Lifestyles of the penniless and obscure

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.

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.

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.

Okay, went for a few-day trip and it was nice. Despite the fact I went swimming and got stung repeatedly by something in the water and my wrist swelled up. I didn't go swimming again after that. All the lifeguards/first aid people were very impressed by it.

Met with that obnoxious, mothering friend of mine's "voice teacher." He's kind of a pimp. He dresses like a pimp, he acts like a pimp. He was with some chick about my age. He scarfed down all these chicken wings while we were talking. He was very touchy-feely. I'm not digging his way of doing things so far. Not to mention the fact that my friend is totally tone deaf. I'm not being mean. She really IS. She actually has a good voice, but it's never on pitch. I might just do some backup with the guy. I get very suspicious when people like that want to know about all the projects you're in, and seem really interested in what you do. I like to get hired and keep that part of my life professional until I actually get to KNOW the people.

And I should mention the fact that she wants to rent a freaking billboard (YES, BILLboard) with her (my) photo of her on it so I can "generate revenue." Oh. Lord. Now, there's being a friend. And there is BEING a FRIEND. Does this seem a little odd to you? It does me.

Thursday I shoot for a second day on a pretty effing big movie. The only hint I'll give you all is this: one of the people who was in GI JOE is in it. I've never seen GI JOE, I'm not going to see it, I don't go to the movies and I'm not impressed with "celebs." But I'm super happy this movie is going to be bigger than the stuff I've been doing lately. It's time to kiss some serious director/producer/casting director ASS. I'm good at that. At least I think I am. There's such a fine line between kissing ass the right way, and kissing ass obnoxiously.

I have huge blisters on my feet from these new shoes I got. I walked around and in about ten minutes, I couldn't walk anymore. They're nice leather and everything. I'm trying to stretch them out. Bastards. Tomorrow another real estate shoot. I HOPE I don't have to photoshop the clouds out. I mean, really? Who DOESN'T like clouds? I'll tell you: Al Quida.

Okay, so that slightly annoying, slightly mothering friend of mine is asking me how to sell photos online. I'm wondering if she's thinking of selling the pictures *I* took of her. I should let her know I could sue her ass. What do you think? Do you think a "model" (which she's NOT) should get a share? Should the "model" advertise MY pictures? No. And no.

I don't know why the hell I keep getting myself into stupid situations and keep contending with difficult people. The less I interact with this girl the better. Why why why? How should I tell her? She is trying to be so helpful to me. She bought me coffee when I had about $7 in my name.

Yesterday I did a real estate shoot. The women in charge were maniacally fussy. They made me photoshop the clouds out the sky in multiple pictures. I don't get paid by the hour. People suck. It's going to be lovely when I eventually quit.

Good things: today I had a meeting with a crew about to start filming a local television show, I got cast in another film, AND I got the part in the ensemble for the musical. Time to brush up on my dancing. Oh shit.

Tomorrow I go out of town for a few. It will be nice and peaceful. I'm still seriously hung over. The funny thing is, right after I was thinking how sick and hungover I was, I thought about finishing my wine from last night. I'm turning back into a wineo. I should bring it with me tomorrow.

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.

So this has been a busy week. I filmed for the webisode thing, the night before we filmed the slasher, where I got to die by getting my heart ripped out. Rather messy, all good fun. I stilll have sticky corn syrup in my car. It's a bitch when it gets everywhere. I am really looking forward to doing some real films sometime. I'm rather tired of zombie/splatter films. Especially when the director doesn't even say "rolling" when he's ready to film. Where is Martin Scorsese???

Speaking of which...today I was called to do a film I emailed about, only to get there and realise it was all highschoolers. I was hoping for Martin to show up. I think he's busy in L.A. and couldn't come...

I almost signed up with a new agency. Except that the agency has fees. And rule #1: never go with an agency that makes you pay. Even though the said agencies seem able to give you more work than the free agency you are already a PART of...I almost got in a jam, because I technically signed the contract. I was scared she was going to hold me to that. I'm stupid that way. People put a contract in front on me and I just automatically sign. Like those infomercials. Could be advertising the stupidest product ever and I'd want one.

About to do a photoshoot for my friend. She has recently submitted a book of photos I took of her to a contest, only for both of us to discover the venue we took the shots in makes you pay a $500 commercial fee. She's paying it. Mum told me not to feel guilty. I didn't even want to enter the photos in the contest. How come I still feel guilty?

There's a scene in Hannah and Her Sisters where the old guy, rhe curmudgeon and boyfriend to Barbra Hershy says to her, "I'm at a point in my life where I just can't be around people." Why must I constantly be in a Woody Allen movie?

I'm still trying to write every day. I can't write anything simple. Everything has to turn into a commentary on social issues, cultural stereotypes, religion and general allegory/metaphor.

A friend of mine is going back to London in October. She wants me to come and be her flatmate. I need some major cabbage to make this do-able.

And guess who got the snotty end of the phone line when I had to call a client who was pissed off because no one got back to her about a shoot she needed....a shoot that should've been given to ME by MY employer who doesn't check his sodding WEBSITE to see new ORDERS. Yup.

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.

Just now I learned that Yoko Ono has a twitter page. I mean, come on.

She is just that annoying pair of knickers that seems to be all nice and comfy, but once you get them on, they start riding up your buttcrack in a very irritating, unsexy way. And you have to adjust them all day, because they're bunching and riding.

And I have never understood the appeal of twitter. I could never find a way to look someone up, find out their agenda for the week so I can stalk them (which is why I like facebook).

Besides my photoshoot today, I didn't get a single effing thing accomplished. Mum's friend called me and tried to set me up with a client of hers. No thanks.

I don't like setups. What REALLY annoys is when I find out after a meeting that someone might want to go on a date with me, but they've told my friend that had been with us instead of me. This is not highschool, people. If you like me, tell me. Not like this happens a lot, though...

In other news, my employer still hasn't paid me. It's been months now. I think it would be surpremely fun to drive out to his nice house and leave something on his doorstep, like a fish wrapped in newspaper, or a can of baked beans smeared on his doormat. You have no idea how fun and amusing this would be to me. Or put something smelly in his mailbox, or a decapitated doll. Something to send a message that says 'Pay me. Or I'll go medieval on your ass.' I don't care HOW married he is or if he has more kids than Brad and Angelina and Madonna combined. Maybe I'll take one of them hostage.

Okay, so we're back at square one again, and the cycle just goes round and round. Waiting for yet another paycheck from my employer, who owes me for 17 photoshoots and two wedding shoots. I shot him an email today. I'm starting to no longer feel bad about having to remind people to pay me. I'm growing balls, people. And they get bigger every day.

My car was in the shop today so I have to go to the audition I had planned today tomorrow instead. This weekend will hopefully be full of shooting for a film, directed by someone I have already worked with, so my chances are good; just waiting for the "you're in" call...

Tomorrow: looking over the kinky script of yet another slasher I'm in this month, where every page of script is strewn with makeout scenes, trying to makeout with someone scenes, and full-out, slasher-goodness sex scenes that result in the sex-ees dying because they HAD sex. Those are the rules, by the way. No, I'm not in any sex scenes, but I have a feeling my character is implied as participating in such activities. I don't mind being slashed in a movie, not at all. I am now completely convinced that my career will result in me becoming the next great B-movie, cult-classic queen. This makes me feel a mixture of pride and kink.
 

It'll just be a matter of time before I'll be calling up Richard O'Brian and John Waters.

I was SUPPOSED to get more headshots done, but the photographer (who had, at the time I was trying to make it as a photographer, kicked my ass and told me how it was, giving me enough balls-which I had NOT at the time-to even TRY) hasn't called me back. She's a famous, local photographer whom most people do not like because of her blunt honesty and her kick-your-ass competitive approach. Which is why I love her.

So a friend of mine is going to be homeless. The whole situation is very sad. He has a few ideas that actually involve me renting a studio space and splitting the cost. Mixed feeling about this.

I don't like not having a car.

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.

Okay, first off, I skipped the audition yesterday and instead went to Starbucks. Today I worked 13 fucking straight hours without food, water or peeing. Or sitting down very often. I had some drinky and hershey kisses at the wedding so I wouldn't pass out. I am so effing tired and I hate shooting weddings. My employer basically threw his back out, so I was next in line. He came along, but basically left a lot of the hard stuff to me and the second shooter. It's okay, cause I need the money. I have to pay for the glass I broke, my friend's lens I scratched (she didn't have a filter on it, so I don't really feel it's completely my fault) and a few some odd bills I'm  late on. I'm housesitting in two weeks for the same Dick Clark woman from way back (the one whose chair I thought I ripped). I am seriously a jinx lately. Today during the ceremony, the priest passed out, or fell down, I don't know, AND I saw this fish swimming in this glass thing at the reception, and I walked over to it and it fucking stopped moving. It just floated there. I thought I killed the fish by LOOKING at it.

Later on, though, he started moving a bit again. Maybe he's just dying. And my lens tonight was acting all funky. I swear, it's one thing after another, and each day that goes by, I do more damage and owe more money. I need to spend a few days in bed with the covers pulled over my head and hope it passed.

In other news, I got a "new" purse at the thrift store; a lovely, heavy duty throw-everything-into-it shoulder bag that might just be usable as an overnight bag, but I can definetely get use out of it with books, scripts, clothes and crap. Plus, it had pockets. Everything is going to hell, but at least I have a gear bag.

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.

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 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...

Okay, so yesterday I went to the camera store and did a trade-in thing with my canon 20D and paid a little less than $300 (put on my credit card) for a canon 30D. Because I'm tired of malfunctions and I need something I can rely on. After all, this is my JOB. It's not good when your equipment doesn't work.

Today I'm going to the park to see my little "neice." Neice is in quotations because she's technically my cousin. I'm bringing my new camera to make sure there's nothing wrong with THIS one, either. My cheque had better come today or I'm gonna crack some skulls.

As soon as it does and I'm able to put a little moolah in my gas tank, I'm promptly going out and getting another job and I don't care what it is.

As far as paying gigs go, the only thing I have lined up is this thing at the medical school, where I'll be playing a patient going in for tests and the med students do a physical. You get paid extra the more in-depth the physical you allow them to do. They can dissect my brain for all I care, I need the cash. Beside the money thing, the other reason I'm doing it is because the woman in charge is basically in charge of casting EVERYTHING in my city.

Just heard the post and my cheque did not come. This is bollocks. I think I'm way too nice.

Okay, it was damn lucky to have brought my other camera last night to the fashion show, because my canon, yet again, was doing the underexposure thing...but only backstage. During the actual show under bright lights it was fine. Figure that out. Sooo...

Everyone tells me it's the incompatibility between the canon body and the non-canon lenses I use (which are famously canon-friendly by the canon-carrying crowd).

So tonight for the awards show I'm gonna borrow a canon lens to see if it still happens. If it does, I'm going to go back to the store I bought it from and ask them to upgrade to a newer model body and pay (with the money I don't have) a little more. The bastards sold me equipment that malfunctions. I have no idea what to do. I paid everything I had for that canon, and I mean everything. AND...

The ciggy lighter in my car is broken. I don't smoke, but I DO plug in Suzie the gps. The little thingy that pops out of the hole kinda fell apart, and I tried to put it back together and pop it back in the hole. But it didn't pop; it went right THROUGH the hole and down in the innards of the middle dash. So I can't plug in my gps to get me anywhere.

Things are just going mad. I swear. Everything is malfunctioning. Is somebody trying to TELL me something? Maybe.

I am just hoping/wishing/praying my cheque comes today. He owes me for two months, you guys. Last night I saw a stylist girl with exactly the kind of medium-sized bag I want for my camera. But her bag was a fishing bag! It didn't look anything like a fishing bag, and she used it for her style products. I think that's gear.

So, I just don't know what to do with myself. I need a side job, now. It seems no-body is hiring, and I'm just gonna have to find something quick.

NOT going to the film thingy tomorrow unless a miracle happens. I don't have the moolah to dish out for gas to get down there.

So I'm gonna get slightly shitfaced tonight at the afterparty and drown all me sorrows in the drinky.

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.

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.