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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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Last night was *not* an Oscar party
Jul. 24th, 2009 | 01:47 pm
There's a place: cafe
I got a feeling: 
amused
So last night I went to the filmmaker's party and everyone got shitfaced. I logged into facebook and saw the standard "sorry, I was drunk" messages. I thought I would know more people, but instead I met some new people, one of which I stumped throughout the night with useless Beatles trivia, an old guy who kept trying to get me to go home with him (when I said I want to meet someone a little older, I meant someone like Craig and not a guy who looks like my grandpa), a guy who was toasted off his ass who is in a pretty big movie here, who insisted we be a power couple for the rest of the night. I suggested we'd emulate Ivana and Donald Trump. I ended up walking with him and his friend all over town after I consumed a glass of straight vodka (he was buying people drinks all night) and just got slightly buzzed. Does this make sense? How come vodka doesn't get me drunker? It was an effing fun night.
I made my way back to my car a little sloshed, just a bit, while the cops watched me drive away (I managed to walk fairly steady, amazingly so, because I was wearing heels), and back to the house where I'm sitting for. I hit my head on the car door, almost fell in the lawn across the street, got stuck in the mud in the driveway they're repaving, and was almost attacked by the dog who smelled the vodka and probably wanted some himself.
Oh, must tell you about one of the obnoxious girls I'm 'friends' with. She knows everyone in the acting industry here, but she's not involved herself. She is very interested in photography, and she'll say soemthing on the grounds of 'teach me about taking photos,' like I can explain the fundamentals of photography in a half hour. Last night she came up and swooned over the drunk ass guy, saying how wonderful he was in the "big" movie he was in and proceeded to get autographs from everyone in the room, who were all too trashed to even understand what was going on. The girl is weird. This girl leaves comments on your facebook wall that look like this:
"Ohmygod, you are in a movie again?? What movie it is? Is so and so in it? I know him! What are you doing? Where are you going? Who is going with you? What time are you going? Are you still going to teach me about photography? I suck at it! Ohmygod! Message me about it! Thank you! I know we're going to be best friends forever!!! OMGWTFBBQ!"
And so on. She is the kind of friend I try to keep at arm's length. I was just staring at her in my slight vodka-y haze while she went around the room star struck (you would think she was at the bleeding oscars), just drooling and exclaiming. I think I laughed at her. She's in her thirties.
I guess I'm pretty intolerant, which sucks cause I hate intolerance and people who are judgemental and nosy. It's just so easy to become tiresome and exhausted.
I cannot hack into the internet at the house I'm sitting for, so I'm in a cafe, using my two-hour parking time wisely.
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"I would never want to belong to a club that would have someone like me for a member."
Jul. 23rd, 2009 | 02:49 pm
There's a place: my desk
I got a feeling: 
hyper
So I had a dream last night that I got a huge studio loft. You know what's weird? Every single time my parents are in my dream, we're always fighting, and they're always being really terrible and horrible, and that's not how it is in real life, but always in my dreams. Weird.
Today I go off to house/pet-sit (not for the woman whose chair I thought I ruined), but for someone else, and then I have to drive all the way back into the city and past to make an audition for this cafe, and then back downtown to this festival afterparty with some local filmmakers who made the movies I was in that played this week possible.
I'm about to get new headshots, and a photographer friend (not the one I flirt/makeout with), is going to take some new ones. She told me my look is seriously typecasting me, and that I look like a brit rocker, and I need to generalise my look a bit more. I have to agree with this, and I'm going to miss my look with my supershort black fringe, but that's what needs to be done. Nothing wrong with change. She says I can stay edgy, but not go so harsh. I can get away with it if I were in a band, or back in the UK or Europe, or as an artist/photographer, but trying to get hired for films and such...maybe that's why I keep getting cast in slashers/cults.
I've been watching way too much Woody Allen and haunted town clips on youtube, because the weather is so fall-ish. It's so nice and cool here.
Finally paid that last bit of my med bills from back in December. Feels nice to pay something off. If I ever become rich, or win the lottery, I wonder if I would pay off my student loan in one go, just so I wouldn't have the burden any longer.
I wish the people I'm housesitting for had a pool. A convict escaped yesterday in my neighbourhood, and that really put a damper on my powerwalking schedule. And I'm starting to miss my grandma a lot. This cool weather is really bringing back memories of last year; just getting whiffs of something in the air, remembering back last year when all that was going down.
Today I go off to house/pet-sit (not for the woman whose chair I thought I ruined), but for someone else, and then I have to drive all the way back into the city and past to make an audition for this cafe, and then back downtown to this festival afterparty with some local filmmakers who made the movies I was in that played this week possible.
I'm about to get new headshots, and a photographer friend (not the one I flirt/makeout with), is going to take some new ones. She told me my look is seriously typecasting me, and that I look like a brit rocker, and I need to generalise my look a bit more. I have to agree with this, and I'm going to miss my look with my supershort black fringe, but that's what needs to be done. Nothing wrong with change. She says I can stay edgy, but not go so harsh. I can get away with it if I were in a band, or back in the UK or Europe, or as an artist/photographer, but trying to get hired for films and such...maybe that's why I keep getting cast in slashers/cults.
I've been watching way too much Woody Allen and haunted town clips on youtube, because the weather is so fall-ish. It's so nice and cool here.
Finally paid that last bit of my med bills from back in December. Feels nice to pay something off. If I ever become rich, or win the lottery, I wonder if I would pay off my student loan in one go, just so I wouldn't have the burden any longer.
I wish the people I'm housesitting for had a pool. A convict escaped yesterday in my neighbourhood, and that really put a damper on my powerwalking schedule. And I'm starting to miss my grandma a lot. This cool weather is really bringing back memories of last year; just getting whiffs of something in the air, remembering back last year when all that was going down.
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A boring night
Apr. 4th, 2009 | 10:05 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: creative
So I went to the gallery opening of that guy I met a few weeks ago. Then I left. I just didn't feel like mixing.
I've been working more on my "novel." I have no idea if anyone would actually READ it. I have no idea what to do with it. I just keep writing and it's basically a combo of people I know and my own observations. Bleah.
I just dyed my hair black again. It was looking rather dull.
Nothing too interesting to report. Except I think I have a toast crumb stuck under the 'i' key on my keyboard, because I have to hit the 'i' key extra hard to get it to work. I eat at my laptop, which makes it rather messy.
Oh yeah, and I got my cheque. It's for rather less than I anticipated. But it will be OKAY. I just KNOW it. I can now pay my photographer friend with a mocha and buy some spagetti tomorrow. And I reaaally want that camera bag. And I can pay some bills monday.
By the way, I just LOVE my canon 30D. It is spectacularly grand to have equipment that works. I had a real estate shoot a few days ago and yesterday I got a call from the agent; she wanted me to call her because she had a question. Which made me panic. There was something in the tone of her voice. The first thing I think is: "Something is wrong. They HATE the pics. They're going to FIRE me and tell everyone what a shitty photographer I am." I finally get in touch with the other head agent and all they wanted to know is if I got a specific shot of the fountain. See, why do I always assume something is gonna be BAD, something's gone WRONG and it's MY fault?
And is it bad that I've watched this about three million times, accompanied by sexy/romantic music? Nah...
I've been working more on my "novel." I have no idea if anyone would actually READ it. I have no idea what to do with it. I just keep writing and it's basically a combo of people I know and my own observations. Bleah.
I just dyed my hair black again. It was looking rather dull.
Nothing too interesting to report. Except I think I have a toast crumb stuck under the 'i' key on my keyboard, because I have to hit the 'i' key extra hard to get it to work. I eat at my laptop, which makes it rather messy.
Oh yeah, and I got my cheque. It's for rather less than I anticipated. But it will be OKAY. I just KNOW it. I can now pay my photographer friend with a mocha and buy some spagetti tomorrow. And I reaaally want that camera bag. And I can pay some bills monday.
By the way, I just LOVE my canon 30D. It is spectacularly grand to have equipment that works. I had a real estate shoot a few days ago and yesterday I got a call from the agent; she wanted me to call her because she had a question. Which made me panic. There was something in the tone of her voice. The first thing I think is: "Something is wrong. They HATE the pics. They're going to FIRE me and tell everyone what a shitty photographer I am." I finally get in touch with the other head agent and all they wanted to know is if I got a specific shot of the fountain. See, why do I always assume something is gonna be BAD, something's gone WRONG and it's MY fault?
And is it bad that I've watched this about three million times, accompanied by sexy/romantic music? Nah...
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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.
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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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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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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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We all go a little mad sometimes
Oct. 15th, 2008 | 07:07 pm
There's a place: in outer space
I got a feeling: 
weird
Today was a weird day. Life is made up of lots of weird moments, but here and there, mostly not all at once. It started out fairly normal enough.
Was stood up by a potential client; it happens, and so I went for coffee instead. I forgot a pen so I did not spend the cafe time drawing or writing because I could not. I instead played the staring game. My mum can do this, also; for some reason, my family is kind of psychic or something. I can do this thing where I stare at someone and they get a feeling someone is staring at them, and I then look away as soon as they realise it. They look away or back down and I do it again. When I'm stuck in traffic I do it and it passes the time.
I go back to my car and I find I got a parking ticket. This happens. Only this time, the ticket is blank. The car description was right, the officer's name was there. No fee amount, no violation specifics. Weeeeird.
I later go to this networking/art thing. I get out of my car and a sketch I was planning to sell had gotten loose and escaped from the driver's side door, landing facedown in a puddle. Brilliant.
I go to the show and after the minutes pass, I feel like I'm having this out-of-body experience. I don't think it was the wine. I am seeing this art and these performances like I've already lived them. A poet was rambling on about racism and segregation and I wanted to tell her "get over it!" I'm just so politically incorrect like that. We've all been persecuted. Short people are persecuted. BLONDE people are discriminated against. Why does everyone have to be a victim? Does this happen only in the states? YES, it's terrible. But why do people dwell on it, on the past, a past that some people have never LIVED THROUGH. And I was just staring at her and she kept staring back and I felt like she KNEW what I was thinking. I decided to stay because they were giving a drawing at 7:30, and I noticed the ticket I had been holding to win something (which was the only reason I was STAYING) was no longer in my hand, so I decided to leave. I was looking at everyone with their stilettos and jeans, designer purses, all dressed up to be seen. Everyone protesting for the sake of protesting, everything for it's own sake; so "forward" and false, pointless and sureal. And I was yet so in tune with everything, like I was sussing people out subconciously, picking up on their motives and thoughts.
And I KNEW what that girl who looked like a skeleton pigging out at the buffet was going to do as soon as she set foot in the loo ten minutes later. Because that's what I want to do, but I can't make myself do it. They gave us rolling papers. I don't smoke so I gave mine away.
And I know that what you hate most about people is always a problem you possess, also.
When I got outside I still felt weird and managed to find my car. I white-knuckled my way home and I felt like I was on acid. But there was sadly no trippy colours involved.
I felt like everyone at the event was staring at me because they knew I was having those thoughts, and I was pretending to enjoy myself. I WANTED to. But I bitchily found everything I saw and heard bitterly passe and boring. Who the fuck am I to feel that way? I feel like everyone is going crazy and it's actually NOT me. Like this, for instance. And all day long, I've had this weird smell in my nose. No matter where I go, it's THERE.
I am glad I'm going out of town for a few days. This week I have been feeling like I've needed to remember to take breaths. I think I'm getting asthma.
Was stood up by a potential client; it happens, and so I went for coffee instead. I forgot a pen so I did not spend the cafe time drawing or writing because I could not. I instead played the staring game. My mum can do this, also; for some reason, my family is kind of psychic or something. I can do this thing where I stare at someone and they get a feeling someone is staring at them, and I then look away as soon as they realise it. They look away or back down and I do it again. When I'm stuck in traffic I do it and it passes the time.
I go back to my car and I find I got a parking ticket. This happens. Only this time, the ticket is blank. The car description was right, the officer's name was there. No fee amount, no violation specifics. Weeeeird.
I later go to this networking/art thing. I get out of my car and a sketch I was planning to sell had gotten loose and escaped from the driver's side door, landing facedown in a puddle. Brilliant.
I go to the show and after the minutes pass, I feel like I'm having this out-of-body experience. I don't think it was the wine. I am seeing this art and these performances like I've already lived them. A poet was rambling on about racism and segregation and I wanted to tell her "get over it!" I'm just so politically incorrect like that. We've all been persecuted. Short people are persecuted. BLONDE people are discriminated against. Why does everyone have to be a victim? Does this happen only in the states? YES, it's terrible. But why do people dwell on it, on the past, a past that some people have never LIVED THROUGH. And I was just staring at her and she kept staring back and I felt like she KNEW what I was thinking. I decided to stay because they were giving a drawing at 7:30, and I noticed the ticket I had been holding to win something (which was the only reason I was STAYING) was no longer in my hand, so I decided to leave. I was looking at everyone with their stilettos and jeans, designer purses, all dressed up to be seen. Everyone protesting for the sake of protesting, everything for it's own sake; so "forward" and false, pointless and sureal. And I was yet so in tune with everything, like I was sussing people out subconciously, picking up on their motives and thoughts.
And I KNEW what that girl who looked like a skeleton pigging out at the buffet was going to do as soon as she set foot in the loo ten minutes later. Because that's what I want to do, but I can't make myself do it. They gave us rolling papers. I don't smoke so I gave mine away.
And I know that what you hate most about people is always a problem you possess, also.
When I got outside I still felt weird and managed to find my car. I white-knuckled my way home and I felt like I was on acid. But there was sadly no trippy colours involved.
I felt like everyone at the event was staring at me because they knew I was having those thoughts, and I was pretending to enjoy myself. I WANTED to. But I bitchily found everything I saw and heard bitterly passe and boring. Who the fuck am I to feel that way? I feel like everyone is going crazy and it's actually NOT me. Like this, for instance. And all day long, I've had this weird smell in my nose. No matter where I go, it's THERE.
I am glad I'm going out of town for a few days. This week I have been feeling like I've needed to remember to take breaths. I think I'm getting asthma.
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What happened
Oct. 10th, 2008 | 10:29 pm
There's a place: my effing bed, punk
I got a feeling: 
cranky
I swore I was going to be productive today and promptly logged into my computer and started a job application at a local museum. Found a perfect entry level position available, go me! So I am filling out all the standard job applicant stuff, which is enough of a headache, and the pages just go on and on...and on and on...I was frowning at the ethical questions they were throwing my way via computer screen. "Do you think the youth of our age is doomed to burn in blazing eternal fires?" "Are you a sadist who must be right at all costs, and do you enjoy expressing these urges with whips and chains?" I might be exaggerating a BIT, but THOSE were the underlying meanings...and to make things WORSE:
They effing made me take an INTELLEGENCE test! Those shitty "If some pooples are crapples and most crapples are shittles, then how many shittles are pooples?" After I FINALLY got to submit the effing thing, I needed to rest. I should've gotten paid for going through it.
I later headed downtown for a free lecture and lo and behold, the building was closed. So I made my way back homeward where I went out to eat with mum and her friend. They didn't have any good vegetarian soup (I hatehatehate squash), so I ate a huge salad with a side of pineapple and melon whilst looking wistfully at my mum's friend's double chocolate ice cream mound.
I come home to find a spider hanging out at my doorway, wanting in. I killed one of it's posse on the wall a week or so ago, and evidently the spider fam has gotten wind of the homicide. I see these spiders in my doorway ALL THE TIME now, just waiting at the crack, about to dart in to hide and eventually crawl up my nose to eat my brains in the dead of night for being the bitch spider-smusher I am. Even if you swat them away, they just come back, and even if you stomp centemetres away from them, they just smirk and look the other way. Little arseholes.
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My night
Oct. 2nd, 2008 | 10:24 pm
There's a place: my living room
I got a feeling: rejected
This evening I went downtown to a lecture with an editor promoting a new book: great networking op. Left early because a friend was in town. So there I was with all these old friends from college (not THAT old!). All still talking about college things, the frats and the sororities. Some are still in school. I sat next to someone I used to be relatively close with (if that's possible with ME). She's still a crabby drama queen. And as I sat there, I realised that none of them have really changed. Still the same dramas, still the same talk about drinking, parties, the cliques. And I knew I had nothing in common with them, if I ever had. I was just bored as hell. And of course I didn't eat anything.
Afterward, most of them went off to do this kind of ritual thing with the frat/sorority, stuff I used to be begrudgingly involved in. I just went home and ate some beans on toast. I felt bad, because I forced myself to be cheerful and involved during the evening. And yet I was still out of touch. But then I was thinking about it: THEY'RE so effing out of touch and always WERE.
I'm not saying (or typing) this because I'm a bitch, really. I love my friends and wish them all the very best. But they were not willing to talk about anything of importance. Not about the debate tonight, or even that the moon looks extraordinary. This professor did this, I had this drink the other night, I want to be married now, etc. Even when I was still in school, I rolled my eyes at all the drama. Everyone is living in high school, and I know that some of these friends actually DO care about issues and NOT just about the latest university gossip. But they just choose not to divulge. Or maybe they really don't care. Or maybe it's because it's not polite table-talk. I am mystified. I guess I get along better with editors I have never met before.
And I wish I hadn't left the lecture early. I don't think any of them would have missed me.
"No man is an island" my ass.
Tomorrow: having fun midtown trying to be social again.
Afterward, most of them went off to do this kind of ritual thing with the frat/sorority, stuff I used to be begrudgingly involved in. I just went home and ate some beans on toast. I felt bad, because I forced myself to be cheerful and involved during the evening. And yet I was still out of touch. But then I was thinking about it: THEY'RE so effing out of touch and always WERE.
I'm not saying (or typing) this because I'm a bitch, really. I love my friends and wish them all the very best. But they were not willing to talk about anything of importance. Not about the debate tonight, or even that the moon looks extraordinary. This professor did this, I had this drink the other night, I want to be married now, etc. Even when I was still in school, I rolled my eyes at all the drama. Everyone is living in high school, and I know that some of these friends actually DO care about issues and NOT just about the latest university gossip. But they just choose not to divulge. Or maybe they really don't care. Or maybe it's because it's not polite table-talk. I am mystified. I guess I get along better with editors I have never met before.
And I wish I hadn't left the lecture early. I don't think any of them would have missed me.
"No man is an island" my ass.
Tomorrow: having fun midtown trying to be social again.
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I am a retard
Sep. 23rd, 2008 | 09:35 pm
There's a place: my bed
I got a feeling: 
embarrassed
LP at the moment: Led Zeppelin I
I've been webinar-ing and has thus gotten me into the networking craze that won't stop. I've been getting calls from people wanting me to work at their marketing co...only problem is, I'd basically be soliciting products. I learned that the hard way. "We could use you in our marketing depart., advertising this product." This means cold-calling and soliciting.
It's not fun to watch someone die of cancer closely. I don't recommend it.
Last night I did THE most humiliating thing. I was walking around midtown and saw someone I knew. The thing is, I thought he was someone else I knew...someone I worked with once who is rather famous. I DID know the guy sitting there, but he is the big man at a magazine I used to work for. He gently corrected me and I smiled goofily and made 5 agonising seconds of small talk, gathered up what was left of ANY confidence I had and made a beeline for my car. Idiot. HOW could I possibly lump the two people together like that? There is to be no success in MY life, when I can't even remember people. I can chalk it up to the massive amounts of stress I'm under with my whole family situation. Stupid, stupid stupid. The worst thing is, I am attending an event tomorrow...and there he will be.
I know we all have brain farts, and I'm always the first to laugh at myself and be stupid. And that magazine isn't THAT great in the first place. It's rather STUPID! But I didn't just burn this bridge; I lit it on fire and danced on it nekkid.
So basically I cried the whole way home from my stupidity, and then promptly broke out the saki.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
It's not fun to watch someone die of cancer closely. I don't recommend it.
Last night I did THE most humiliating thing. I was walking around midtown and saw someone I knew. The thing is, I thought he was someone else I knew...someone I worked with once who is rather famous. I DID know the guy sitting there, but he is the big man at a magazine I used to work for. He gently corrected me and I smiled goofily and made 5 agonising seconds of small talk, gathered up what was left of ANY confidence I had and made a beeline for my car. Idiot. HOW could I possibly lump the two people together like that? There is to be no success in MY life, when I can't even remember people. I can chalk it up to the massive amounts of stress I'm under with my whole family situation. Stupid, stupid stupid. The worst thing is, I am attending an event tomorrow...and there he will be.
I know we all have brain farts, and I'm always the first to laugh at myself and be stupid. And that magazine isn't THAT great in the first place. It's rather STUPID! But I didn't just burn this bridge; I lit it on fire and danced on it nekkid.
So basically I cried the whole way home from my stupidity, and then promptly broke out the saki.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.