Can't We Go Back to the Barter System?

Ayiyiyi. Miss E just almost had a mini breakdown after looking at her bank statement. But she took a glass of shiraz out onto the fire escape and calmly collected herself. I have never had this little money. This is the first month in a very long time where my expenses are higher than my income. And it sucks. I debated over writing about my finances on this blog, but know it’s a common thing that most artists stress about and we all know that misery loves company.

I live in a pint size apartment that costs over $2000 a month. And that’s considered a good deal. But this is the life I chose so I can’t really complain. What I need is a budget. No more impulse spending, no more (ok less) clothing shopping, and most of all no more expensive restaurants where we rack up liquor bills that would make our mothers cry. Yes, this is the solution. I need a budget.

But I can feel a small fury rising up inside me. I don’t want to have to worry about money during the summer! I want to be able to sip my $10 mojitos on the sidewalk of some quaint café while relaxing in a new summer dress. I want a vacation! I want to buy new books from the bookstore so I don’t have to use those gross grimy ones on the New York City Public Library shelves (I normally love libraries but the books in the ones I’ve been to here in the city are sooo dirty). I want to be able to order Thai whenever I want instead of making dinner at home (because let’s be honest, most of the time my cooking tastes only slightly better than salted cardboard).

I have to quell the toddler inside of me and think realistically. But it’s hard when I can hear Manchester United fans chanting their war song (even though they lost to Barcelona) across the street at a pub. I don’t even watch soccer and I want to go join them! I don’t want to miss out on the fun. So here’s what I’m going to do. . . . become a stripper.

Wait, but that would require me to take my clothes off so that’s not going to work. Drug dealer? No, I’ve watched too many Locked Up Abroad Episodes to get into that. Sell a kidney on the black market? I only need one of those right? The only thing I can do is subdue my spending. Ok, a budget it is. I think I’m already on the right track. After all, my shiraz is a Two Buck Chuck.

I Need an Adventure!

I look at my life now and wonder where all the adventure went. Ok, that’s not really true. I did after all have a very eventful weekend that involved sunbathing (with SPF of course- SIDENOTE: ALL of you need to be wearing at least SPF 30 every single time you’re in the sun and I don’t want to hear any excuses. Last summer after only spending 4 days in the sun with SPF 15, I got pre-melanoma. Yeah, that should scare you.) Right, so on with it. My weekend involved sunbathing, jazz bands, ping-pong, amazing Cuban food, even better Mojitos, and a missing BF (as in I couldn’t find him at 6:30am).

So yeah, it was eventful. But I do seem to remember back in the day when I was taken in for questioning at Heathrow because I jokingly said I was a gypsy (hey, the damn customs guy kept asking me stupid questions so I was just trying to lighten him up a bit), spending the night in a Dublin prison (by my own choice, thank you very much), playing with snakes, and dancing on bars singing my heart out to Shut Up by the Black Eyed Peas while scanning the club for my ex-French boyfriend. (whom will now be referred to in this blog as TBFD (The Big French Douche).

I miss those adventures. And I can’t for the life of me figure out why I don’t have them anymore. Is it because I’m more stationary in my home now with less flexibility for travel? Is it because I now have a serious BF and am not always on edge wondering what’s happening with TBFD? Or is it simply because I’m maturing? I’m not sure, but I am making a pledge to live it up this summer. Prepare yourself for some craziness. Of course it will have to happen in-between filming a short, play rehearsals, performances and the part time job, but I will make it happen! I will not let me sleeping in jail be the last eventful thing in my life. PREPARE YOURSELVES!!!

Business Woman E?

Apologies for my lack of posts this week. I've needed the week to soak up the sunshine and try to thaw out after a long and cold winter. Apparently sun makes you tired and lazy too. The only thing that sucks about laying out on rooftops around here is that there is no body of water to go play in. I just looked at my calendar and the soonest I could go on a vacation is the middle of August. Three months away. Let's hope I can make it.

Thursday evening I went to a SAG seminar about how to market yourself to agents and casting directors. It was great to go to but ended up being a bit overwhelming. Simply because they pointed out several times that making it as an actor has very little to do with talent. It's all about who you know, how you market yourself, and your ability to sell tickets. And that's pretty annoying, but I suppose it's true.

The speaker pointed out that every year 60,000 new actors flood the market trying to make it. 97% of those actors leave the business within three years. She also said that the big "boobie trap" for many actors is that if you think you're talented (which of course all us do) then you don't spend enough time on the business side of things because you think talent will be enough. She then went on to say that we're all different shoes and if someone already has a pair of red patent leather pumps then they're going to be looking for the sneakers instead. But someone will eventually want those red pumps. At this point I turned to the girl next to me as exhasperatedly exclaimed, "But I don't know what shoe I am! I think I might be fringe mocasins."

All in all, I suppose I need to really start honing in on the business side of things. Who knew I would become a business woman? Not today though. Today I am heading over to Water Taxi Beach- New York City's version of a beach. Of course, the water is toxic and blocked off by a fence, but you get the general idea.

Lazy

I know I need to get stuff done, but I can’t concentrate on anything except how badly I want to go outside and take a nap in Union Square Park. I hate the winters in New York so much that every year I swear I’m moving, but then spring comes along and makes me fall in love with it all over again. I did write my agent cover letters and go to the grocery store after the part time job yesterday so I haven’t been too completely lazy, right? RIGHT??? Ok, fine. I’m lazy. But it’s warm out and I’m allowed to be. Plus, I have broken blood vessels in my arm from the heavy ass grocery bags so I think I should allow myself a day off.

This is the problem with me. Instead of actually enjoying said day off, I am sitting here trying to justify in my blog why I deserve not to do anything. I get so riddled with anxiety by not doing anything that I end up more exhausted than if I had actually done it. Then again, I am still at my part time job so maybe I should actually be working. Nah, it’s overrated. Plus, I need to google why my kitten pooped next to the litter box this morning instead of in it. Enjoy the weather peeps!

Out of the Sandbox

The muscle porn party momentarily distracted me from telling my blog readers my good news! I got into a new play entitled, Out of the Sandbox which is to be performed at the Midtown International Theatre Festival this July. Yay! Since TV/film slows down a bit in the summer, I am happy to spend my summer days pouring my heart out on the stage. I forsee a fabulous summer in the works.

Muscle Porn?

Ready for bizarro event number two of the weekend? So, Saturday night I was booked to work at an afterparty for the New York Muscle show. I could use the extra money, so why not? It would be basic drink serving/catering stuff. I walk into a beautiful building and go up to the floor where the party is to take place and gasp in amazement. What is this place? Rooms upon rooms unfold with beautiful carpeting, gold décor, stunning mirrors, and plush velvet couches. It feels as if I stepped right into the house of a wealthy official in the Victorian ages.

I was quickly put to work, organizing a couple bars, setting out champagne, etc. when curiosity got the best of me. I asked the person in charge what the place was and he responded in a low voice:

Him: “Do you want the truth?”
Me: “Um, yeah. I like truth.”
Him: “They shoot soft core porn here.”
Me: “What?!”
Him: “Yeah these muscle guys are all into porn. Don’t tell anyone (oops) but their wives all pimp them out for porn.”
Me: “Wait, so the people coming to this party tonight . . . they’re all like porn stars?”
Him: “Pretty much.”

And my night began.

For the first half of the night I stayed in the kitchen area and made bff’s with the cook and helped him chop meat (because muscle porn stars clearly don’t eat anything except for meat). After that was done however, I could avoid the party no longer and I turned around from the kitchen area to scope everyone out. These muscles were unreal. And not in a good ‘wow he’s hot’ kinda way. More like ‘ewww, gross, don’t touch me’ way. Although I’m sure some people are into that kind of thing so I’m not here to judge. While I was busing tables in my tight black skirt and tight black low cut top, the pick up lines began. And I kid you not- every single one of them was, “Do you work out?”

No, no I do not work out. Especially not to your standards. I live in a four story walk up and speed walk so fast that a cop two weeks ago told me to slow down. As if he was going to give me a ticket for walking over the speed limit. By the end of the day, I am beat because the city is my gym. If I can muster enough energy up for yoga then I go bend myself into awkward positions and sweat like a cow for an hour, but I doubt you can relate to that. I don’t think your muscles are very elastic-y and I’m positive all of you are on steroids. So in answer to your question, no I do not work out, no I do not want to be in a porn with you, and though I’m sure you are quite nice I’m kinda pissed that you just ate half the meat platter that I spent an hour putting together so I am going to kindly extract myself from this situation. And scene.

But in all seriousness, these people were all really nice. I was informed that I was in the presence of muscle royalty, many of whom flew in from Paris, Brazil, Spain, and other exotic countries just for this Muscle event. It was hilarious overhearing their conversations about everyone- “naw, he can only bench 350,” “she definitely has ass cheek implants,” “Is there some new all natural drug that’s replacing steroids I can get on?” and then the best of all came from a guy from Paris who started speaking in French, “I’ll do a naked video again, but only if my buddy Jose can join me.”

Right. Muscle porn. This is my life. And I have to admit, I actually liked the weirdness of the whole night. It made things a bit more interesting. The other people I was working with were all awesome and combined with the eccentric strangeness of everything, I ended up having a lot of fun. And now I can say that I have met the muscle porn elite of the world. It doesn’t get much better than that ;)

I hate Hate

I don’t understand why there is so much hate in the world. I also don’t understand why people who preach peace and love are some of the worst culprits. Today there was a huge same-sex marriage rally in Times Square. Across town on the east side were blocks of thousands of people shouting slurs against gays and shaking their bibles in the air. It made me so angry. I realize people have different opinions and views and that not everyone is going to agree all the time, but there is absolutely NO reason to resort to heckling and hate. It shows complete irony that these very people shouting anti-gay slurs were the ones shaking their bibles in the air. In case they forgot, in their view God created everyone with love so their argument is counterintuitive. If God created someone as a homosexual then that is obviously what he wants them to be. So these people are essentially arguing against their own god.

And then there was Obama’s commencement speech at Notre Dame. While he stood there talking about how there needed to be understanding and an open conversation on both sides of the abortion issue, some people resorted to heckling and calling him a murderer. Shouting and name-calling is not going to help anyone understand the other side. Maybe if people could learn to sit down and talk to each other like civilized beings we could be a much more peaceful people. But, looking around at all the war around the world, that seems like it may be too much to ask for.

Unexpected Eggs

Remember when I wrote that I always seem to find myself in the oddest of situations? Case in point- yesterday I stopped by the grocery store (a very rare occasion in and of itself) to pick up some essentials for the weekend: Mac & Cheese, bread, yogurt and as a treat to myself some juicy ripe strawberries. As I fumbled with the items in my arms (because of course I didn’t pick up a cart) I pass someone who smiles at me oddly and I head towards to check out line. Two seconds later the smiling lady tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hi! I’m from the New York Post and we’re doing an article on the rising prices of eggs. Would you mind posing for a picture with some eggs?”

Umm, of course I wouldn’t mind! Any opportunity for a newspaper to take my photo is very much welcomed. Even if it is in a grocery store with no make-up on and unwashed hair. We proceed to the egg isle with the photographer in tow and I pose for various photos looking angry/confused/intensely at the eggs. The photographer met each pose with, “Oh yes, that’s the one! There you go! Keep it going!”

Yes, this is correct. I had an impromptu photo shoot in the middle of the grocery store. Then I gave my two cents on rising prices of eggs (which is actually kinda insane since they apparently went up by 50% this month), was handed a business card with well wishes and promises to keep in touch, and I was off. Who knew that going to the grocery store offered so many opportunities?! I should have started going long ago! The cool thing is that the reporter said if I have any feature films coming out then to give her a call and she’d do an article about them. Yay for grocery store contacts! If the egg article made the cut then it should be in the paper today. I’ll be sure to buy a copy.

In other news, I had an intimidating audition in front of 50 people on Wednesday for a NYC theatre festival. I was called back for one of the plays yesterday and today I had my second audition with them. It was AWESOME! It was held in the Equity building (theatre union) which is a scary place, but as soon as I got into the audition room I felt right at home. They said my performance was exactly what they were looking for, that I nailed it and they would hopefully be in touch. Whether I get it or not, it feels great to rock an audition.

The weird thing about the egg photoshoot is that I actually didn't find it odd at all. It was just another day in the life. Albeit a very strange life.

The Essence of You

If you’re ever feeling down about yourself just ask a bunch of your friends what your “essence” is. I am attempting to start a marketing plan for myself and part of the process is to figure out what I exude when I first walk into a room. I sent emails out to several people and as usual, my friends and family were the ones to respond. What I received was quite different than what I thought I would get.

I suppose I see myself much differently than other people do. I thought I was an emotionally conflicted, anxiety ridden, dark and brooding girl with deep foreboding emotions. But apparently everyone thinks quite the opposite:

Energetic (this one was the most popular), Fun, Passionate (got a bunch of these), Bubbly (may have tied with passionate), Poised, Confident, Determined, Fun-loving, Bright-eyed (love that one), Insightful, Understanding, Free spirit (SO true), Kind soul, Most wonderful thing on the planet, HOT SEX (no the person who wrote this does not know me like that), Love, Compassion, Opened bottle of champagne, Enthusiasm, Excitement, Spirit, Vibrant, Effervescent, Vivacious, Vulnerable, Endearing

A very insightful one from NG: “An organic bubble of ceaseless yet carefully manipulated energy.”

And then the sweetest one of all from Tee: “You endear other people to you because your essence glows a welcoming, effervescent quality, which is simply contagious. Those around can't help but catch your bubbly enthusiasm for life. I feel more alive or "aware" of the beauty of life when I'm around you. You appreciate the small pleasures in everyday life, and you still get excited about everyday things. I love that about you.”


Wow. Way to boost up my ego a bit! But at the same time, I wonder why so few people see the dark side of me. I actually lost a role once because the director said I had too positive of an ambiance for the role of a dying girl. Not because of my acting, because of my ambiance. What is that? Why can’t these people see me when I’m writhing on the floor listening to R. Kelly and holding my heart because it’s broken for the millionth time? Or when the BF has to carry me out of the bathtub because I can’t breathe from crying so hard? How do I come off so differently?

I think it’s because I actually do have such a positive outlook on life that sometimes other people’s negativity overwhelms me to the point of breaking down. Every single one of those adjectives is correct. I have such high hopes for life, such passion, energy and determination that by the time I get home at the end of the day, sometimes I’m exhausted. And that’s when the negativity comes in. That’s when people’s past comments leak into my mind- “You’re never going to make it,” “You are going to fail,” “That wasn’t good enough,” “You’re too young,” “You’re too old,” “You’re not pretty enough,” “You didn’t make the cut,” “If you haven’t made it by now, you never will.” When you’re exhausted and have been rejected time and again, it’s hard to ignore all of that. It’s enough to make even the most positive of people break down.

But I’m a strong enough person to not let it stop me. Or maybe I should say crazy enough. But I’d rather live imprudently believing my dreams can come true than to live in someone else’s idea of “the real world.”

Now how am I possibly going to put all of this into a marketing plan? We are all paradoxes. Walking contradictions. How can you put just one label on who you are?

Surviving Survival Jobs

I’m closing my eyes and clicking my heals together whispering, “I wish I were home, I wish I were home, I wish I were home. . .” Nope, still in this damn cubicle. I don’t know why I still have this part time job. I am an awful employee. I suck at administrative stuff (filing, alphabetizing, making phone calls), I am always late, I apply to acting jobs the whole time I’m here, and I constantly sneak out for auditions. (Boss, if you’re reading this, I’m totally just kidding. . . I’m an awesome employee and would never use company time to my own advantage ;) )

I know my Mom is probably shaking her head at this blog entry and thinking, “Oh E, don’t write anything that could get you fired” but the truth of the matter is that I have been trying to get fired for two years now and have come to realize that there is nothing I can do that would make them get rid of me. I really am grateful for this job- though the pay is shit, it’s just enough to cover my rent and I actually get health insurance. I don’t know any other actresses at my level with health insurance so I should hold onto it as long as I can. The problem is that it is soul sucking. I am not meant to sit in a cubicle. I’m just not. That’s not to say that I look down on those who are- there are plenty of wonderful people who would rather be nowhere else. I’m just not one of them. I need sunshine. I need air. I need more than this awful fluorescent lighting.

I mean, honestly a ten year old could do this job. Again, I am grateful for it . . . I would rather do this than bartend to a bunch of horny assholes, but I’d also rather not have to do any of it. I’m sick and tired of all of us actors having these dumb survival jobs. For goodness sakes, I’m working at an after party for the NYC Muscle Show Saturday night. A muscle show. If I told my highschool self that this is what I would be doing, I would have cracked up and assured this crazy person from the future that I am a straight A student in all AP classes. But sadly, being an artist is not particularly socially acceptable if you haven’t made it yet so we are reduced to brainless jobs that work around our crazy artist schedules.

But I’d still rather be doing this than working a 9-5 in some stuffy corporate job. Again- if that’s your cup of tea then all the more power to you. It’s just not my particular drink of choice. I’m more of a tequila type of gal.

Letting Go

This past Sunday I sold my clothes for money. Those of you who know me know that it is very difficult for me to part with clothes. I think I finally got rid of my middle school stuff a few years ago and it became clear when I moved into my tiny but amazing apartment a couple months ago that it was time to part with the highschool clothing as well. It’s difficult for me to part with clothes because they have so many memories attached to them. I’ve mentioned before that I feel I’ve lived half a dozen different lives and sometimes it’s hard to remember who I am within all that craziness. It’s tricky to connect the dots. But the one thing that always remains constant are the clothes that have traveled with me throughout my ventures in Europe, the UK, and America.

One dress reminds me of starring in highschool plays, a jacket reminds me of my first college boyfriend, a sweater reminds me of an amazing trip to Italy, a tank of my drunken fiascos in Ireland, a skirt that I had my first NYC audition in, a pair of pants that I met my French ex in, and the list goes on and on and on. I have had so many different lives which I want to remember but I find the memories slipping away as time goes on. My clothes keep the stories alive. I can tell you where I accumulated every single piece of clothing that I have. From underwear and scarves to jeans and fancy dresses. Everything tells a story.

But when a couple of my friends told me they were having a sidewalk sale in Williamsburg for the clothes they were getting rid of, I sighed and realized it was time for me to join in.

They brought AMAZING brand named clothing. I brought the discounted bin of old tanks. I think I even threw in a couple socks and a bra. And even those were hard to part with. I sold everything for .50 to a dollar and I had sellers remorse each time someone bought something. I made $25 and my friends made over $200. It made me realize how much CRAP I have accumulated throughout the years. Things that I don’t even wear anymore but I still can’t part with. I need to go through my closet again and purge some more. Maybe even part with some of my semi- nice things that I don’t wear anymore. It’s time to cut the emotional ties and make room for new clothes along with new memories. Sometimes it’s just so hard to let go.

Union Schmoonuin

I have turned down so much work lately because it is non-union and I’m not allowed to do it since I’m in SAG (the Screen Actors Guild). Before I just let it go as something I would have to get used to, but I’m starting to get annoyed. Don’t get me wrong, I love my union but we have been working WITHOUT a contract for almost a year now! Many producers do not want to deal with SAG right now since they are still in negotiations, so they are going to the far less expensive and drama free world of non-union. (Okay, not really drama free- that’s a bit of an oxymoron when it comes to actors.) But the clincher for me is that I’ve been offered PAID non-union work and I still have to turn it down. Yes, I could do it and hope no one noticed, but the possible repercussions are not worth it. This is my career we are talking about.

I just had to vent a bit. I feel much better now. Thank you my loyal readers for putting up with my bitching. Let’s hope SAG negotiations can come to a close soon so we can all get back to work. Meanwhile, I guess I should get started on those mailings . . .

Rain Rain Go Away

I have so much to do that I don’t know where to even start. Do a headshot mailing to Agents and Casting Directors, send postcards to current contacts, harrass a photographer to get me a CD of images from a photoshoot I had three weeks ago, buy Backstage, apply to acting jobs, pay my Sprint bill, figure out why I only have $300 in my checking account, cash a check from the wine job on Monday, review my taxes which I think were filed incorrectly, reply to a bunch of emails, clean my incredibly messy aparment, come up with a plan for my vintage clothing collection, work on marketing plan for acting, pull clothes for sidewalk sale on Sunday, stay awake at my part time job . . . No wonder I usually just give up and grab a beer. No matter how much you try to get done, more stuff always piles on. It just never stops raining.

Yesterday was a lot of fun- I had a photoshoot where I played a young artistic Mom. I had a baby 6 mo old, a three year old, and a 5 year old. Apparently, I’ve been getting busy in the past five years. The kids were adorable until they started crying. The 6 mo old would start and then the three year old would chime in and I’m trying to bounce them around to calm them down all while attempting to look good for the camera. I’m not sure those images are going to come out that great . . . but I got paid, so whatev. The five year old was a different story. He was the most handsome 5 year old I have ever seen (though he quickly informed me that he already had a girlfriend that he planned on marrying) and he was so well behaved. This little boy loved the camera and I knew with conviction that he will indefinitely succeed in showbiz.

After the shoot, I took my made up ass home and contrary to true E style curled up with my cats and slept for two hours. It was wonderful.

Where are all the Auditions?

I just realized that it’s already Wednesday and I haven’t been on a single audition this week, nor do I have any scheduled for the rest of the week. What is going on? Where is all the work? Oh, that’s right. We’re in a recession. And SAG still hasn’t officially renewed our contract which expired in June. Oh, and the damn Vice President or our country told people to avoid the SUBWAYS so people are scared to death of the so called swine flu and staying at home. Come on guys, get over it. It’s the freakin flu. Yes, I know it’s dangerous in Mexico and all but the strain here has mutated and is less potent. You will not die. You will be sick for a week and then go about your normal life knowing that you are one of the lucky few that will probably be immune the next time it comes around. So take off your face masks, ride the subway, and write me something to star in!

Haven’t you heard that I go bizerk when I haven’t acted in a few days! I don’t even care if you cast me. I just want to pretend for 2 minutes that I’m a valium ridden housewife with a gay husband or that I’m a young 20 something talking about getting high at a job interview. This is the stuff that I live off of! Please, just give me a moment to act like a complete psycho and then pat me on the back and tell me how great of a psycho I am so I feel validated in life. PLEASE.

No, I will not take my top off for you in the audition room so don't ask.

Champagne is Exhausting

I am so incredible stressed out with my million and one jobs right now. I spent the day yesterday sipping $200 champagne and though that may sound like the best day in the world to most of you, it was exhausting. Because not only was I sipping, I was pouring at a trade event. Put hundreds of wine professionals in a room together and pop the good stuff and you’ve got close to a riot on your hands. And I was the only one manning this particular expensive champagne table. I can’t believe how greedy people can be when they sense free expensive stuff . . . then again if I was on the other side of the table, I probably would have stomped down a few people as well.

So after being on my feet yesterday for 7 hours and left with a painful throbbing in my right arm, I made my way home to our babies . . . oh right. I forgot to mention that I adopted another kitten this weekend. Because I’m insane. I saw her online during my insomnia battle Friday night and fell in love immediately so on Saturday morning I rushed over to the animal shelter and adopted her right away. Boy was the BF surprised when I came home with another cat . . . but he already loves her. She’s so tiny- only about 7 inches long- a real baby . . . well a real cat baby anyway.

So yesterday after rushing home (stopping by a bar first to grab a beer with the BF because clearly after pouring expensive champagne all day what one really needs is a beer), I tried to get some work done and promptly felt my eyelids drooping. It only took me about an hour to fall asleep last night (mainly because I was worried about the kittens who have gross ear mites) but when I did, I was out. Which is awesome because I finally slept, but not so awesome because I didn’t get any work done last night. I still need to write three articles for http://www.winetrailtraveler.com/ about another wine event I attended on Sunday, send in photos from the event yesterday to different wine company I work for, plan this damn company craft fair which is tomorrow, go to an “acting as business” seminar tonight, print out labels for the candles I made, look over a script for a recent film I got in, do a million other things, and somewhere in the mix try to exfoliate and pluck tonight since I have a photoshoot on Thursday. I’m exhausted.

Man, I wish I had kept some of that champagne from yesterday.



PS- Where in the world do some of these men that I meet get their manners?!?! Yesterday I got everything from an older man inviting me back to his hotel room to "pour champagne in his mouth", to another one asking me out and then retorting, "Fuck your boyfriend" to another saying that because I work in the wine industry I must be promiscuous! What is wrong with people? I will never understand men like that. Never.

Insomnia again

This insomnia thing is really starting to get to me. I just don't get it. I barely slept a wink last night and it's after 5am and I'm not even tired. What is wrong with me?! I've been uploading pictures of my kitten on facebook. On a Friday night. With nothing to drink. This is so unlike me.

On another note, the film I saw a Tribeca was awesome. More to come on that later.

Dance dance dance!

I am on such a high right now. I just got back from one of the funnest (is that a word?) auditions I’ve ever had. And here’s the thing- it was for dance. That’s right folks, E went to a dance audition and actually liked it! I try to avoid dance auditions at all costs because though I have the passion I do not have the technique. I excel in clubs, not in front of a ballet mirror. But today was different. It was for a movement group that does amazing performance art and they wanted to see passion. I was even actually asked to stay for the second round! It was so cool.

During the audition, I asked the choreographer if she could help me on the next round because I was not a dancer and “had no idea what I was doing.” She and the artistic director both exclaimed, “No, you’re doing great! We had no idea you weren’t a dancer!” I was shocked and it gave me the confidence to really be into what I was doing the next round instead of worrying about what they were thinking. I probably shouldn’t have told them I wasn’t a dancer though, Oh well. I doubt I’ll be cast because there are only two female roles and there were many many girls who were all professional and amazing, but I’m so glad I went.

I’m off the to the Tribeca Film Festival in a bit to see a documentary about actresses. Should be interesting. Hopefully it won’t be too depressing.

I took Tylenol PM Two Hours Ago and Feel NOTHING

Why is it that I can never sleep when I’m exhausted? I gave up ambien two whole months ago (because the BF and my friend K said I was addicted to the hallucinations and had an intervention- something my doctor said was impossible, the evil little pill pusher) and I have worse insomnia than before I was on it. I’ve been downing Tylenol PM all this week and think I’ve only been out a total of 8 hours within three days. I really need to sleep too since I have a three hour audition tomorrow that involves choreography which I am not especially gifted in.

Growing up, my mom always knew when I was overtired not just from my temper tantrums and sensitivity but because everything started looking hopeless. I would become intensely aware of how tiny I was in a world so big. That’s how I feel now. Like I keep pushing and trying and digging and every time I burrow out a section of ground, a bit of dirt falls back in.

I know that the only reason I feel like this is because I’m overtired and can’t sleep, the BF got his repaired Xbox in the mail so I’m already feeling neglected (God, I wish that thing would break for good), and my kitten refused to cuddle with me tonight for the first time. It’s so peculiar how you can feel so alone in a city cramped with people.

And I do mean cramped. If one more person sneezes near me without covering their mouths I’m going to go bat-shit crazy. I better not get the damn swine flu.



PS- I feel so much better after googling synonyms for “batshit” since after writing it I realized that I totally stole that vocabulary choice from my good friend NG’s blog. What I found was hilarious. Yes, I’m amused by the little things:

Bat-shit crazy: One step beyond just plain crazy. It is usually a temporary thing...sparked by something unexpected, or just really awful.
As soon as he saw me humping his mom, he went bat-shit crazy.