Pushing vs. Being Pushy

I've been sending out my work. To a lot of different people, festivals, and theatres. I've sent my latest play to people who know me, who don't know me, who know some of my friends, and to complete and utter strangers.

It takes a while. And the expectation is that you won't hear back from anyone. Because it seems that all producing theatres have piles and piles of scripts from writers, and no time to read them all. Plus a lot of places already have plays in development with writers they already know,and it's a big risk to spend a lot of money on an unknown writer, etc. etc. etc.

So I can understand it taking months and months to even get a rejection letter back, especially when I've taken it upon myself to ask a busy stranger to read my work. But it's when people I know-- people in my own theatre community-- specifically request my play, and then don't respond to any kind of follow-up contact... well, that sort of bugs me.

And it's not like I send a script on Wednesday and I'm calling them on Friday asking them how I liked it. I mean, I let a decent amount of time go by. And I'm polite-- "Just following up, I'd love to hear your thoughts, etc."

It's no secret that I hate the schmooze. I mean, there's legitimate networking, and then there's the schmooze. The fakey-fake, poured-on, ass-kissing of self-congratulation. And I'll bet some people would say "well, you're in the wrong business, then." But I don't think it has to be that way. I just don't know the line where gentle pushing becomes pushy.

I feel like there needs to be a little mutual excitement about working together. I know people are busy, I know you have to keep reminding people about yourself, but I feel like after I've called a couple of times, emailed a couple of times to follow up, I'm being pushy. And if you're not interested enough to even say "Not for me, no thanks." or "I really liked it, but I'm swamped, let's schedule something for next month." or whatever, if it left such a small impression on you that you don't even care to get back to me, well... is it something I should be pushing at all?

And please understand, I'm talking about people I know, who I see regularly. Am I wrong? Is it not correct to assume that people should be at least a little interested in a play I spent so much time on?

Or do I just need to be pushier?

Act Two...

Yes, I am now ensconced in Act Two, still hoping that I will eventually figure out what I am writing about. And I think I'm on track to finish by my deadline.

I've realized that I have pretty much no free time until sometime after April 20, when the second session of the Big Time Theat-ah Development Variety Hour concludes. Until then, my time is eaten by:
1)working
2)writing
3)seeing plays
4)reading the assigned plays for the Theat-ah Development thing-y
5)trying to make money

Making money, my favourite and least favourite topic. We are a little broke, my friends. I know, nothing new. But we're both trying to make a concerted effort to get rid of some debt so we can do fun things instead of eating spaghetti 4 days a week. This also means I accept strange standardized patient gigs, because I need need need the money. Listing stuff on Amazon (although nothing has sold yet), counting change. You know the drill.

The other day in rehearsal, a local actor/writer-type person apparently told J that she envies our life, which is kind of hilarious, because she's certainly what I would consider more successful than me. But I guess where we really went right (according to her, anyway) is not having kids to get in the way of our creative careers. If we had kids, I would make them get jobs. Ok, I probably wouldn't.

I also got to go see a dietician this week, which I thought would be lame, but was actually pretty cool. Let the healthy, balanced eating begin!

And apparently there is some kind of public workshop planned for the plays at the Big Time Theat-ah throughout next season. How do I know this? I read it in a program the other night.

Hopefully more information is forthcoming...

Awkward Encounters

I had a weird experience this morning... I got on the bus to go to work, and there was this woman smiling at me... and she looked very familiar. Now, I'm notoriously terrible with names, so it took me a second to remember. Turns out she was a shrink I saw for a few months a couple of years ago... She was a masters student at the time, and only a couple of years older than me. I think her specialization was art therapy, and we probably would have had a lot in common, had we not had that pesky headshrinker-client relationship.

I wasn't really sure if I should sit next to her, or talk to her, or what, but we ended up chatting for the ride downtown. I guess she lives in my neighborhood.

WEIRD. I mean, not pathological weird, but weird, nonetheless.

Don't Hold Your Breath...

This is the instruction that my voice teacher gave me yesterday. Like, quite literally, don't hold your breath. Which is a bad habit of mine. Because, friends, I hold my breath ALL THE TIME. It's some kind of stress management/holding back emotions/who knows why psychological quirk of mine. I could probably go on for ages, analyzing it. But I won't.

Apparently I had a bit of a breakthrough at yesterday's lesson, which has left me feeling a bit unguarded and vulnerable. See, when you hold everything back behind a safely clenched diaphragm, releasing it makes you a little loopy. Just letting it all go makes you a little anxious.

And I'm confused about tension vs. impulse vs. normal, non-tense muscle activity, and a host of other things.

I just want to sing! How hard should that be?

To keep in mind while writing...

The only person expecting the first draft to be brilliant is me. All anyone else is expecting is for the draft to be done.

Take deep breaths and repeat.

It's startling to sometimes see so clearly that the creator of most of my obstacles is myself.

I made it!

Yes, I finished shooting yesterday, and I'm glad the 3 days is over. I didn't get fired for being lame/fat/untalented/having a terrible wardrobe, all of which was a great relief. Although I am going to miss having someone do my hair and makeup.

I get the feeling that I wasn't on the greatest set ever-- the director was... inexperienced, and there were a few times I noticed a wee bit of tension between the crew and the director (who didn't seem to have a good understanding of the process and preparation involved). I tried to be the model of professionalism-- oh, you want me to hold the plates at this level? Can do! This time don't turn my head until after I finish my line? No problem.

I'd kind of forgotten that film stuff is incredibly technical for the actor... you're kind of like a prop that can talk. An important prop, but still a prop that's expected to stand, move and talk the same way every take. We were shooting with kids on the first couple of days, which was challenging, because they couldn't keep track of things like not looking into the camera during every. single. take.

I don't know when I'm going to be on tv. From my understanding, they'll be starting the ads on their website first, then broadcasting them on television towards the end of the summer.

I'm pretty proud of myself. And pretty excited about the paycheck, too.

Tomorrow is the big day...

You guys, I am so nervous! I am shooting all day tomorrow, Monday evening, and Tuesday all day. In the first commercial I'm a harried mom (mom? I'm old enough to be a mom?), in the second I'm half of a fun young couple. First shoot has no dialogue, Tuesday has a few pages (which I need to get my ass in gear and memorize).

Here's a sample of some thoughts running through my brain:
What if I suck?
What if everyone realizes I don't know what I'm doing?
What if my clothes choices (from my very limited wardrobe)are awful?
What if I look even chunkier on camera?
What if they fire me for sucking/not knowing what I'm doing/having terrible clothes/being chunky?

Yes, it's a full-blown riot, where self-esteem and anxiety team up to make me lose sleep. Here's what I try to tell myself:
Clearly I don't suck, because I got hired. Also, we can always do another take if something doesn't work.
Obviously I won't know what I'm doing--it's my first commercial. That's why questions were invented.
My clothes are what they are-- I'm going to do my best with what I have.
I have no idea if I'm going to look chunkier or not. I assume that since they'd seen me on camera before hiring me, it's not going to be a huge shock to them.
If I get fired, I'm going to make my agent have them pay me for at least the day. But I'm not going to get fired.

It doesn't help that I had one of THOSE dreams last night... really weird dreams where I was a photographer and interviewing all these people I knew, and realizing gradually that none of them actually liked me and they wished I would just leave, so I slunk out into the parking lot, where some kind of hillbilly hoe-down was taking place, complete with a buffet of various types of live beetles.

OK, the dream itself makes no sense, but it was still one of those dreams where you wake up and feel all disappointed because of how people treated you and it takes a while to remember it was just a stupid dream. And while we're on the subject, I clearly remember being entranced by the movie "Waking Life", where they told you that one way to tell you're dreaming is that tech things don't work, and writing is incomprehensible. Yet I even more clearly remember a chafing dish of giant red beetles with a handwritten sign saying "Got to get your RED MEAT!". So am I some kind of dream weirdo who can read things in her dreams? Does that not happen to everyone?

It doesn't help that I am working pretty much constantly. I need a day off. I miss the days of working 3 hours shifts and then wandering around having coffee and thrift store shopping. I miss naps. I miss having time and energy to cook something more complex than grilled cheese sandwiches or spaghetti. Soon spring will come and I will have more time. And then the summer, when we're not open into the evenings.

Soon!

Heard back from my agent...

And it looks like the commercial gig is a go! I shoot Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. And my job is being lovely and understanding and giving me the time off! And the best part of all is that I'm getting paid a pretty handsome amount of money.

Could I be living the dream?

Well, I wouldn't go that far. I do have to bring some wardrobe options, which I'm a little nervous about, since my wardrobe is a bit limited at the moment. I may sneak in a quick Value Village run and see if I can pick up a couple of new-to-me items.

That and I have to squeeze in a couple of plays, several full days of work, and lots of writing between now and then. Basically, March feels like I'm working 24 hours a day, every. single. day.

I can't wait till April. For one, I will likely have at least some time off over Easter. And the next session of the playwrights unit will feel like a vacation. An intense, mentally tiring vacation.

Putting Myself Out There

The other day I was volunteering for a local theatre company's casino-- I'd heard the food was miles better than bingo food, and what could it hurt to show some support, mix and mingle and help out... particularly with season announcements just around the corner?

I was chatting with the AD (artistic director), who was lamenting that he felt he was never going to "break through" to the next level (those of you who know me for realz may know him... actor/writer/designer/artistic director). Anyhoo, I confessed that I felt the same way. He said that he thought I would, but wondered if I meant as an actor or a writer. I said both ideally, but I just feel like I'm never going to get cast in work I don't have a hand in creating. And he said he did think I'd find work as an actor, but that I had to keep reminding people that I'm an actor.

And not just because I write, although that doesn't always help my case. It's because there are... well, there are a lot of actors. Even here. And it's easy to forget people, or think they're not interested, or think they're focusing on doing something else now, like writing. And really, I need to put myself out there more, remind people that I'm here, I'm good, and I'm ready to work.

I don't quite know how to do that. Do yet another round of generals? New pictures? Become one of those people who self-promote really well without being completely obnoxious about it?

I need to say yes to more things. Like this thing: in April I will be joining some fellows who do a Mystery Science Theatre-style riff on bad movies-- my movie? Twilight. They need a lady's point of view, and they thought I'd be funny. Will I be funny? I don't know. It's one thing to make comments in the warm cosiness of your living room, quite another to make them into a microphone in a theatre full of people.

I guess we'll see...

Booking it...?

Well friends, it looks like some acting work may have fallen into my lap. I say "may" because it's not 100% confirmed yet, but the long and the short of it is that some marketing lady saw me in a comedy sketch I filmed for a troupe here before Christmas, and wants to put me in a couple of commercials.

Now before you imagine me being discovered at Schwab's or something, I will stress that these are local commercials, probably of the slightly hokey persuasion. I will also stress that I am waiting until she says "Yes, you are the person I mean", because apparently she thought she was contacting me a month ago, and she was actually contacting another girl from the video. Wouldn't it be hilarious if that happened again? And by hilarious, of course, I mean completely and totally unhilarious.

In any case, I've talked to her, emailed her my photo so she can be double-sure it's me she means, and given her my agent's contact information. (Amazing how my agent is suddenly extremely interested in my life once there's the prospect of getting paid-- but that's another story).

We shoot Sunday, Monday night, and Tuesday all day if this is in fact the gig. Should be a goodly amount of money for my trouble, I'm thinking.

OK, that's the quasi-news for the day. Back to writing.

And Hair We Are...

OK, that's the name of a salon across the street from my salon. For some reason, I find it endlessly funny. Partially because I imagine the day the person thought of it, and presenting the idea to someone. I imagine the presentation involved jazz hands, a sunny smile, and one of those loaded pauses that happen when you're waiting to be praised.

In any case, I got my hair cut a couple of weeks ago. Those of you who do not know me in person may not realize that I have twice the head hair of a normal person. I have a lot of hair, which is very thick, and vaguely wavy. I know, I shouldn't complain. Lots of thin-haired people (I thought about coming up with a clever name for them, but it's too cold to think)would love to have my hair.

Except thick uncooperative hair can get crazy looking, y'all. And my new haircut, which I loved loved loved styled curly (the ends are now thinned out enough to make this possible), has had some kind of mental event since it encountered the horrible, nogood, verybad cold and dry weather we've been having. It's kind of a disaster at the moment. I hesitate to flat iron it every day, but maybe that will solve the problem. I don't want to start fooling around with a curling iron on a day when I actually have to be somewhere, because we all know that makeup and hair experiments will invariably go awry when you have to be at work in 45 minutes. And my hair's too short to go with the ever-forgiving ponytail.

In other news, it's really fucking cold! I think it's been around -35 to -40C with the windchill the last couple of days, with no real end in sight. I always feel like bitterly cold weather is the most wearing on the soul. A lot of people will talk about the lack of daylight in winter, but for me, it's the cold.

I got another couple of requests for complete scripts based on submissions, which I consider to be a victory. One of them is a new play festival in the US. One is a theatre company. So fingers crossed, I guess.

Still working on the first draft. We've also been assigned to send in the title of our favourite play, the play we worship and never tire of getting excited about. I'm not sure about this one. I have to resist the urge to impress and make some kind of honest choice. I'm curious to see what everyone else will pick. I have an idea of what mine is, but it's completely different than anything I write, so I have a feeling everyone will be surprised.

Back to work. Happy Thursday, friends!

When is a day off not a day off?

a) when you have to go in to work at 5pm
b) when you can't get your mind off of your real work passion
c) when you get excited about having "free time" because it means you can get all the stuff on your to-do list done.

Yes, I'm working a late shift today, which is kind of a treat. Normally I would go out and have a bit of a shopping adventure, but it's bitterly cold here (so, so sick of that), and I'm broke. So I got some groceries, and am currently making lunches for the rest of the week.

On the menu? Besides the regular fruit and veggies, I'm giving the famous Veganomicon chickpea cutlets another shot. I kind of overdid them the first Christmas I went home as a vegetarian-- my parents were less than accepting, and I didn't want to be a huge bother. Hence I packed a stack of these in a tupperware in my luggage, and ate 2 every day over the holidays. Needless to say, they needed a break from the menu rotation.

I've spent some time working on a couple of submissions-- currently my half-to-one page play summary is close to two pages long. Oops. I'll be spending some time trimming this down tonight. And my somewhat ambitious goal is to get the complete first act of the new play in draft form by the time March rolls around. Leaving March and part of April to write the second act and do some rewrites.

Sometimes, I wish I wrote more commercial stuff. I've been looking at all the audition notices for the summer rep companies, and reading the synopses of the plays they do... it makes me wonder if I'll ever get produced. Not that I'm writing out there, controversial pieces about poop and abortion and child literacy. And I think there's already plenty of easily digestible, tv-like plays out there already, that completely absolve the audience of any need to think.

But still.

Anyway, the oven just beeped. Chickpea cutlets are calling!

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

I've decided to do a bit of a blog makeover, so until I find the time and knowledge to design my own, I'm going to try a few free templates from the wide, wide world of web.

What do you think?

Happy Valentime's!

Hello, friends. I know, it's been a while. My life has been both busy and insanely boring, at the same time. I've been working a lot, to try to come up with some cash to (1) pay off some debt, (2) go on a holiday at some point, (3)attend my brother's wedding, (4)get some new clothes, and (5)not to feel like I'm broke all the time.

It's been a coupon-clipping, grilled-cheese-and-soup-eating kind of month. And it looks like next month isn't any better.

However. I need to do something creative and cheap for Valentine's Day. It can be cheesy and lame, but I am having a hard time coming up with ideas. Apparently I blew my wad on the best Valentine's surprise *evarrr* the first year we were going out (it was cheap and cheesy, involving a scavenger hunt and drug store chocolates). But I've had a request from J to "do something cool again" for V-Day.

Hmmmm.

Now, you'd think that the perfect place to look for ideas of this nature would be the internet... the interwebs, with their vast selection of blogs, repository of women's magazine articles. You'd think that if there was an idea to be had, the inter-tubes would have it.

And I'm sure there are plenty of awesome ideas to be had, they just may not show up on the first page of Google. Because I have to say, hug coupons are not that great to give between adults, Canadian Living. And Martha Stewart Living,while your taste level is unassailable, I can pretty much guarantee that I'm not going to make my sweet baboo a floral arrangement made of painstakingly glued, hand-cut, crepe-paper flowers. Nor do I agree that decorating a heart-shaped box with antique lace and baking "precious jewel" candies to go inside is a "quick and easy gift". I'm sorry, but you just don't get that time back.

Do they write magazine articles for this predicament? Being normally a cool and clever person who is a little strapped for time and cash, and needing to come up with an awesome gift that can be assembled from things found (1) at the drug store or dollar store, and (2) during my extremely limited lunch breaks, and (3) is not a gift certificate for a foot rub, or an hour of watching sports without complaining, or some other bullshit like that.

What magazine would that be? Why am I not reading it? If it doesn't exist, why am I not publishing it?

Actually, I do have a few ideas. Some of them may or may not be ripped off from that great waiting room literature, Canadian Living. But I have to be careful to save up some DIY gift ideas for next December, because I've been informed that we may be experiencing Imagination Christmas.

Which at least saves me from trying to knit a pair of socks in the next three days.

Pet Peeves

OK, I will admit, I'm not always a team player. In fact, I often have very little tolerance for my fellow humans. I can't recall if I ever got the "does not play well with others" comment on my report card (though I did have a music teacher who enjoyed putting comments like "Frequently without gym uniform"), but it would probably still be apt.

I'm always amazed at "people persons" (person persons? people people?). You know, those people who need to interact with others each and every day and are miserable without socializing? They're usually pretty chipper, which is not a word that has ever been used to describe me. I mean, I could go for days without having a conversation with anyone besides J. When he was away on tour, I spent a lot of time blissfully away from other humans. I enjoy my solitude, is what I'm saying.

Which makes it doubly hilarious that my current job is in customer service.

Anyhow, my pet peeve for the day: I belong to a weight loss message board. (I kind of love internet message boards, though I never post. Even my virtual self is anti-social!)While I mainly like to track my food and exercise and use it motivationally, I like to skim through the message boards. I'm always kind of amazed at people who "don't like any fruits or vegetables", or who don't understand "how on earth people can eat 5 servings of fruits and veggies a day?" But the one I hate the most, the thing that gets repeated over and over and over:

MUSCLE WEIGHS MORE THAN FAT.

OK. Muscle doesn't "weigh more than fat". A pound of muscle weighs the same as a pound of fat. Which is the same as a pound of feathers, or a pound of butter, or a pound of Tinker Toys. Leaving aside that "I've been working out for 3 days and the scale hasn't budged" query, the proper response isn't "well you know, muscle weighs more than fat! go4it!"

Muscle is more dense than fat. So it takes up less space than fat. But it weighs the same.

I know, I know that I shouldn't get my blood pressure up about stuff on the internet, but eventually, the aggravation wears me down.

Monday!

Well, friends, it's Monday again. I'm here at work, where I've recently accepted a promotion into a kind of supervisory role... Ultimately I will do less face-to-face everyday customer service (yay!), but will probably deal with escalated customer service issues. And do more admin-y stuff, which I'm looking forward to learning about. I'm a bit leary about "am I getting sucked into a steady job because of the stability?", but at this point I could use the money, the benefits, and... well, the stability. I want to be able to afford to do all the stuff I have planned this year, and save some up to do some more stuff. And if I don't like it, I can always step down. Or find a new job if that's not possible.

Last week I went to a very strange alternative therapy, which aroused the skeptic in me. It was something I wouldn't have sought out myself, but an old friend of mine is now an enthusiastic practitioner, and offered a complimentary session to me. And since it was free, I decided to go with it and just take the chance to meditate on some stuff.

Honestly, I think some alternative treatments/modalities are great, and some of them just seem like utter BS. The little science nerd in me keeps raising her hand and saying "Dude. Wait, what?" And then the little hippie nerd in me is all like "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio..." Except she says it like she's in the movie Clueless, so Horatio has about four extra syllables.

ANYWAY, as questionable as the science behind the treatment was, some of the discussion we had afterwards was quite valuable-- which led me to think this weekend of how much of my life I've spent trying to "impress" others, trying to get validation from them. (I suppose if I had to get specific about it, I would say I spent an awful lot of my childhood trying somewhat unsuccessfully to get my parents' approval-- I've gotten a little better about approval-seeking in general, but this one still hits home).

Ever been to alternative therapies? From getting your chakras balanced to getting a hole drilled in your forehead, I'm curious. (Speaking of holes drilled in your forehead, the best class I ever took in university was The History of Medical Practice-- 1700 to Present Day. Drilling holes in your head to let the gnomes out, stomachaches caused by a demon in your stomach, blood poisoning caused by masturbating. I could go on. It was awesome.)

ETA: Just wanted to note that I got my most prestigious rejection letter yet-- rejected from the Sundance Theatre Lab (yes, that is Sundance as in THE Sundance). This is not so bad, and certainly not unexpected. Getting rejected by more prestigious places means I actually think enough of myself to apply to such prestigious places. Which is good! But boooo on Robert Redford for not thinking I'm a genius. (Actually, I'm pretty sure Redford doesn't read any of the submissions for theatre. Pretty sure.)

Tuesday

So the weather defeated both me and my friend, and I think we were both relieved not to have to go out and entertain each other after a multi-hour, multi-delayed plane ride/frigid day of hiding in a cold, cold house.

Do you ever get into a creative rut? I do. All the time. Friends tell me it's a part of being creative, but I always imagine everyone else's process being infinitely joyous and fulfilling. Unlike mine, which seems to bring misery and frustration. I know I'm in a rut when I start to get obsessive over how much better everyone else's career is going. Because everyone else is booking the jobs, is meeting the right people, is going on worldwide tours of edgy new works. Everyone else is prettier, or younger looking, or more talented, or more confident, or, or, or...

You see where this ends up, right? And that's no fun. Fortunately now I'm starting to recognize the warning signs, and am attempting to haul myself out of it before a full-blown crise-du-confiance rears its ugly head.

Today is a long day. I like to cram as many things as possible into my non-work time, apparently. So this morning I had a doctor's appointment, a singing lesson, and now I'm at work for the evening shift. Maybe I'm feeling creatively meh because I can NEVER LET MYSELF RELAX WITHOUT FEELING GUILTY?

How is your Tuesday going?

Not Looking Good...

Well, I'm pretty sure I didn't book a part in that film... was it the weird eye? My chubbiness? The fact that they wanted either 22-25 or 35-45 and I am slightly too old/too young-looking for either of those categories? I know I read well. So maybe it's that vague, frustrating "you weren't quite what we were looking for". I think that if I could get more auditions, they'd become more businesslike for me-- plus I'd be in more practice. Here's hoping that the spring/summer brings more production to my prairie home.

It's been cold cold cold and snowing all weekend, so I've been housebound for a couple of days, save for doing the weekly grocery shop-- just a few more weeks of poverty before we can start buying name-brand groceries again. I've got another freelance editing job for the month of February, which will pay ridiculously well and will contribute nicely to our travel savings fund.

I have a friend coming in from out of town for work, and he may be calling me to go for drinks later on... is it wrong that I'm not totally excited about venturing out on the frozen planet of Hoth to go for a beer? I feel like a bad friend, he's only here for less than a day. I'm sure I'll go. I'll go. But I'm secretly hoping he's too tired to play tonight.

Bad friend!

This Day Can Only Get Better...

As I think I've whined about mentioned a few times lately, I've been rather sick over the last week. Yesterday I finally stopped with the consta-sneezing, consta-snotting, and dopey-headedness. I was starting to taste food again. A time for rejoicing!

Then this morning I woke up with my left eye all swollen and puffy. I'm going to chalk that up to sinus irritation, since it's happened before (and fortunately hasn't spread to my entire eye, as has happened before)... just the underside of my eye was puffy. Of course, this was the morning of my audition, just me in a room with a camera and six people who'd never met me, and could probably only wonder if my headshot was massively photoshopped.

I briefly considered calling in sick to the audition. I actually had a little debate with myself in the bathroom mirror as I pressed an ice pack to my eye. I decided to go, not only because I didn't want to be "that person" who blows off auditions (good reason or not), but because it wasn't that bad. I figured I could throw a little makeup on it, and besides, taking a brisk walk in -28C weather could probably only help the swelling, right?

And it kind of did. Except that it sort of spread out the swelling and gave the underside of my eye a distinctly purple outline. Basically, I look like someone clocked me in the face. Which was kind of interesting walking around downtown at lunch hour, people looking while trying not to look. I felt a little bit like a tough girl, which believe me, I am not.

And then came the audition. It was a little awkward, but I think the read itself did well. They didn't mention the eye, and neither did I. I don't know if that was the right thing or not-- it's been drilled into me that you don't mention that you're sick, because it comes across as making excuses. And what if it wasn't as noticeable as I thought? What if by mentioning it I just POINTED OUT MY WEIRD EYE AND THEY COULDN'T LOOK AWAY FROM IT?

It was a pretty in and out kind of read-- I'll hear soon whether or not I booked it. And I'm glad I went. Now I'm at work, starting early, settling in for a long shift till close.

Tip of the day: always have some kind of granola bar on hand at home. This will provide you with a more suitable breakfast than a mini babybel and a weird concentrated fruit and veggie bar you buy at the corner store.

Maybe She's Born With It... Maybe It's Added In Post

There's a lot of things to complain about in advertising, particularly advertising that's targeted at women. But for some reason, it's mascara ads that drive me up the wall.

I've got a pretty good set of natural eyelashes, and I've tried a few mascaras in my time-- whether it be volumizing, lenghthening,or some play on triple-X. There've been good products and bad products, but none of them have ever given me the ludicrously cartoon-like lashes they show in mascara ads.

And it pisses me off! I mean, not that I don't get the advertised results, but that the false advertising is so blatant. All these commercials about blasting your lashes, or maximizing your flirting potential, or achieving full confidence as a woman, and they're showing closeups of some model with showgirl drag-queen-worthy lashes. And in the small print it says "False lashes used" or "Lashes enhanced during post-production".

Which I totally don't get. Because aren't the eyelashes the thing they're selling? How can they show this girl with eyelashes up to her eyebrows and say "Aren't these great? You'd need a CGI guy following you around. Also, we sell mascara. Which has nothing to do with this look." And why does everyone just accept that mascara commercials are just fake? Or does everyone know they're fake? Do some women layer the mascara on and on in the hopes of achieving the My Little Pony Eye effect?

These commercials drive me into an inexplicable rage when I see them.
Are there any commercials that are like that for you?

What Do You Mean I'm An Overachiever?

So I'm sick. Sick in the way that I only get sick every couple of years, what with the stuffed up sinuses and the cough and the mysterious inability to stay awake for more than 20 minutes at a time-- merely a third of an episode of Groomer Has It, as I discovered yesterday. Not only does being sick lead to some confusing tv times (like waking up in the middle of Who Wants To Be A Superhero when you are still mentally in the Nigella Cooks headspace, but I also called in sick yesterday, the one and only time in the 18+ months I have worked here. I'm back at work today, mercifully I am down in the dungeon on phones rather than having to face customers in the flesh.

But here's a quick "to-do" list I just jotted down for myself on a piece of scrap paper:

*Massage
*Give blood
*Join Y
*Sides for audition
*Acupuncture

Oh, just a few things I dashed off that I need to do. Why not include "Win Governer General's Award for drama"? Or "Win Canadian Idol: Easy Listening Edition" (which I wish they had for old fogeys like me).

I can't decide if it's because I feel slightly guilty for being sick and not accomplishing something, or if too much time on its own causes my mind to wander into the realms of fantasy. Or both.

I am pretty determined to book a massage, once I get paid next week. A few of my dancer-type friends have been suggesting the excellent rolfers that they have found. I don't know why, but I've always been afraid of being rolfed. Possibly some buried association with a particularly aggressive theatre school instructor. I don't know, it sounds like it's super hard core. Anyone been rolfed? Is it incredibly painful?

No further C's have been sung on this front, by the way. Maybe I should add it to my to-do list!

Today...

I sang a high C in my lesson today. I know! Nobody is more surprised than me.

Now I'm terribly, terribly sick with a chest cold.

Coincidence?

Could the gateway to my upper register have been blocked by thousands of GERMS and VIRUSES, rather than YEARS OF PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLSHIT? Could my upper register be protecting the world from A NEW PLAGUE and not AVOIDING MY TERRIBLE SELF-ESTEEM ISSUES?

Eh, maybe a little from Column A and a little from Column B.

Small steps

So, remember that indie I booked a few months ago? It kept getting pushed back and back, and now has undergone rather significant script changes, to the point where it's kind of an entirely different movie. As a matter of fact, the original film was cancelled before Christmas, and they're starting the process over again. Meaning another round of auditions.

I was struggling to just make myself book a slot, because it's been a while since I did an "in the room audition" (the last couple of auditions I've had have been submitted on tape), and I get nervous about all kinds of stupid things. It's the kind of thing that I have to just force myself to get back into-- I'm sure if I lived in a market where auditions came fast and furious, I'd be able to get on a roll, because I honestly do really like auditions and cold readings. Anyway, I just sent an email to book the slot, so this week I'll be learning some sides and giving myself some serious pep talks.

I found this article on letting go of perfectionism somewhere in my recent internet travels, and I was really struck by how many points hit home for me-- I was definitely raised in an environment where grades/achievements/awards were praised and expected. And I can definitely see how perfectionism (which is really about trying to get approval/validation) is blocking to me-- I get to the point where I'm paralyzed about trying something for fear of failing in front of someone. I want to try new things, though. I want to be fearless. And if it's not possible to be totally fearless, I'd like to be fearless-er.

This year, people! Remind me of my current optimism when I burn out sometime in late May, will you?

I also resolve...

To make this the year I have a well-stocked bar. Actually, my "bar" (*cough*kitchen cabinet*cough)is looking rather empty at the moment, with the dregs of a bottle of rum and a bottle of Bombay Gin that contains only fumes. Oh, and a bottle of red wine my landlady gave us for Christmas. Last year. Oops.

My old roommate and I used to throw amazing holiday cocktail parties. I mean, I think they were pretty amazing. And we'd have awesome treats like homemade candy cane bark. And a cheese log! And we'd always feel very grown-up, because we'd pick a theme drink for the evening, and stock up on whatever the main booze ingredient was. Yes, we were quite grown up and sophisticated, my friends. And because of our penchant for vintage cocktail culture, we had a really great liquor cabinet, stocked with everything from creme de menthe to curacao, to a veritable rainbow of schnapps. And being in the thea-tah, we had plenty of bartender friends who were only too happy to mix up something fab while we celebrated the season.

Well, that was a few years ago. And the best of the vintage barware went with its owner to Toronto, and the booze is long gone. But I want to bring it back! I figure I can make a list of drinks I want to try, stock up on the basics (vodka, gin, rum, tequila, whisky and triple sec) and then add on as I find more fun drinks. I'd like to add a bottle every paycheque, if I can. And how much fun will it be to try a new drink every week? Because I do love me a cocktail.

Take that, Liquor Depot clerk (and Liquor Mart clerk!) for looking at me like I was on drugs when I asked if they had Mai Tai mix! I'll make my own! From scratch! In about... oh, say... 2 months!

HA!

A Happy New Year to you, friends and neighbours!

A Happy Happy, And A Merry Merry

Well, the gifts are all unwrapped, my holiday travel is done, and I have way more chocolates/cookies/treats lying around the house than I know what to do with. In some ways, I felt like I didn't get to really enjoy the whole Christmas season (and I am a cheesy, cheesy freak for Christmas), just because I had so much running around in December: the playwrights intensive, working 11 days straight right up until I left, heading home, coming back last night and being here at work bright and early...ish. There were a lot of things I wanted to do, one of which was to take some time off for myself, and I didn't get to do a lot of that.

I did get to see some amazing folks that I hadn't seen in years and years. And I was a little nervous-- what were we going to talk about? Am I as socially awkward as I feel sometimes? But it was fabulous, and I'm so glad I got to see as many people as I did and catch up with them all.

I got to do a lot of thinking (or, I suppose, I was forced to do a lot of thinking) about old issues that came up to confront me during my time with my family. I'm trying to let some things go, because there's no sense in me carrying all that stuff around. It just becomes all too handy an excuse for why I'm not moving towards my goals. Of course, saying "I'm letting it go!" and actually doing it are two very different beasts. But I have a lot of goals that I'm excited to start working towards. I'm just trying not to put too much pressure on myself, because then I end up busy and stressed and frazzled and I end up missing out on having a lazy Christmas!

Anyway, back to work-- hope you all had a lovely week and a great year ahead.

Why Am I Not A Photo Person?

OK, y'all. I've been noticing the distinct lack of photos on this thing I call "my blog". And it's not that I don't have access to a digital camera. I think I actually have access to at least 3, in fact: my camera, my phone, and my laptop. And yet I don't take photos very often.

I think it's a leftover thing from my formative years-- we didn't have digital cameras then. I mean, I'm talking one computer to an entire school, where you could sign up for time to play "Lemonade Stand" if you were lucky and in the gifted program like me. Of course, the payoff was watching filmstrips about what COBOL and BASIC and FORTRAN stood for, and how we would all be needing to learn these languages sometime in the future.

Anyway, photos. You had to use film, which was precious and could be ruined by, say, sunlight, or greasy children's fingerprints, and needed to be wound after each photo. And every photo was a risk, because it could take months (if you were, say, my parents) to use up a roll. And then it could take months to actually get off your ass and go to a photo developing place, and then get your pictures back and decide what you wanted doubles of, and by then everyone had seen the picture of you with your eyes clothes, or your boob hanging out, or whatever embarrassing thing was captured on film. But it kind of didn't matter, because you no longer had any context for that moment.

So I don't take a lot of photos. And you know what I hate? Uploading. Isn't that stupid? It's way more convenient than having to leave the house after having taken a certain number of photos and wait for them to get developed, etc. etc. like I just said in the paragraph above. And yet, I really hate having to name all my pictures and sort them out.

But out of a fear of the last vestiges of youth passing me by and me having no memory of these years, say, 5 years from now, I'm going to start taking more pictures. There, I just resolved that! I love resolutions because they are so EASY TO MAKE.

Speaking of, I should probably organize those resolutions. Like organizing photos, the prospect is less than appealing. I actually came to post about the laziest, most irritating person that I work with, but then I got all hung up on "hey, photos!", so my bitching about this guy will have to wait for another day.

Celebrate good times...

Yes, I'm back. The writing thing went really well, I'm kind of sad it's over, but happy that I don't have to use my brain that intensely every day for a while. So I'm back at work, gazing in wonderment and the internet, realizing I can just read about celebrity breakups and look at food porn without worrying that I need to be *working* on something.
Of course, naturally, I am working on my project, because it's wormed its way into my brain-- we're meeting again for another intensive in March, and then an invited reading in June. Now all I have to do is keep the good creative energy flowing long enough to actually write a complete draft of my play.
But the big news...
The big news...
The reason they call it the most wonderful time of the year is...

I PAID OFF MY STUDENT LOAN!

Well, technically I made arrangements for the payment today, which is coming out tomorrow. But that makes today Student Loan Eve, equivalent to my very favourite day of Christmas Eve. So sometime between midnight and 6pm tomorrow, my loan will be paid off, leaving me free to close my account with RBC, the sweetest Christmas gift of all.

Although I find it slightly ridiculous that I have to wait 5 business days and call them one more time if I want an actual document saying that my loan is paid in full, because "unfortunately, our system doesn't generate them automatically". I mean, maybe it's just me, but I kind of assumed that when you paid off a loan or a mortgage, your bank just sent you a piece of paper confirming it was paid. Doesn't everyone want the piece of paper? I know I do, because then I can conclusively prove to them that my debt is paid in full when they screw up and start trying to do some kind of automatic debit that I already cancelled.

Is my relationship with the Royal Bank over? Can I really go through the rest of my life never, ever having to talk to them again? Or will they change their minds, or screw something up, or miscalculate something and then try to chase me down for a few more pennies? Will it be a clean break, or will it be a messy divorce?

Anyway, you can bet I will be celebrating this for the next 24 hours.

Out with the old...

That list of submissions? Done. I forced myself to sit down and write the appropriate summaries, synopses and cover letters and sent them out on Friday. And now... let the waiting commence.

This week is the hell week for me... writing intensive during the day, working at night (or a reading, or an audition), then at some point writing to have more stuff to bring for 9am the next day. It's the kind of week where you have to bring 3 meals and 2 snacks with you plus a change of clothes. Fortunately, it's only from tomorrow till the 14th. After that... then I have just a week and a half until I fly home for a few days.

Right now, I admit, I'm kind of procrastinating with the writing a little bit.

I resolve...

Do you make New Year's resolutions? I sometimes do, but I try not to go to crazy. With my propensity for making lists, it could be possible to go a little overboard. It's usually pretty standard stuff, quit smoking (done!), quit biting nails (not done), lose 40 lbs (in progress). One year I resolved to read a classic novel every month for 12 months, which turned out to be fun.

This year, I actually have a short list of things that I'm resolving to complete before the new year, so I can have a fresh start without all this old year crap hanging over me. Speaking of, I must remember to buy a new day timer...

Out With The Old Resolutions...
* for the love of the gods, I must finish that list of submissions before Christmas! I have all the appropriate pdf files, I have a play summary, I have a good cover letter that I can tweak, all the names I should drop. I just kind of withered on the vine when it came to submitting to people I don't really know. Which is ridiculous, and now I'm just putting it off for no reason. It shall be done!

* donate blood. This was on my list of things to do all year, and to be fair, I did unsuccessfully try to donate. And though I was afraid I might be rejected for being a low-iron vegetarian (not the case! go nutrition!), I did get rejected because the tech totally missed my vein or went through it three times in a row, resulting in a super painful bruise for me, and them telling me that even though they took no actual blood, I wouldn't be able to try again for a couple of months. Which has extended till now. I'm trying to make time to go do that before Christmas as well.

* Pay off my student loan. Could I be more excited about this one? I still have enough left on the loan that it would take about 2 more years to pay it out, based on the rate I'm paying at now. But my parents, in their infinite wisdom, have told me (nay, insisted to me) that "Remember when you moved out when you were 16 and we didn't really give you any financial help with school? Why don't we pay off the rest of that loan?" Which I am glad beyond belief to accept. Partially because I can use the money I would have had to pay into my loans for the next two years into paying other debt, or voice lessons, or putting on a show, or a gym membership, or something worthwhile. And partially because I LITERALLY CANNOT WAIT TO CLOSE MY ACCOUNT WITH THE ROYAL BANK! That is going to be one sweet, sweet (and yes, I accept that it will be anticlimactic) day.

In 2011...
I'm joining the Y. Now that I don't have student loans to pay, I have no excuse. It's close to work, it's relatively affordable, and it has endless possibilities for different workouts, so there's no way I can get bored. The rest of this %$*&# weight is coming off!

Having said that, I'm not putting off stuff any more "while I lose weight". Life is short. Losing weight seems to be taking a long time. I'd rather see what kind of opportunities there are for me RIGHT NOW than wait one more minute.

I'm going to look cuter. I've been wanting to do a little style makeover for a while. So I'm going to go ahead and do that.

I'm going to be a singer. Somehow.

And I'm sure there will be many, many more resolutions made, but those are the important ones. Now that they're in writing, what choice do I have but to complete them?

Writing is going slowly, but surely. I forgot what a slog writing a monologue can be. And since the whole show is monologue... well. It's pretty dense, I can no longer tell if it's interesting, and I have no idea how long what I've written runs. I have at least 12 densely packed pages. I'm hoping that might be close to 2 minutes a page, if not more. Whatever. I'm going to bring what I've got to the workshop on Tuesday and suffer through and probably not ask for comments or feedback, because who needs yet another voice in their head at this early stage?

Anyway, back to it.

Epiphanies

One of my favourite moments in writing (usually in writing plays) is when I've felt so frustrated and blocked about something and I finally say "Oh, I wish the character just *do this one thing that would solve all problems and allow me to move forward*."

And then I stop and think Well, why can't they? And suddenly everything I've been struggling with falls neatly into place, like I'd thought of it that way all along, but I'd just been waiting for myself to realize it.

Not that moments like that happen every day. But that sudden thrill of realizing I know the answer, I've known this answer all along is amazing.

I was reading a blog written a singing teacher. I like to discover new blogs and go on blog-binges. Just read all the old posts all at once. Which, come to think of it, is a bit sad that a voracious blog reader like myself is so lax in posting. Oops! But I digress. I was looking up discussions of head voice vs. chest voice, and trying to unconfuse myself, when I came across these posts talking about how singing (and all art), is about honesty. And courage. About claiming your voice, your instrument, and being willing to work with it honestly. How acting is about doing, not feeling.

And whoosh,suddenly there was that feeling again, of isn't that funny, I already had this answered and was just letting myself forget. Because creative art, whatever your medium, is about honesty. To me, anyway. That's what draws me to it, that's what keeps me going in the face of criticism or being overlooked, or whatever. And that's something I needed to consciously think about right now. Ultimately, it isn't about who's getting the most work, or what Artistic Director X thinks about my play, or why no one is hiring me. It's about finding the courage to be honest, to own my work, to make an offer without worrying about acceptance.

D-day for the play is coming next week-- I have no idea how much I'll have actually written. In other news, I have some indie film auditions coming up, and I was asked to film something for a sketch comedy troupe, which I'm doing this weekend. And I'm thrilled they asked me.

Going to try and move forward with the play, thinking about honesty and just showing up and owning my work.

That, and trying to get all my Christmas shopping done in one weekend.

Cheers, y'all!

Stress!

Oh, you guys. I'm so stressed right now. I'm in non-writing guilt overload, which should make tomorrow PRIME WRITING TIME. Of course, there's also a lot of pressure to make tomorrow PRIME WRITING TIME.

I guess I could probably just say "Oh, when you said no pressure to have a complete draft, I assumed that there was no pressure to complete anything."

Award silence.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you guys were cool. So. Uh. Yeah."

More awkward silence, followed by the sound of me tiptoeing out of the room.

No. I will have something decent to show them. I hope. Anything to cover up the fact that I have no idea what I am doing.

Between seeing a bunch of shows and working every day and worrying about the thing I am and am not writing, I cannot wait until sometime in December when the writing session is over and I can relax a little.

I submitted for a fringe slot, so we'll see if my fringe-lottery-luck continues its dismal trajectory. I figure if I get in, I have until May to withdraw without suffering a financial penalty. I can think of an idea by May, right?

Singing is going well-- I am even thinking ahead to doing some auditions in the spring.

It's hard not to feel beaten down, I have to say. I don't know if it's partially the weather (cold and dark, ick) or just the constant stress of trying to do everything at once, or what. I have been feeling rather mopey as of late. I know I can make stuff happen for myself, but sometimes it would be nice to be a participant, rather than an organizer. Maybe that's not my path, and I'm sure that I will feel better actually producing something over which I have complete artistic control,but still... it's difficult to feel left out, sometimes.

However. Back to some thinking and ruminating in readiness for writing tomorrow.

How To Write A Play

Here it is, all you aspiring playwrights! A quick and easy, step-by-step guide of how to write a play. Got your pen and paper ready?

1. Get an idea. This is one of the easiest parts. You can get ideas from tv commercials (ShamWow Vince: The Rock Opera), or movies (how about What About Bob? meets Armageddon? ONSTAGE!), or theatre, both good and bad (and it's easy to find some of both, wherever you are), or your personal life (Hairdon't: A Memoir).

2. So when you got your idea, did you write your first draft right away? Like, immediately right away? Oh. Because if you didn't, and I don't want to alarm you, your brain has had a chance to catch up with you. Your brain may have turned your idea into big, capital-letter WRITING A PLAY. In fact, your play idea has probably been mentally re-branded as YOUR PLAY IDEA, emphasizing the importance of not ruining it by actually writing it. In fact, the most important piece of advice I can give you about writing a play is DON'T RUIN IT. Because, and admittedly this is only a theory, if you ruin a play idea, you might not ever get another one. That's what I've heard, anyway.

3. Think about your play for a while. Look up things related to your play on the internet. But don't start writing (remember, writing=ruining. In fact, put this phrase on a sticky somewhere near your computer so you won't forget). This is an important phase called "research". If you are writing something based on historical events, you will discover a bonanza of research opportunities, so much so that you may never have to write your play at all. Consider yourself fortunate.

4. While you are procrastinating researching, you will likely start to feel guilty about not writing. Thus begins nature's delicate battle: the part of you that fears play-ruining will argue that there is still much research to do;some other part of you will retort that writers write, and you're not actually writing anything. A last burst of research will ensue. Once your guilt over not writing is even more unbearable than your fear of actually writing (and thus, ruining), it's time to write!

5. Force yourself to write. Start with the title page. Center your title, and put contact information in the bottom right-hand corner. This counts as one page of writing. You may need to take a break to rest your muse after this. Come back to it tomorrow, if you feel too spent to continue. Remember, the character descriptions, title page, and any dedications you wish to include all count as writing!

6. Sit in front of the page every day, disappointed that you didn't black out and complete your first draft the day before. Berate yourself for your failure. When you are fed up with your self-loathing, you will eventually get over yourself and write a partial draft.

7. Get another idea. Research that one for a while.

8. Come back to your play. Decide it's not so bad. Live in fear that you will ruin the existing portion of the play by completing the script.

9. Get over yourself.

10. Ruin your idea (or not). Finish the play. Allow trusted friends/colleagues to read it, then interpret all their actions for the next six months as tacit feedback on the quality of your writing.

11. Realize you need rewrites. Consider going back to the idea you had in step 7.

12. Return to step 1. Repeat.

Ta-Da! And that's how a play is written!

Catching Up

Sometimes it seems like my life is a constant cycle of falling behind and catching up. I don't know if everyone feels like that, or if it's a particular quirk of my personality that I view life as a series of to-do lists and achievements. Shamefully, I admit that some secret part of me works under the assumption that I'm going to be graded at some point.

I'm trying to work on my new play, and realizing that I have absolutely no idea of what I'm doing. Normally I would come up with an idea and sit on it for at least a few months before writing, thinking, ruminating, considering. I don't have the luxury of time for this one, since we're doing an intensive draft-reading week in early December. Yikes.

I'm also, inexplicably, doing NanoWriMo. I signed up to be moral support for a couple of people, who seemingly have given up. I've done Nano twice, won both times, and while I'm capable of churning out the requisite amount of words over a month, I'm beginning to feel a time crunch. And, I really don't care that much about it (I was using it to generate some ideas/content for a web series I'd like to produce). And while I say I don't care about it, I have a hard time stopping. I don't like to give up. I don't like quitting, even for ridiculous projects that NO ONE ELSE CARES ABOUT.

In other news, singing breakthroughs! Knitting! Lipstick buying! Yes, I bought a neutral lipstick all by my lonesome, because I haven't been able to get to the expensive store with actual consultants yet. And, much to my surprise, it looks good! And I feel a little more "done" than I would without.

So in the meantime, I'll be reading about doppelgangers and assorted weirdness, and trying to figure out what I should get people for Christmas.

What's new with everyone else?

Ever Think You Should Have Just Stayed In Bed?

Today has been trying so far. Actually, an extension of yesterday in that way.
I never thought I'd say it, but Value Village, you have failed me. It started with the "short bob wig" I bought. The first "short bob wig". While the coloured wigs seem to be of better quality, the brown and black wigs... are literally nothing like what is pictured on the packaging. Like, seriously. It looked like I had some sort of diseased woodchuck on my head. Of course, I found this out at 5pm on Halloween while getting ready for a party. So back to VV I went, to purchase the same exact wig in a different colour. I'm not sure why I expected different results (isn't that the definition of insanity), I guess I thought it might have been a factory defect or something.

Yes, another woodchuck head. So I resigned myself to using my own stupid hair, then spent 40 minutes trying to create some fake bangs, gave up doing that, then went to apply my Value Village false eyelashes. Self-adhesive eyelashes. No glue required... right?

Wrong! After much digging, I found some rather old eyelash glue. No significant eye mutations have occurred as of this writing, so I think I may be in the clear. Then, all dolled up, I grabbed a quick bite of good old KD, promptly spilling it down my (white) costume shirt front.

It's all the little things. Like my printer breaking this morning as I was trying to print off a grant application. Printing it off at work to find I made a huge mistake in budgeting (at least I caught it in time!)and having to reprint it. Opening my little cheese that I brought as a snack to find that it was badly packaged by the manufacturer (curse you, Babybel!), and it was moldy.

I just want to go home and hide under my Snuggie. After racing to get an envelope and standing in line at the post office to get this grant postmarked today, that is.

Tonight might be a good night to bake those cupcakes I've been promising myself.

ETA: I just realized that this is my 300th post! And I spent it complaining. Oh well! Celebrate good times... come on!

The Dead Have Risen From Their Graves...

And they're buying symphony tickets!
I was just processing a couple of internet orders, and pulled up an account for this guy who'd ordered a few concerts. Same name, same address, same phone number. Same guy.
Except in the memo line of his account, in big capital letters was written: DECEASED.

Sadly, I have no idea how long the dearly departed has been in his present unfortunate condition, but I did think it was telling that he was ordering tickets for Messiah. Oh, and Christmas Pops.

We speculated that he actually faked his own death in order to escape our telemarketing department.

Unless...

Unless he didn't.




Potential symphony patron?

Today I Saw Santa

Walking across the main square downtown. He went into a coffee shop.
Okay.

Either that's the world's most awesome strip-o-gram, or IT IS TOO EARLY FOR CHRISTMAS. They've already got the lights up and lit every night downtown. Last night I noticed that my across-the-street neighbours seem to have their tree up and decorated in their living room.

Granted, yesterday was the first snowfall of the year, but still. Hallowe'en isn't even here yet, people! I'm still enjoying zombie movies all up in my tv. I don't need to get all emotionally confused by seeing Christmas commercials in the middle of my creature feature marathon!

I am writing a grant that is due on Monday. I am supposed to start writing this things I laughably call "a new play" in the next couple of weeks. And, of course, there is my regular job. Sadly, my sweet editing job must go on hiatus, since their parent company doesn't allow temporary part-timers for more than a one-year term.

Just in time for Christmas, apparently!

Lost, Found, Waiting

Well, the good news first:
I got into my fancy major theatre playwright development program! No money (of course), but perhaps a little prestige to attach to grant applications. Speaking of which, I have one to write, which is always a little bit UGH. Plus now I have to actually write a play that vaguely resembles what I pitched. I have visions of everyone else showing up with a finished draft on the first day. DOUBLE UGH.

I found my sock yarn! This isn't exactly at the same newsmaking level, but I had lost 2 perfectly good skeins of EXPENSIVE sock yarn during a recent houseclean, and had been driving myself bananas trying to find it. Luckily, I decided to destash in a fit of frustration, and in the midst of packing up a bunch of yarn I'll never use, I happened across the sock yarn, tucked into a "safe" place.

Singing: progressing...? I am struggling. I have seen progress, but it's hard to be patient with this. I feel like I've been patient enough. I mean, clearly not, but you know what I mean? The other day I said "I'm really, really tired of learning life lessons." Which is a ridiculous thing to say, because obviously you're never done learning life lessons. I suppose you could be if you were on of those people who shut themselves down and never want to develop as a person, but I don't think that's my problem. I would just like to feel like something came easily to me. Which things probably do, I just don't recognize it. Like I always say, I'm not a lottery winner. Being handed things is not going to be my path. At least, if the first 30 years of my life were any clue.

I'm feeling rather at sea, to be honest. I don't know if it's just the approaching dark days of winter, but I've been all over the place emotionally. Trying to keep on track and eat enough protein and get enough sleep and not stress out over stuff that really, really doesn't matter.

I have some projects I need to finish, then I will feel better. Plus I will knit some sweet socks.

How are you?

RBC Student Loan Woes (Bitch bitch bitching ahead)

If I had a time machine, I would go back to the day I got my very first student loan... after waiting in line for 3+ hours at financial aid, I got up to the counter, and was told I had to choose a bank that my loan would go through. Impulsively, I said "Royal Bank". RBC had a branch right between school and my house, and was a few blocks closer than, say, CIBC or Scotia. My own bank, TD didn't handle student loans.

So, really, I picked my lender (correct that--administrator. The government was lending me money through RBC) based on convenience and a soupcon of laziness. I went down that day and opened an account.

Big mistake. If I had that time machine, I would materialize in front of my 19 year old self and tell her two things: 1) Don't spend your 20's freaking out about how OLD you're getting and how you're not ACCOMPLISHING anything, and (2) Walk the extra two blocks and avoid RBC like the plague.

It's my day off. I decided to take a trip to my RBC branch to clear up something I've been trying to deal with for years-- wanting to see my principal balance with my online accounts. Every person I talk to attached to RBC tells me something different-- I can't do it, yes I can if I make a payment online, no the payment online won't work, it's impossible, I have to go back to Ontario and open a bank account, etcetera. Until finally I was told (by the REAL Royal Bank, not their student loan centre) that if I went to my branch and spoke to an account manager, they could somehow merge all my information.

Here's the thing: I pay back my loans. I realize that there are a lot of people who default on their student loans. I'm not one of them. In fact, over the last 9 years, my average income has probably been around $20,000. Yet I've somehow managed to pay back RBC $27,000 in that time. So I don't appreciate them treating me like a deadbeat when I call them (maybe three times a year) to ask them some questions. My experience with Royal Bank? Initiating contact with them and immediately being told I'm wrong, usually for following their instructions, or asking for clarification on information they gave me.

It sucks. They suck. And there's no recourse. Because what are you going to do? Just pay off your loan, deadbeat, and get out of here. Which is totally my plan. I've seriously considered putting the remainder of my student loan on my line of credit, just to never have to deal with RBC again. The interest rate would kill me. But never having to talk to them? Ever? Sounds priceless to me.

And being able to see my balance online? Well... the receptionist told me it was impossible. I said I didn't understand why not. Then she said it might be possible... and sent me to someone who said it could absolutely be done, it was just a form that needed to be filled out. Then he called me later and said, sorry, it's impossible, but here's the National Student Loan Centre phone number, and I could just arrange to have a pin number and check my balance over the phone without having to talk to anyone. Why didn't anyone offer me this option at any time over the last five years? He doesn't know, but would I be interested in discussing my financial future with Royal Bank products? No thanks.

Called in to set up my pin-- asked a question about why their system said my next payment isn't scheduled until December. Got told "You paid an extra dollar in August so it bumped your payment."
Me: "I'm sorry, that doesn't make sense. Why would it bump October's payment?"
RBC: "It just bumped it."
Me: "I don't know what that means."
RBC: "That's just our system."
Me: "But why--"
RBC:"We have no control over our system, ma'am."
Me:"Can you please not raise your voice with me?"
RBC:"I'M NOT RAISING MY VOICE!"

Honest, I was nice and civil and everything.

But dude, seriously. You have no control over your system? Your system is running amok, rescheduling payments at will? Shouldn't this have been a headline in the Financial Post?

I wish there was some theatrical way to exact revenge. Dramatize a series of my conversations with RBC and post it on YouTube. I used to have fantasies about paying off my entire loan in pennies, just backing a dumptruck up to Royal Bank headquarters and letting fly.

Anyone else have student loan woes?

Check In

Hello, friends!
So, what news? After all of my working myself up about that film class, it turned out it was cancelled. So yay for Monday nights being free, boo to no skill-learning. I'll also be shooting my scene for that film sometime this month, so I'm looking forward to that.
I also had to turn in my proposal for the BigFancyTheatre playwrights development program, which I have mixed feelings about. They extended their deadline for me, because they'd sent all the info to the wrong email address, resulting in my having no contact with them until the reminder email I received the day of the deadline. And of course they were nice enough to give me an extension, except, having just come off of a big project, I had no actual... er... ideas.

It was a challenge to outline something the way they wanted--I don't usually do a lot of outlining right away. In fact, I tend to do a lot of thinking before I commit anything to paper-- I've ruined many a good idea by diving in too soon. Conversely, I've ruined many a good idea by waiting too long. And I guess it wasn't that I didn't have any ideas-- like a lot of writers, I have notebooks full of little snips I've jotted down. I just didn't have an idea I was crazy about. But I submitted something, something that was maybe a bit risky for the venue, but I'd rather get myself excited about something I'd write anyway than come up with something I feel lukewarm about just to get accepted.

And acceptance... well, who knows. I have a feeling they won't like my proposal. I kept it short and succinct, because I have this theory about grant proposals and such: No one wants to read your bullshit. It's tiring to write, and it's tiring to read. I'd rather be to the point and prove that I can write something interesting by virtue of having a well-written proposal. But I will admit there are a couple of people on the shortlist I'm not sure I'd want to spend several months in a group with. And there's definitely a couple of people that I will die a small death if they are accepted and I'm not, because I am petty and can't stand to think that anyone would think Person X was better than me. But I'll get over it.

Speaking of getting over stuff: singing lessons are back! And I did make a lot of improvement over the summer. But it all seems to fall apart once I get to words and music. I sing amazing warmups and exercises, but singing a song kills me and my throat gets all closed up and horrible croaking rusty-hinge sounds emerge from me. It sucks. And it's frustrating. Because children can do this. Morons can do this. Some of the meanest people I've known can do this. People who don't care about whether or not they can do this can do this. And, of course, the world doesn't work on the basis of fairness or who wants it the most, whatever reality tv may say to the contrary. But still! So my strategy this week is to pull out ye olde musical theatre books and sing away, words and music. Just quit making it be such a thing and maybe everything will work out better that way.

More frustration in the land of weight: I am exactly the same. Have been for the last 3 weeks. I seem to be looking a little thinner around the middle, and have gotten comments to that effect. But weight has been the same. Which is a pisser. I mean, I eat better than 90% of the people I know. I'm all about vegetables and fruits and whole grains. And if it's just a math thing, why won't it work for me?

Just another example of math having it in for me.

I'm also planning on doing Nanowrimo again this year (this will be my third nonconsecutive time doing it), because J is planning on giving it a shot. I'm thinking of writing some stuff that will be the basis for an internet series I have in mind. I'm a nano cheater and usually write interconnected short stories rather than one novel. Still, I've found it to be a good project that is freeing, and demonstrates how much writing I can do if I just say "I'm doing this" rather than "But I can't!"

Le sigh...

I'll start by saying I have a pretty sweet job. I work at a concert hall, selling tickets in the box office. If it's not busy I can go online, post blog posts, work on other projects, write plays, buy things on etsy, whatever. If I'm not at the front counter, I can read, knit, do my taxes, just about anything I want.

I've had a few jobs... and most of them weren't quite so lenient about me spending the day on facebook. Or openly writing a grant proposal at my desk. Right now I'm sitting here with two 19-year olds, who've just started here. They've spent most of their shift bitching about how you're not allowed to sit at the front desk reading a book, or how youtube is blocked, or how online games are blocked. And complaining about the essays they've known about for 3 week, yet left until today, since the assignment's due at midnight.

I mean, I try to be patient, because they are young. But seriously:
1) I have customers complaining at me all day, can you suck it up and not go on youtube for 4 hours?
2) you need to go work for some of my old bosses who will yell at you if you so much as look at the solitaire icon on your desktop
3) STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT YOUR NEW IPODS AND NEW IPHONES AND OTHER CRAP I CAN'T AFFORD.

Phew. That was a little cathartic.
I'm sporting new hair. My new hairdresser is fabulous. I have awesome red hair and leftover curls from how he styled it yesterday. I'm working on my play proposal for the fancy playwriting unit. Or, I am when I'm not listening to people's bitching and moaning about how sick they are of Tim Horton's.

I feel so old.

Good News, Everyone!

I booked a part in that independent film! It's just one small scene, but with lines and a credit, which is fabulous and will beef up my resume!
I also got another positive response from a theatre company (again, I know the AD) requesting to read my script! So I'm sending it out tomorrow. Monday I get started on the people I don't know-- eek!

I'm Back!

And badder than ever!

Well, not really. If anything, the last few days have taught me that maybe being a perfectionist isn't so great after all. You see, instead of making you feel perfect all the time, perfectionism makes you feel shitty all the time. And I have a feeling that giving up my penchant for perfection may be a little more difficult than quitting smoking (6 weeks tomorrow, go me!).

And now the good news... drum roll please... not only do I have an appointment with a NEW hair salon, but I finally got up the stones to sign up for that acting class. Even though I was having a bit of a panic attack on the phone and I think I sounded a little bit nervous and dumb, I signed up for the class! It starts a week from Monday.

And wait, there's more! I've been dilly-dallying about sending out my play, because... well, I'm not sure. Because I always feel awkward about effectively saying "You need to read this because it is awesome. Also, I am awesome and you should know who I am." Like I'm not awesome enough yet. Or there's a little bit of "Who do I think I am?" creeping in. But as another dear friend's guitar teacher told her: "Don't wait until you're Eric Clapton to get on stage and perform. Because you'll never become Eric Clapton if you don't get out there and do it." Basically, she told me not to spend my life waiting to be good enough. Because even if you're afraid the audience won't like it (or won't like YOU), you owe it to yourself to take the risk that they won't.

Long story short, I sent out the first of my list of queries for the play. It was to someone I know, which can make things easier or more awkward, depending on the person. I sent it out yesterday, and he emailed me back this morning requesting the script! I'm going to try and tackle one query a day this week. And meanwhile I'm going to research some theatres farther afield to try and send this thing out to.

Happy weekend, everyone!

I Tried To Wear A Cowboy Shirt...

But they only go with jeans. Unless, of course, you're wearing a fancier "black tie event" country shirt, and you've got a lot of sequins on it.

I work at a concert hall, which is a sweet job, and when you work concert duty (during an event), you have to wear black. It just so happens that I have a black cowboy shirt, which would have been PERFECT for tonight's country music event, but sadly, it just didn't go with my black dress pants. I am looking forward to seeing some of the outfits on tonight's audience, though.

I did get some things done. A lovely and amazing friend who is older and better connected than I suggested some theatres to send my play to, and is allowing me to drop his name with the folks that he knows (always helpful in not seeming like a random lunatic who writes plays). So I have a list of a few companies to get on.

When I called my hair salon, my decision seemed much easier all of a sudden. Being left on hold for 6 minutes, a rude receptionist, and a stylist whose schedule in no way works with mine suddenly made me think back to all the times I've walked out of there with colour spots on my forehead, or on my neck. Of how far from my house this salon is. Of how expensive it is, considering I feel unappreciated every time I go.

And that sounds incredibly entitled of me, I know. I'm actually not precious about my hair. But I suppose I am particular about how I'm treated. Not that I get all Caruso and ream people out for making eye contact. But I treat customers nicely at my job, I guess I expect that from places I go to as a customer.

I also got a last-minute editing job, which will bring a wee bit of extra cash into the household.

Once I get out of here after the concert, I have the whole weekend off! Which is a rarity. I plan to get a lot of guitar playing done, a little bit of sewing, and a shopping spree where J and I stock up on things like new socks and underwear, and other wintertime neccessities.

Have a fab weekend, everyone!

I Was Going to Write A Blog Post Later...

I have a list of things to do. Some of these things are easy, like calling my hair salon for an appointment. Others are slightly harder, like putting myself on tape for this indie film audition. Or writing cover letters to send my script out into the world. Or cleaning the basement so someone can come in and fix the %$*& bathtub faucet.

The point is, I have a list. And I like lists. Lists make me feel organized. The problem is sometimes, making lists can feel like action. Like I've actually done something and can continue to procrastinate. And that's where I am today. I don't know why calling my hairdresser would make me feel anxious (well, aside from the background anxiety of the fact that I want to switch salons and find the whole situation awkward), but I keep putting everything off.

Are there people in the world who don't procrastinate? Who have their list every day and check off everything, no problemo? Who are these people?

So I'm sitting here on my bed with the phone next to me, ready to make some calls (including registering for a film acting class), and determined to get it done today. The audition is more problematic. I feel iffy at best about my work on film (hence the class), and I feel like I'm putting together a PERMANENT RECORD OF HOW MUCH I SUCK for someone else to view. But it's a two minute scene. Two or three takes, the whole thing can be done and sent away in about a half an hour. So why not just do it rather than spend two days feeling ick about it?

In other news, I am down 3 pounds! Speaking of which, I am super hungry and going to have lunch while making phone calls.

Just Before You Succumb To Ennui...

Just when you're feeling like you want to leave an open can of tuna fish in the desk of everyone who works at the RBC Student Loan Centre (most decidedly NOT vegetarian), or when you're stressed out because you're worried about money and working two jobs. Just when you're feeling blue because you may never accomplish anything else creative in your life. Just when you think you're having kind of a shitty day, someone tells you this:

"I had to get a new credit card because one day VISA called me and asked if I'd just bought some drugs at a pharmacy in Houston and 2 one-way tickets to Libya. So I thought I'd better get a new card."

Sort of awesome, right? I mean, definitely better than the time I got rejected for a card because I had an outstanding Bay charge card because I used to eat at their restaurant and buy groceries in their pharmacy when I was a poor, starving student. Not really a story to dine out on, that one.

Let's Get Real...

Yes, fellow travelers, it's time to get real. Realer than real. Time to keep it real. Real it out. For realz.

OK, I don't really know what I'm talking about here. I've been trying to be honest with myself lately. Still working on making changes. Which reminds me that I don't want to be one of those people who's always "working on" changes as an excuse for never really changing anything. You know those people? Those people who are continually ambitious, who always have big plans, but never seem to actually implement them? Those folks who are always saying "next year will be my year." And they say that every year.

Yeah, I really don't want to be one of those people.

For example, I like to make lists. Lists of things I want to do, one day. Today that list might include:

1) Finish that knitted gift and mail it already!
2) Finish sewing that blouse.
3) Learn to play the ukulele.
4) Wear a size 8.
5) Do a solo show.
6) Do a cabaret.
7) Get back to yoga practice.
8) Get my website up and running.

And so on. Not that those all have to be accomplished by the end of the day, or even the end of the year. It's usually a mix of things that can be done immediately and longer-term things. But I am feeling like I get no closer to the long-term things.

And yes, of course, change is gradual. I hate gradual! I like instant gratification, I admit it. Who doesn't? But I need to quit feeling anxious and start doing stuff.

You know, how Dr. Phil is always telling people to put verbs in their sentences or chicken up the deep fryer or something.

Moping doesn't work. Scheming only works if followed by action. I need to take action!

Also, I realized the other day that I seem to hold on to a lot of negative feelings. Petty jealousies about people and their accomplishments, feelings of inadequacy, all that good stuff. I keep it all pent-up, because, well, frankly, I could spend all my time bitching and moaning, and that's certainly not healthy. But I also don't let fly with more than the regular cattiness, because I'm afraid people will think I'm a bitch. Or that they'll say "Hey, I just realized-- you are completely inadequate! FRAUD!" Or because I keep telling myself that I shouldn't feel that way. Or whatever.

I shan't vent that stuff here, either, because that's not really interesting or entertaining. But I'm thinking of doing the dreaded/revered morning pages for a while. Just clear out the crap at the beginning of the day and see what it makes room for.

For real!

The End of Summer...

I know, I know, there are still a good couple of weeks' worth of August to go, but where I live, this is when it starts getting crisp in the mornings and evenings, when the leaves start to turn. I miss my hometown most in the autumn (my favourite season), with it's longer, sweater-weather fall, its many colours. Here, things just suddenly get cold one day. We have a week or so of golden leaves, which all seem to drop at once.

It's the end of the Fringe Festival here, the big news being a local artistic director getting himself into a bit of trouble as he responds to a patron's blog more personally than professionally. Other than that, I saw some great shows, some disappointing shows, and started thinking about my next project.

I've been waiting to hear back on so many things-- my stupid health issues, this playwriting thing-y (I'm assuming a no at this point, but it would be nice to hear from the horse's mouth), even my wedding album (yes, over 10 months later, I still haven't received the wedding album that we didn't even get to proof. On my to-do list: finding the best site to make a photobook online for our parents, because you'd best believe we won't be ordering any more product from this photographer. He's my one vendor regret for the whole thing-- the pics we have are lovely, but he didn't get some of the things I asked for, and seemed a little more interested in partying at the reception than taking pictures. The sole consolation is we got a really good deal, pricewise; I suppose this may be a lesson in getting what you pay for). But I get that fleeting thought that perhaps I woke up one day set to "invisible", and never reset the switch. 2nd job boss hasn't responded about my end date, voice teacher hasn't responded about times for this year. And so on.

And that's very overdramatic of me, I know. Any one of these things I would just assume the person in question was busy, that I should be patient. But as they start to accumulate--well, they begin to gnaw away at the fragile parts of my brain.

Sitting in a show today, I was reading a friend's bio, and started my same old, same old of feeling inadequate, because she's far more accomplished than I am. Which isn't true, on paper, I'll bet we come out about even. Not that anyone's counting, so I shouldn't even be considering who comes out ahead, but you know what I mean. And I thought Why am I trying to make myself feel bad about her being "better" than me? Why can't I just appreciate what she's doing and keep going ahead with what I'm doing, because I'm obviously where I'm supposed to be?

I know. Can't you imagine several of my former shrinks suddenly sitting up in bed at that exact moment? Did I finally "get it"?

Is this what Oprah feels like when she has her "A-ha" moments? Or whatever it is her magazines are always shouting about?

Anyway. Things here are largely the same. I'll probably spend some time following up with all these people about all these subjects so I can go ahead and plan my life for the fall. Thankfully, my second job should be ending soon-- I'll miss the extra cash, but I'll love having my free time back.

Happy Sunday, friends!

No news is... bad news?

Still no word re: Vancouver. Realistically, I'm expecting a polite thanks-but-no-thanks letter in the mail, but still obsessively checking my email. Poop! However, this will free me up to take that acting for the camera class, so doors closed, windows open, and so forth.

My meeting yesterday was an invitation to apply to a very interesting playwrights unit, with possible money and even production down the line. Which is very cool. But it does mean I have to pitch a brand new idea. Something that strikes fear into my heart of hearts.

Because I have ideas, vague ideas of things I am interested in, but nothing that I'm ready to jump into, nothing I could hook you in with a story about. "I'm interested in writing a play somehow inspired by human anatomy."
ummm... okay? See, it doesn't have a story, or characters, or anything. I tend to sit on ideas for a long time before I'm ready to start writing. And I was already getting antsy about getting a new idea. Which begs the question no writer wants to ask:
Where do the ideas come from?

Always best never to examine that too closely. In case you never get another idea again, and serves you right for being snoopy.

Interestingly, the overriding themes in my work include: communion with the dead/the supernatural, and a character who is insurmountably The Other. I'm talking no one's going to teach you how to dress right and you'll fit in. I write about never fitting in and accepting that or fighting that. And, apparently, talking to dead people.

Maybe I should start there?

Excuses, Excuses...

Here is a list of excuses I am using to explain to myself why the playwriting people haven't called to invite me to Vancouver:

1) Time Zone
Vancouver is an entire hour behind us! They still have plenty of time to call!

2) Alphabetical Order
My last name is very close to the end of the alphabet. Perhaps they are working their way through applicants alphabetically!

3) They misprinted the date.
August 15 is Sunday. Perhaps what they meant was that they'd get in touch with people on Monday the 16th.

4) Like me, they have several jobs, and have forgotten what day of the week it is.

5) They're flying out to tell me in person, and got delayed at the airport.

6) They're calling everyone who didn't get in first, so they can end their phone calls on a high note.

7) They're working up the courage to call because, of course, they're afraid I'll say no.

8) They are simply not interested in my play at this time, but wish me luck in my future endeavors.

ETA on Monday:
OK, that last one isn't really an excuse, but will likely be the harsh reality. Hoping to hear one way or the other today, since it's a business day (ugh), and will let you know.

Waiting/Action

Still waiting. My least favourite thing. Tomorrow I supposedly find out whether or not I'm going to Vancouver in November. Though I'm not getting my hopes up too high for that one, I have already gotten a fair amount of funded support this year already, so I can see them wanting to spread the wealth around.

I also have a meeting on Monday, one that I was thinking nothing of until I heard through the grapevine that this person (and possibly the attached theatre company) "has big plans for me" and "has their eye on me". Whatever that means. I'm trying to to get too excited about it, since (a)suddenly being picked up for production is highly unlikely, and (b) I've been screwed over before. Instead I'm just remembering to be happy that others find my work cool and interesting, and that I'm ever-so-gradually forging ahead on the path.

I'm thinking of taking some acting classes in the fall, acting for the camera to be specific. Definitely a skill I could use some regular practice in. I'm hoping to hear one way or the other about Vancouver tomorrow so I can register (Vancouver might make me miss a couple of classes, so I'd have to check and see how they feel about that). If I do go to Vancouver, I'm definitely getting some new headshots done, so I'm shopping around for that.

And I think I have the germ of an idea for a solo show. It's still pretty hazy, but I saw the opening minute in my head and got that excited-chill feeling about it. That feeling I get when I have the grain of a good idea. Which is exciting. But not something to be rushed, and I can't really talk about it any more than that.

After my contract (second job) is done, I really need to get better about making time for myself and taking it. I have this huge list of projects I want to do, but I never get past the idea stage. It's a bad habit of mine. If I let things sit too long, it's almost like they get "spoiled" by the idea of actually doing them. Like the real thing could never live up to the idea of it that I've built up in my head or something. I think I just have to be braver. Just do things when I have the impulse instead of stewing about them.

How about another 5 in 7?
1)Log food and exercise on sparkpeople. This is a pretty awesome (and FREE) resource, and I've been faithfully tracking for the last 2 weeks.
2)Keep singing every day.
3)Finish knitting that baby blanket and send it sometime before the baby graduates high school.
4)Go see a bunch of stuff at the Fringe by people I've never heard of. Discover some new inspiration.
5)Drink enough water every day. (I'm terrible, terrible, terrible at hydration.)

Have a lovely weekend, fellow travellers.

Steven Slater, My Hero

OK, so by now I'm sure everyone's read about Steven Slater, the JetBlue flight attendant who lost it, cussed out a passenger over the intercom, grabbed some beers from the galley, activated the emergency slide, jumped out of the plane, and drove home, where he was subsequently arrested.

So maybe that's not the best way to quit a job. But as someone who has worked (and continues to work) in customer service, there's something about this story that makes me go Hells Yeah. Because haven't we all fantasized about that? Just quitting our shitty jobs in a blaze of glory, finally getting to tell our boss or our coworkers or our customers what we really think, instead of having to hold it all in for the sake of a paycheck?

Because sometimes, just sometimes, the customer is just not always right. In fact, sometimes, the customer is an entitled, unreasonable jerk. Sometimes the customer is downright nasty to you, just because they can be. That's right, as understanding as I try to be about people having a bad day, or going through something difficult emotionally and taking it out on me, I also have to recognize that some people are just, in plain terms, assholes. It held true on the playground, it held true in high school, and it still stands in the land of grownups.

Would I ever quit my job that way? Unlikely. I'm usually all polite and diplomatic, and giving my two weeks' notice. Except for my very first job-- I was fifteen and working at Suzy Shier. The glamour of having a job had quickly worn thin, and I was pissed that I couldn't get the time off to attend an INXS concert. Michael Hutchence was still alive, my friends, and I was determined to see him in all his sexiness. (Actually, I think I was in love with the drummer even more than with Michael, but I digress.) I tried to call in sick for that shift, when my boss (she of multiple-colored eyeliners, and big hair-sprayed bangs) quite rightly accused me of faking my illness to go to the concert.

And, completely offended, I quit. Which was ridiculous, because I was totally faking. I thought it was all very romantic, that I was somehow sticking it to the man for my love of the music, and I went to the concert. I think I still have the t-shirt, actually.

On Having Patience

Right now, I am trying to be patient. Not one of my strengths. I can endure things, I can look forward to things, but I like to know what's going to happen. I try to be a catalyst, to take charge and make things happen. I'm not so great at the "wait and see" approach to life.

And, of course, that's what a lot of life is like. Go figure.

So, I'm waiting to hear back about another playwrights' colony, this time in Vancouver. Decisions are supposed to be announced next weekend, leaving you to wonder: do they let successful applicants know a little earlier and just send out the Fuck You letters on the date? Does knowing that matter? Not really. But, like analyzing a bad date with your girlfriends, it's sometimes nice to turn over the minutiae in your mind.

I'm waiting to see if I can get my chub a little bit under control. I've been fabulously healthy in my eating, all the fruits and veg, tracking everything, no sweets, no treats. Exercising a lot more. And, of course, the thrilling pee test I mentioned in my last post. Cross your fingers for me tomorrow, guys! I know you'll be itching for updates. Waiting to see if the scale moves down. Or at least stops moving up.

I think I'm going to spend my pee day sewing, since J has been called in to work that day. Now that the studio is actually clean (and has room for my new ironing board), I'm hoping to get some work done more often.

I'm actually thinking of starting a separate blog-- I just haven't thought of a good title yet. Basically it would focus on vintage sewing, a little vintage style, and making vintage recipes, vegetarian style.

This blog will remain where it is for the purposes of talking about me, my career, and my angst.