't be, but the chocolate I ate this week...damn, and I know I'm sick like that, obsessing over it.
Anyroad, that one guy who's involved in that film does not show up and I don't know about you, but standing around trying to look busy while talking to NO ONE at a fucking club is NOT fun. So I just left. It was a wasted evening. I DID like the 60s dress I had on. And the only friends I made were a bouncer and the poor bitching guy in the toilets.
Today I went to the gallery opening where this famous actress was plugging her stuff...I brought my friend along who absolutely adores her. We chatted her up, yadayada, I'm not big into celebs, and the woman was more interested in selling her stuff than being real. I could tell she thought she was the gearest thing around. My friend was in awe, so at least I got to do something cool for her. My friend STILL thinks I married/divorced Craig Ferguson. I find that absolutely enthralling and I don't want to tell her the truth yet. Yes, I'm a pathological liar.
It's all a matter of degrees, like that Kevin Bacon game. And if you try hard enough, you can trick yourself into being hopeful.
Fashion shoot at the casino tomorrow, AND a road trip with some FILM PEOPLE for this FILM convention thingy tuesday! (Don't know how exactly I was invited...) Does this sound like a good networking op? I would say SO!!! Right now everything's up in the air and I have no idea what I should be doing.
But it's time to do something.
I waited around for some people I thought were going to be there to show up...waited and waited and did NOT get any drinks...I'm broke and too worried about the calories. I really shouldn't be, but the chocolate I ate this week...damn, and I know I'm sick like that, obsessing over it.
Anyroad, that one guy who's involved in that film does not show up and I don't know about you, but standing around trying to look busy while talking to NO ONE at a fucking club is NOT fun. So I just left. It was a wasted evening. I DID like the 60s dress I had on. And the only friends I made were a bouncer and the poor bitching guy in the toilets.
Today I went to the gallery opening where this famous actress was plugging her stuff...I brought my friend along who absolutely adores her. We chatted her up, yadayada, I'm not big into celebs, and the woman was more interested in selling her stuff than being real. I could tell she thought she was the gearest thing around. My friend was in awe, so at least I got to do something cool for her. My friend STILL thinks I married/divorced Craig Ferguson. I find that absolutely enthralling and I don't want to tell her the truth yet. Yes, I'm a pathological liar.
It's all a matter of degrees, like that Kevin Bacon game. And if you try hard enough, you can trick yourself into being hopeful.
Fashion shoot at the casino tomorrow, AND a road trip with some FILM PEOPLE for this FILM convention thingy tuesday! (Don't know how exactly I was invited...) Does this sound like a good networking op? I would say SO!!! Right now everything's up in the air and I have no idea what I should be doing.
But it's time to do something.