Seriously. Not to harp on this, because I think I've mentioned it before, but it's getting a little ridiculous, and I want to know what the hell, please.
Today I was talking to a film dude and he asked how old I was. I hesitated... I've actually decided not to volunteer that information, since I'm newer at this -- best to let people think I'm younger than think of me as an old lady starting out where the 22-year-olds are. But I did tell him I'm 30, and he was all, "shut up!" And I was all, "nuh-uh, serious!" (No, I don't talk like that. That was sarcasm. That's NOT why people think I'm 12.)
Earlier this week I was playing floorball and we were picking teams. The guy we all knew to be the oldest one there suggested we go by age -- oldest and youngest to start with. A few people looked at me, although some know my age. The other contender for youngest said that would probably be me (I mean, me, not him referring to himself -- I GOTTA start using quotation marks more fastidiously). I said, uh, no, I'm pretty sure it's you, and asked his age. TWENTY-THREE. A Twenty-three-year-old thought I was younger than TWENTY-THREE.
Fuchrissake.
One of the first times I went to floorball, people asked if I was going to the bar with them afterward. Another of the young 'uns asked if I was old enough to drink. I assumed that was a joke and said aww, he's my new best friend, etc. Now I gotta wonder if he was FREAKING SERIOUS.
I mean, we all want to stay youthful (HA, I acutally just mistyped "useful" there -- freudian?), it's been pounded into our psyches by the magazines and such. I'd like to be a youthful 30, sure. BUT I AM NOT 22. I haven't been for some time. I'd LIKE to think I've had some life experiences in that time that have given me at least SOME essence of wisdom, even the hardships. (Don't get me wrong, I'm lucky for the extent of the hardships I've had in my life -- still, I HAVE had my problems.) Does NOTHING I've done show on my face? Hell, even 5 years of fucking doorknobs oughta get me something.
Anyway. I'm starting to get a little pissed off about this. Looking young is one thing, but people thinking you're hardly more than a child is upsetting. I KNOW it's partly my voice. This is why (OK, it's not WHY, but it doesn't help me change the fact that) I smoke. Maybe some day I will sound like a real grownup. But in the meantime, PLEASE, can someone tell me how to ACT MORE LIKE THE ADULT THAT I AM?
(NOTE: I do not mean that in any sense of the phrase that my mother would presume. I'm not going to poop out a kid or buy a house or whatever "grownups" are supposed to do. How can I be myself, yet be seen as an adult version of that self?)
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Sweeeeet justice and the few sources of excitement in my daily existence
They caught the little bastards. It was the first two little guys who were still in the rink that I yelled at first! One of the ones I KNEW was lying! (Although the leader was the cute wide-eyed innocent looking one who did the talking -- there's a punk in the making.) So I feel good that a) they got in trouble, b) I WAS FUCKING RIGHT, and c) that those little fucks are banned from the park from now on (per the park lady). She said they'd try to get my money back, but I said it's not a big deal, I'm just glad the little shits got in trouble. MAYBE one or two less grownup thugs in the making? Doubt it, but I gotta have the hope that something good will come of this besides a bunch of kids getting a pizza party on me (which is what they did with it -- I guess that's good thing #d -- they didn't buy their first crack pipe or anything. Almost touchingly wholesome, really).
It's hot, so I put my window AC in. GodDAMN that thing is loud, and it's right behind my head when I sit on my couch, making it very difficult to watch movies. Last night I was watching a French one with subtitles (Cache), so that was OK, then had to turn the AC off for my partially English movie (Babel). Tonight I watch Trainspotters (yes, FINALLY -- I've been yelled at many times for not having seen it yet) -- subtitles, turn of the AC -- or both??
Yesterday I went to Goodwill and got some actually really cool stuff! I highly recommend it. Some of their clothes aren't a great deal (most clothes are $5 -- sorry, that's too much for most of it, especially the t-shirt/men's undershirt that I just bought at Target brand-new for $10 for a 2-pack -- WTF?). But their t-shirts (excpet cheap undershirts, apparently) are mostly $2 each. I also found the coolest Japanese schoolkid backpack in brand-new condition for $3.
Today I go to garage sales and Ragstock. I need t-shirts for work now that I'm not dressing up anymore. Actual t-shirts, as in high neckline, as in I can do my job without flashing the world every time I bend over.
I wish I didn't have boobs. Ack, I typed that word again! Bleah!
I also need a large cooler with wheels (so I can be the bestest PA ever -- comes with own action cooler!) and two pitchers (I just learned how to make cold press, the loveliest of the coffee beverages).
So wow, those are the kinds of exciting things I have to talk about when I actually have a whole weekend to myself. Now you wish I was still harping on my film career, don't you? Bwaahahahahahaaaa.
FOUR MORE DAYS OF FUCKING DOORKNOBS (because I'm taking Wednesday off to make an egg commercial). Fuckin' sweet. My replacement starts on Monday, so I get to start training him. :P I really don't feel like training a new person and pretending I DON'T hate this place with a blinding passion, but then, he's gonna figure the place out soon enough. I was gonna say, "unless he's stupid." But even stupid people figure it out within a couple weeks.
It's hot, so I put my window AC in. GodDAMN that thing is loud, and it's right behind my head when I sit on my couch, making it very difficult to watch movies. Last night I was watching a French one with subtitles (Cache), so that was OK, then had to turn the AC off for my partially English movie (Babel). Tonight I watch Trainspotters (yes, FINALLY -- I've been yelled at many times for not having seen it yet) -- subtitles, turn of the AC -- or both??
Yesterday I went to Goodwill and got some actually really cool stuff! I highly recommend it. Some of their clothes aren't a great deal (most clothes are $5 -- sorry, that's too much for most of it, especially the t-shirt/men's undershirt that I just bought at Target brand-new for $10 for a 2-pack -- WTF?). But their t-shirts (excpet cheap undershirts, apparently) are mostly $2 each. I also found the coolest Japanese schoolkid backpack in brand-new condition for $3.
Today I go to garage sales and Ragstock. I need t-shirts for work now that I'm not dressing up anymore. Actual t-shirts, as in high neckline, as in I can do my job without flashing the world every time I bend over.
I wish I didn't have boobs. Ack, I typed that word again! Bleah!
I also need a large cooler with wheels (so I can be the bestest PA ever -- comes with own action cooler!) and two pitchers (I just learned how to make cold press, the loveliest of the coffee beverages).
So wow, those are the kinds of exciting things I have to talk about when I actually have a whole weekend to myself. Now you wish I was still harping on my film career, don't you? Bwaahahahahahaaaa.
FOUR MORE DAYS OF FUCKING DOORKNOBS (because I'm taking Wednesday off to make an egg commercial). Fuckin' sweet. My replacement starts on Monday, so I get to start training him. :P I really don't feel like training a new person and pretending I DON'T hate this place with a blinding passion, but then, he's gonna figure the place out soon enough. I was gonna say, "unless he's stupid." But even stupid people figure it out within a couple weeks.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
A valuable lesson
Well, today I learned one. I went to the park to play floorball, and I left my purse right outside of the hockey rink where we play. Everyone else leaves backpacks, etc. there (no purses, I was the only girl), and you can see people standing UP behind the wall. And I was on the phone and running late and I just didn't think.
A bunch of little children were watching us for a few minutes, then helped themselves to the extra sticks and balls and started playing at the other end of the rink. After a few nervous looks amongst ourselves, we sort of non-verbally came to the consensus to be nice, I guess, and let them play, made sure they were safe and stayed out of the way where we might run them over.
We get done and I see my purse there. Just as a precaution, I check my wallet.
My cash is gone. I figure I had about $34 (I'm not 100% sure, unfortunately -- I think there was a 20, two 5's, and about four 1's). Not a huge sum, but in my current circumstances, that's groceries and "going out" money for a week.
Some of the kids were still there. I surprised myself with my bold demeanor and my ability to be stern, possibly harsh, but totally in control and not swearing (because based on past experiences with being burglarized, I wanted to freak out on their little asses). I marched up to the two still on the court and demanded to know which of their little friends stole money out of my purse. I don't remember the chain of events, but we ended up in a nearby corner of the park with the rest of them, asking them who took my money.
Those little shits just lied. Some other kids did it. Uh-huh. All but two looked innocent, but those two gave it away. One asked me if it was a $20 bill or something. If I'd had a little more presence of mind, I would have nailed her on that -- how did she know there was a 20? I pretty much gave up -- if I called the cops, the little shits would be home and in bed by the time the fuzz showed up. As I was walking away in disgust, a lady from the park walked up -- I just said it was my own goddamn fault and kept walking. I guess she told the other guys that those kids are a bunch of little thieves. The guys agreed later that the little fuckers were lying.
You know what pisses me off more than anything? That I left my fucking purse sitting out where a bunch of little fucking kids could get to it. And that there was nothing I could do about it, and they knew it. If I had taken one menacing step in their direction I'D be arrested, and the 8-10 or so of them could scatter if the cops actually did show up. And even if they caught them, what could the cops do?
And I'm disgusted that we were nice to these little shitheads. Next time, if there is a next time (some of the guys are talking about not going back, but honestly I say we just know better than to be trusting next time -- why give up our park?), one kid steps up to the side of the rink and I'm all over it like flies on shit, baby. Or whatever the phrase is. I'm not afraid of a bunch of little rat children.
THIS is why I'll never fucking breed. Although I'm sure this is a case of shitty parenting. But this is our future, guys. My friend was just telling me about the movie Idiocracy, the upshot of which is that the stupid people keep breeding like bunnies and the smart people, you know, focus on their careers instead of having children, and in 500 years our country is populated with a bunch of halfwits. Not so far from the truth.
I should address this too: part of the reason everyone went easy on them playing with our gear is that they were all black/latino. You know what? Fuck that, you steal my shit, I don't care if you're fucking Jon Benet Ramsey (pretty little white girl, aren't we supposed to love them bestest?). My early childhood was on the "wrong side of town," if my little town has one of those, and I know damn well I hung out with little white kids who would have done the same. In high school I hung out with a bunch of older white kids who I later found out were burglarizing businesses. So fuck that, don't mess with me and don't think I'm going to meekly walk away because you're a) 8, b) black, c) anything else that allegedly qualifies you for my pity. Or that, really, is supposed to make me feel guilty enough about who I am that I'm too afraid to speak out. Because you know what? Besides the odd Post-its from work and some signs in my rebellious days in high school, I've never stolen a goddamn thing in my life. Never even shoplifted a Tootsie Roll. You know why? I could say my parents told me not to, but the other kids' parents did too, I'm sure. They were mostly Catholic, the religion of guilt and prohibitions. I didn't steal stuff because I FUCKING KNEW IT WASN'T MINE AND IT WAS WRONG.
You know what else? It could have been way worse. They could have taken my whole purse, including my keys, my cell phone, my check card, my ID, my checkbook, my day planner (shit!) and oh, say in the case of the last motherfucker who stole my shit, things like keys to a coworker's house and directions to get there, my social security card, my bank info... Anything else? So I was fucking lucky it was only children who only know how to use cash and only took what they could hide on their persons. And, hey, they didn't take the keys and help themselves to my car.
But let this be a lesson to all: people suck. If there's anything they can take from you, you best assume they will. (Unless it's a case like my brother's mugging, where they in fact seemed only interested in beating the shit out of someone -- they took $8 from his wallet, but left his Discman on the ground next to his bloody body.) If you leave your shit unattended for any reason, it may not be your FAULT someone else's actions resulted in the loss of said shit, but you really have no one to blame but your own stupid naive-assed self.
A bunch of little children were watching us for a few minutes, then helped themselves to the extra sticks and balls and started playing at the other end of the rink. After a few nervous looks amongst ourselves, we sort of non-verbally came to the consensus to be nice, I guess, and let them play, made sure they were safe and stayed out of the way where we might run them over.
We get done and I see my purse there. Just as a precaution, I check my wallet.
My cash is gone. I figure I had about $34 (I'm not 100% sure, unfortunately -- I think there was a 20, two 5's, and about four 1's). Not a huge sum, but in my current circumstances, that's groceries and "going out" money for a week.
Some of the kids were still there. I surprised myself with my bold demeanor and my ability to be stern, possibly harsh, but totally in control and not swearing (because based on past experiences with being burglarized, I wanted to freak out on their little asses). I marched up to the two still on the court and demanded to know which of their little friends stole money out of my purse. I don't remember the chain of events, but we ended up in a nearby corner of the park with the rest of them, asking them who took my money.
Those little shits just lied. Some other kids did it. Uh-huh. All but two looked innocent, but those two gave it away. One asked me if it was a $20 bill or something. If I'd had a little more presence of mind, I would have nailed her on that -- how did she know there was a 20? I pretty much gave up -- if I called the cops, the little shits would be home and in bed by the time the fuzz showed up. As I was walking away in disgust, a lady from the park walked up -- I just said it was my own goddamn fault and kept walking. I guess she told the other guys that those kids are a bunch of little thieves. The guys agreed later that the little fuckers were lying.
You know what pisses me off more than anything? That I left my fucking purse sitting out where a bunch of little fucking kids could get to it. And that there was nothing I could do about it, and they knew it. If I had taken one menacing step in their direction I'D be arrested, and the 8-10 or so of them could scatter if the cops actually did show up. And even if they caught them, what could the cops do?
And I'm disgusted that we were nice to these little shitheads. Next time, if there is a next time (some of the guys are talking about not going back, but honestly I say we just know better than to be trusting next time -- why give up our park?), one kid steps up to the side of the rink and I'm all over it like flies on shit, baby. Or whatever the phrase is. I'm not afraid of a bunch of little rat children.
THIS is why I'll never fucking breed. Although I'm sure this is a case of shitty parenting. But this is our future, guys. My friend was just telling me about the movie Idiocracy, the upshot of which is that the stupid people keep breeding like bunnies and the smart people, you know, focus on their careers instead of having children, and in 500 years our country is populated with a bunch of halfwits. Not so far from the truth.
I should address this too: part of the reason everyone went easy on them playing with our gear is that they were all black/latino. You know what? Fuck that, you steal my shit, I don't care if you're fucking Jon Benet Ramsey (pretty little white girl, aren't we supposed to love them bestest?). My early childhood was on the "wrong side of town," if my little town has one of those, and I know damn well I hung out with little white kids who would have done the same. In high school I hung out with a bunch of older white kids who I later found out were burglarizing businesses. So fuck that, don't mess with me and don't think I'm going to meekly walk away because you're a) 8, b) black, c) anything else that allegedly qualifies you for my pity. Or that, really, is supposed to make me feel guilty enough about who I am that I'm too afraid to speak out. Because you know what? Besides the odd Post-its from work and some signs in my rebellious days in high school, I've never stolen a goddamn thing in my life. Never even shoplifted a Tootsie Roll. You know why? I could say my parents told me not to, but the other kids' parents did too, I'm sure. They were mostly Catholic, the religion of guilt and prohibitions. I didn't steal stuff because I FUCKING KNEW IT WASN'T MINE AND IT WAS WRONG.
You know what else? It could have been way worse. They could have taken my whole purse, including my keys, my cell phone, my check card, my ID, my checkbook, my day planner (shit!) and oh, say in the case of the last motherfucker who stole my shit, things like keys to a coworker's house and directions to get there, my social security card, my bank info... Anything else? So I was fucking lucky it was only children who only know how to use cash and only took what they could hide on their persons. And, hey, they didn't take the keys and help themselves to my car.
But let this be a lesson to all: people suck. If there's anything they can take from you, you best assume they will. (Unless it's a case like my brother's mugging, where they in fact seemed only interested in beating the shit out of someone -- they took $8 from his wallet, but left his Discman on the ground next to his bloody body.) If you leave your shit unattended for any reason, it may not be your FAULT someone else's actions resulted in the loss of said shit, but you really have no one to blame but your own stupid naive-assed self.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Awright, I pose
I just realized I posted a couple of my most inane posts right after a certain goat/cat lady linked to me from her bloggedy blog. Which really just fuels the conversation she started about the whole blog phenomena. Do I suddenly think people are buyin' what I been sellin', and does/should it make a difference in what I post? Why or why not? Discuss.
However, if, like, Goatmaiden's mom suddenly picked this day to see what Ashcan-Rantings is all about, well, talking about almost puking into a wastebasket is probably not my best work. So skip that one, Goatmom, if indeed you are out there ;)
Here is my own weird thought of the day: my hands are starting to show their age. And I like it. Old hands are way prettier than plain old smooth ones. My veins stick out.
OK, so I thrive on the inane.
I might be working on commercials with giant eggs in them soon. And a Manhattan-based outfit is looking for a PA but didn't mention what day. Heh. Makes me less paranoid about typos on my resume.
NINE MORE DAYS of fucking doorknobs.
However, if, like, Goatmaiden's mom suddenly picked this day to see what Ashcan-Rantings is all about, well, talking about almost puking into a wastebasket is probably not my best work. So skip that one, Goatmom, if indeed you are out there ;)
Here is my own weird thought of the day: my hands are starting to show their age. And I like it. Old hands are way prettier than plain old smooth ones. My veins stick out.
OK, so I thrive on the inane.
I might be working on commercials with giant eggs in them soon. And a Manhattan-based outfit is looking for a PA but didn't mention what day. Heh. Makes me less paranoid about typos on my resume.
NINE MORE DAYS of fucking doorknobs.
WTF
See below how I had a stomach ache last night -- I almost puked in my garbage can at work today. Food poisoning again? Something. I suddenly felt really nauseous, broke out in a cold sweat all over, and was shaky. Someone told me I looked terrible and I went in the bathroom and I was seriously green. Then it passed, but my legs ached all day. Pleah. I'm feeling better now than this morning, but still not great. I hate it!
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Iowans are the wrost drivers
Family reunion was very fun -- so good to see everyone! My brother and I stayed in one of the worst hotels I've been in (and as I'm quick to point out, I've stayed in some of the worst hotels in the country -- I have LOW standards), but at least we had our own bathroom. With a shower. The house would have been a little crowded, plus grandma paid for our room, since we couldn't even afford that, let alone the Holiday Inn everyone else was staying at. Had to share a room with the bro, which was actually kind of fun. Not that we really did anything but watch TV -- no drunk-fests or deep conversations -- but it's good to spend time with him once in a while.
I don't feel so great right now. It could be because I had more sugar this weekend than I've had all year.
Cats survived the weekend alone, all 8 limbs still seem to be attached. I must admit that I do worry about my boys.
That's about all I have to say right now. It's really hot and my tummy hurts, so I think I'm going to watch a little Monty Python and go to bed.
I don't feel so great right now. It could be because I had more sugar this weekend than I've had all year.
Cats survived the weekend alone, all 8 limbs still seem to be attached. I must admit that I do worry about my boys.
That's about all I have to say right now. It's really hot and my tummy hurts, so I think I'm going to watch a little Monty Python and go to bed.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Today I turned in
My letter of resignation!
It went pretty well. Word got around fast (I figured no one would tell anyone, and the day after I left, people would say, hey, I didn't know Kristina quit... Happened to a friend of mine who just left this place, actually).
I wasn't sure if I was going to tell them what I was going to do, but everyone asked, and I didn't really want to be a bitch about it, so I told them. Probably a good thing, really, because then it looks like I'm leaving just because of that and not also because I hate that place. Not that I don't WANT to tell them that, but I really am trying to take the high road.
Today was really busy, and again I was getting annoyed, even at the people I mostly like. They're concerned that I don't leave them a mess when I leave, yet I can't walk by them without them pulling me into a totally pointless conversation, and I can't get them to voluntarily help with anything (if I do extricate myself from said conversation, they continue it for another half hour), and I really don't want to put any effort on my part into asking them to please help with some of this shit. But for god's sake, when I tell you I have 18 jobs, shipments or follow-ups that I need to do ASAP (and maybe have time to do half of them today if I really, really, really book ass), don't assume I'm exaggerating -- that's an actual count I had at one point, and I later realized I had forgotten a couple of things on that list -- so can you please stop bugging me? It would be easier to just slack off and not do it, but I'm TRYING to be a good person here, people! Anyway, if it continues I'll just let it go and be a slacker. It's for their benefit that I'm trying to be good. And I guess just to have the knowledge that I'm a good person. Eh, I know I'm a saint for dealing with this place for as long as I have. ;) Who wouldn't screw off and do as little as possible after giving their notice?
So that's that. Haven't progressed too much with the film stuff yet, but now that I'm free to put myself out there as much as I want, that's the next order of business. Got a non-paying job tonight & the showing of Saturday's project on Thurs., then leaving town for the weekend for my family reunion -- ack! So I guess Wednesday I'll be making some phone calls. Or maybe Monday. Because luck will dictate that if I call people right before a weekend I'm not available, I'll get all kinds of offers I'll have to turn down for the weekend... Could be worse, I guess. Next week I talk to a rental house to see if they'll hire me to as a grip-truck-stocker so I can learn more about gripping. And maybe get a class-whatever license so I can drive the trucks.
It went pretty well. Word got around fast (I figured no one would tell anyone, and the day after I left, people would say, hey, I didn't know Kristina quit... Happened to a friend of mine who just left this place, actually).
I wasn't sure if I was going to tell them what I was going to do, but everyone asked, and I didn't really want to be a bitch about it, so I told them. Probably a good thing, really, because then it looks like I'm leaving just because of that and not also because I hate that place. Not that I don't WANT to tell them that, but I really am trying to take the high road.
Today was really busy, and again I was getting annoyed, even at the people I mostly like. They're concerned that I don't leave them a mess when I leave, yet I can't walk by them without them pulling me into a totally pointless conversation, and I can't get them to voluntarily help with anything (if I do extricate myself from said conversation, they continue it for another half hour), and I really don't want to put any effort on my part into asking them to please help with some of this shit. But for god's sake, when I tell you I have 18 jobs, shipments or follow-ups that I need to do ASAP (and maybe have time to do half of them today if I really, really, really book ass), don't assume I'm exaggerating -- that's an actual count I had at one point, and I later realized I had forgotten a couple of things on that list -- so can you please stop bugging me? It would be easier to just slack off and not do it, but I'm TRYING to be a good person here, people! Anyway, if it continues I'll just let it go and be a slacker. It's for their benefit that I'm trying to be good. And I guess just to have the knowledge that I'm a good person. Eh, I know I'm a saint for dealing with this place for as long as I have. ;) Who wouldn't screw off and do as little as possible after giving their notice?
So that's that. Haven't progressed too much with the film stuff yet, but now that I'm free to put myself out there as much as I want, that's the next order of business. Got a non-paying job tonight & the showing of Saturday's project on Thurs., then leaving town for the weekend for my family reunion -- ack! So I guess Wednesday I'll be making some phone calls. Or maybe Monday. Because luck will dictate that if I call people right before a weekend I'm not available, I'll get all kinds of offers I'll have to turn down for the weekend... Could be worse, I guess. Next week I talk to a rental house to see if they'll hire me to as a grip-truck-stocker so I can learn more about gripping. And maybe get a class-whatever license so I can drive the trucks.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Being poor sucks
Man, you can't buy much with yer money these days. I'm trying to be poor, and it's harder than I thought. You really can't do anything, and it's really hard to eat healthy. I think I did a good job today. A lot of sandwiches and crackers (Triscuits and Wheat Thins on sale for $1.49/box!), but I got some pitas, hummus, tomato, cucumber and sprouts. My favorite sandwich (try it with roasted red peppers).
I'm also trying to go vegan, which I don't think will be 100% possible right now. I just saw a movie called Earthlings that was probably the most disturbing thing I've ever seen, addressing the way humans use animals, who are just as much earthlings as we are, for various purposes (food, pets, clothing, medical testing, etc.). And I feel horrible, because I was like, dammit, I'm going vegan. Then forgot and put cream in my coffee, then ate this or that because it was easier.
However, freelancing=poor, and I have to take advantage of free food as much as possible. So at home and at restaurants, I am vegan. At other people's houses (such as my family reunion next weekend, when my 80-year-old gramma has enough to worry about) and on shoots, I will be as good as possible but will still eat the occasional cheese. As everyone has pointed out, my not eating animal products won't actually make a difference. It's just my choice not to participate in that. Or at least to avoid it as much as possble.
This week I worked on an Ultimate Fighting Championship show, which was... Well, I made some money. For the most part it was pretty good, actually, but there were some issues at the end which left me with a pretty bad taste. (They tried to passive-aggressively -- without even coming out and telling me this was what they expected me to do until I asked about 3 times how exactly they were planning to do this when they were leaving at 5 am -- get me to take 5 or more large boxes to FedEx on my own time after the shoot was done and I was done being paid. I couldn't do it because I was working, and frankly was glad I had the excuse, because the truth is that's bullshit, yet they weren't too happy that I couldn't do it. Hey, hire me for 4 days instead of 3 if there's still stuff to be done the day after you leave, but don't expect me to take another day off work to do your shit for free. Or to do your shit for free when I was planning to sit at home on my ass anyway. Or even to do your shit for free when it's on my way to somewhere else and wouldn't take much of my time. You can afford to buy sushi and organic $10 sandwiches for lunch every day, then you can pay the damn PA.) Ah, the more I work with out-of-towners, the more I love them. (OK, the SD people I worked with were really nice. I would have said CA people, but some of these were based in Las Vegas and at least 2 were originally from the East Coast.) And I'm sorry, if they ever see this I'll never work in this town again (ha), but the makeup girl was way more of a diva about having to have everything exactly to her weird standards than the talent (who was totally fine about stuff). Does the makeup chick get to be that way?? When do I get to be a demanding brat?? Whiiiiine, there's not enough chicken on my salad. Well, let's show the waitress who just told us TWICE (because you made me ask TWICE) that that IS extra chicken. Well, I already ate it. So you want me to go tell her that wasn't enough chicken, but you already ate it? Never mind, it's fine. No, no, I'll buy you more chicken if you want more chicken. I didn't eat lunch yesterday, I can go without again today. No, it's fine, never mind. AUGH.
So whine about my new career. I know being a PA sucks, and that's OK. It's a rite of passage, everyone has to put in their time. And it depends on who you're working with -- it can be a great way to learn different departments while not being expected to know everything already when you get there. (That's why it pays less.) But jobs like this, well, they're there to keep me fed through the month. And to get me that much closer to real jobs if possible. THIS isn't what I want to do.
Now, yesterday's shoot, another story. Unpaid, of course, but I was a grip on a 48 Hour Film Project contender (of which there are like 80 in Mpls, because we rock), where you get 48 hrs. to write, produce and edit/post a short film. Ours is great, I'm so happy I got in with this group. And I got to grip without feeling like I'm unworthy and thrown into a situation that was over my head, so it was really good experience for me. The people were nice, I saw a few I knew before, and I really like the guy who brought me on -- I met him at the show I worked on last Friday (where I dolly gripped -- he was the camera operator). It's nice when you meet people you really like working with and have prospects of working with them again. That's what it's all about -- good people, good projects, etc. So I hope that goes somewhere. He's part of a production company, so I'm hoping that could turn into something. If I didn't mention that here, Drinking with Ian (the one I dolly gripped on last week) was GREAT. I met so many good people, worked with people I've worked with before (all ones I liked, too), and it was a GREAT opportunity. Dolly grip is one of the things I'd like to specialize in, if you can specialize around here. (Not really, but at least I'd like people to think of me when they think of dolly grips.)
Babbly babble babble.
It's coming along. Feeling pretty good about things. Need to get out there and start getting hired once I'm unencumbered with this stupid job.
I'm also trying to go vegan, which I don't think will be 100% possible right now. I just saw a movie called Earthlings that was probably the most disturbing thing I've ever seen, addressing the way humans use animals, who are just as much earthlings as we are, for various purposes (food, pets, clothing, medical testing, etc.). And I feel horrible, because I was like, dammit, I'm going vegan. Then forgot and put cream in my coffee, then ate this or that because it was easier.
However, freelancing=poor, and I have to take advantage of free food as much as possible. So at home and at restaurants, I am vegan. At other people's houses (such as my family reunion next weekend, when my 80-year-old gramma has enough to worry about) and on shoots, I will be as good as possible but will still eat the occasional cheese. As everyone has pointed out, my not eating animal products won't actually make a difference. It's just my choice not to participate in that. Or at least to avoid it as much as possble.
This week I worked on an Ultimate Fighting Championship show, which was... Well, I made some money. For the most part it was pretty good, actually, but there were some issues at the end which left me with a pretty bad taste. (They tried to passive-aggressively -- without even coming out and telling me this was what they expected me to do until I asked about 3 times how exactly they were planning to do this when they were leaving at 5 am -- get me to take 5 or more large boxes to FedEx on my own time after the shoot was done and I was done being paid. I couldn't do it because I was working, and frankly was glad I had the excuse, because the truth is that's bullshit, yet they weren't too happy that I couldn't do it. Hey, hire me for 4 days instead of 3 if there's still stuff to be done the day after you leave, but don't expect me to take another day off work to do your shit for free. Or to do your shit for free when I was planning to sit at home on my ass anyway. Or even to do your shit for free when it's on my way to somewhere else and wouldn't take much of my time. You can afford to buy sushi and organic $10 sandwiches for lunch every day, then you can pay the damn PA.) Ah, the more I work with out-of-towners, the more I love them. (OK, the SD people I worked with were really nice. I would have said CA people, but some of these were based in Las Vegas and at least 2 were originally from the East Coast.) And I'm sorry, if they ever see this I'll never work in this town again (ha), but the makeup girl was way more of a diva about having to have everything exactly to her weird standards than the talent (who was totally fine about stuff). Does the makeup chick get to be that way?? When do I get to be a demanding brat?? Whiiiiine, there's not enough chicken on my salad. Well, let's show the waitress who just told us TWICE (because you made me ask TWICE) that that IS extra chicken. Well, I already ate it. So you want me to go tell her that wasn't enough chicken, but you already ate it? Never mind, it's fine. No, no, I'll buy you more chicken if you want more chicken. I didn't eat lunch yesterday, I can go without again today. No, it's fine, never mind. AUGH.
So whine about my new career. I know being a PA sucks, and that's OK. It's a rite of passage, everyone has to put in their time. And it depends on who you're working with -- it can be a great way to learn different departments while not being expected to know everything already when you get there. (That's why it pays less.) But jobs like this, well, they're there to keep me fed through the month. And to get me that much closer to real jobs if possible. THIS isn't what I want to do.
Now, yesterday's shoot, another story. Unpaid, of course, but I was a grip on a 48 Hour Film Project contender (of which there are like 80 in Mpls, because we rock), where you get 48 hrs. to write, produce and edit/post a short film. Ours is great, I'm so happy I got in with this group. And I got to grip without feeling like I'm unworthy and thrown into a situation that was over my head, so it was really good experience for me. The people were nice, I saw a few I knew before, and I really like the guy who brought me on -- I met him at the show I worked on last Friday (where I dolly gripped -- he was the camera operator). It's nice when you meet people you really like working with and have prospects of working with them again. That's what it's all about -- good people, good projects, etc. So I hope that goes somewhere. He's part of a production company, so I'm hoping that could turn into something. If I didn't mention that here, Drinking with Ian (the one I dolly gripped on last week) was GREAT. I met so many good people, worked with people I've worked with before (all ones I liked, too), and it was a GREAT opportunity. Dolly grip is one of the things I'd like to specialize in, if you can specialize around here. (Not really, but at least I'd like people to think of me when they think of dolly grips.)
Babbly babble babble.
It's coming along. Feeling pretty good about things. Need to get out there and start getting hired once I'm unencumbered with this stupid job.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Soon to be future Ms. Unemployed America
Yes, folks, the time has come. As much as I thought it would be a labored, frightening leap into the black abyss, it really wasn't: I'm quitting my day job and freelancing full time! Yep. It's official -- all except for telling my job, that is.
Here's what happened: Tuesday I was talking to the hockey guys and mentioned I'd had to turn down 2 paying weekday jobs, and they said, oh, you don't want to do THAT. And I started thinking, my god, I've put myself out there, begged to be hired, then when people called, said, yeah, uh, can't really do that. NOT COOL. So I tossed and turned into the night. When I finally slept, I was having a dream about freelancing when awakened by my cats at about 4 am. I didn't get back to sleep after that, lying there wondering what I should do. All day I thought about it. That night I barely slept again (this was not helped by my cough that won't go away, mind you -- haven't slept well in a couple weeks -- I will only briefly mention that I fully believe that this is brought on by the noxious fumes from the welding shop attached to my office by a semi-insulated corrugated wall and a door that opens and closes about twice a minute. And yes, I'm finally going to call OSHA about it).
Thursday I was sitting there at work miles away in my own little world, thinking about all this when I sat up and said, OK, wait, I've been saving up for a little while now -- how much money do I have, vs. how much money do I need? I started doing some math. And I realized that, effective immediately, if I limit my non-set-bill spending (groceries, gas, beers etc.) to a certain, very low amount, I can probably get by through September with NO paying jobs if I work here through June.
When September rolls around, either I: am making a living and will continue to, am making a living but jobs will drop off, or am not making a living, and if it's either of the 2 latter I will go out and get temp office jobs until things pick up again. Temp jobs are always easy enough to get, and I have enough office experience now that I should make decent money. I've verified with people who've worked temp that this is still the case -- you can pretty much get a job immediately.
How simple and foolproof is that? And of course I'll make SOME money, so I think I can afford a vegetable once in a while (instead of living on pbj's, my plan until things pick up). I will also be able to get a beer or two with industry people for networking purposes from time to time (and so as not to go crazy).
I talked to my mom today and didn't mention that I'm quitting, smirkedy smirk. I don't know if I'll ever tell her. I rarely talk about my doorknob job anyway, and I won't lie, but if she doesn't specifically ask, "are you still working at that job?" I don't think I'll bring it up. Maybe if I make it for like a year and haven't asked her for one red cent I'll tell her.
Anyhoo. I've got a lot coming up already (taking time off work -- shhh!) and am feeling pretty confident about the whole thing despite some of my more experienced friends not being too enthusiastic about their own prospects. (Hard to compare me to them, though -- I'm a cheapass PA, not a producer or gaffer/grip/all-around kickass individual with a ton of equipment who knows everything and therefore costs more than lil ol me). Feeling pretty good, yet not dangerously manic about it. Ahhhh.
Here's what happened: Tuesday I was talking to the hockey guys and mentioned I'd had to turn down 2 paying weekday jobs, and they said, oh, you don't want to do THAT. And I started thinking, my god, I've put myself out there, begged to be hired, then when people called, said, yeah, uh, can't really do that. NOT COOL. So I tossed and turned into the night. When I finally slept, I was having a dream about freelancing when awakened by my cats at about 4 am. I didn't get back to sleep after that, lying there wondering what I should do. All day I thought about it. That night I barely slept again (this was not helped by my cough that won't go away, mind you -- haven't slept well in a couple weeks -- I will only briefly mention that I fully believe that this is brought on by the noxious fumes from the welding shop attached to my office by a semi-insulated corrugated wall and a door that opens and closes about twice a minute. And yes, I'm finally going to call OSHA about it).
Thursday I was sitting there at work miles away in my own little world, thinking about all this when I sat up and said, OK, wait, I've been saving up for a little while now -- how much money do I have, vs. how much money do I need? I started doing some math. And I realized that, effective immediately, if I limit my non-set-bill spending (groceries, gas, beers etc.) to a certain, very low amount, I can probably get by through September with NO paying jobs if I work here through June.
When September rolls around, either I: am making a living and will continue to, am making a living but jobs will drop off, or am not making a living, and if it's either of the 2 latter I will go out and get temp office jobs until things pick up again. Temp jobs are always easy enough to get, and I have enough office experience now that I should make decent money. I've verified with people who've worked temp that this is still the case -- you can pretty much get a job immediately.
How simple and foolproof is that? And of course I'll make SOME money, so I think I can afford a vegetable once in a while (instead of living on pbj's, my plan until things pick up). I will also be able to get a beer or two with industry people for networking purposes from time to time (and so as not to go crazy).
I talked to my mom today and didn't mention that I'm quitting, smirkedy smirk. I don't know if I'll ever tell her. I rarely talk about my doorknob job anyway, and I won't lie, but if she doesn't specifically ask, "are you still working at that job?" I don't think I'll bring it up. Maybe if I make it for like a year and haven't asked her for one red cent I'll tell her.
Anyhoo. I've got a lot coming up already (taking time off work -- shhh!) and am feeling pretty confident about the whole thing despite some of my more experienced friends not being too enthusiastic about their own prospects. (Hard to compare me to them, though -- I'm a cheapass PA, not a producer or gaffer/grip/all-around kickass individual with a ton of equipment who knows everything and therefore costs more than lil ol me). Feeling pretty good, yet not dangerously manic about it. Ahhhh.
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