Monday, Monday

Refusal
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Bah dahhh, bah dah dah dah... (video)

It's still cloudy and rainy. There was a patch of sunlight streaming down through the skylight at work for about 10 minutes. Since then, clouds clouds clouds. I'm contemplating buying a sun lamp. I might need to start popping Vitamin D. Are my knees starting to bow? More than they do, that is?

I have no excuses as to why I'm not actively pursuing Acting Things right now. I can't even blame it on the weather. I suppose I could say that I'm taking some time off to try other things and figure out what it is that I really like to do with my time (other than sleeping and eating and reading).

And now, I will continue reliving those few weeks when I held my own illicit listening sessions to my sister's tape of Tragic Kingdom via Last.fm.

Weekend

Beatific
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

As I got out of bed this morning (which wasn't difficult because I got to sleep until 8:00, as opposed to my normal 4:45 or 5:00) and shuffled around, using the bathroom, washing my face, making my coffee, I thought, "It might actually be easier to not have weekends. It might be easier to rise at the same time every day, stumble off to work, sit there for eight hours accomplishing nothing, come home, eat the same meal, go to sleep, wake up, do it all over again. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with the Sunday Blues, knowing that the relaxation and calm and - dare I say it - happiness I feel will soon dissolve into Monday Morning Stress. At least then I could zone out completely, knowing that my situation would never change, that life was nothing but toil, and because there was no alternative, no hope for something better. Wouldn't that be easier to tolerate?"

Of course, that's not the way it is. But I did find myself wondering what the point of the weekend is. Sure, it gives me an opportunity to clean up my room and run all those errands I can't do during the work week. But those aren't exactly fun activities. It's just more Stuff I Have to Do. There's so little time for Stuff I Want to Do, and then the weekend's over and it's back to work. Sundays are almost always overcast with the dread of having to go back to That Place, so, really the "weekend" consists of Saturday, which is, as I said, filled with Stuff I Have to Do. So, what's the point?

Of course, I might feel differently if my work was the Stuff I Want to Do, would probably feel differently. Or maybe there would just be Different Stuff I Want to Do. It's difficult, right now, to believe that the two could merge.

Welp, Monday's coming, whether or not I want it to, so I might as well just get used to it, right?

Thinking About Food

Kimchee and Portuguese Sausage Omelette
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I think my stomach chose to upload this picture today.

I'm hungry. And I'm bored with the food I have to eat. It's all carb-a-licious, but in a really boring way. Bread, brown rice, lentils, ramen, granola. Hard to get excited about eating the same things day in and day out, but it's what my wallet will allow, and it makes for easy meals during the work week.

Oh, but I dream of exciting things like this kimchee and portuguese sausage omelette that I had in Hawaii. I saw it on the menu, thought, "That sounds like it could be terrible. I'll try it!" And you know what? It was awesome, of course. The kimchee was slightly spicy and the tang hit my tongue in just the right spot. The sausage had a spice of its own, but it mellowed out the sourness of the kimchee perfectly. Drooling a little just thinking about it.

However, by the end of the trip I was very tired of eating out. I was tired of staring at menus and trying to choose something to eat. I was tired of not knowing what the line cook was cooking my food in or on or with. I wanted my own preparations. That's a good sign, I suppose. It means that I have some skill in the kitchen, right? Or that I, at least, like the taste of my own cooking. And that's all that matters.

Bird of Paradise

Bird of Paradise
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

What a crazy flower. My first memory that has anything to do with this blossom is the singing flowers in the Tiki Room at Disneyland. The animatronic flowers had clacking beaks, just like the parrots.

I seem to be going into a dry spell. I sat down to write this afternoon and found there wasn't anything I wanted to write about. All I want to do is sleep and eat, and I don't crave anything that's good for me. Nope, it's Oreos and knock-off CheezIts all the way. The weather's been amazing this weekend, and I did get myself out of the house to enjoy it, but most of the time I just sat there watching people pass. So many cute dogs, so many children who've just learned to walk and always, in their zeal at upright forward motion, seem to be on the verge of taking a terrific header onto the pavement. So many delicious smells coming from dying blossoms I couldn't identify. So many bugs falling onto my shoulders and crawling down my shirt and landing in my hair. So much nature blowing into my nose and being forced back out with juicy sneezes.

I had a good time, but I didn't write a thing.

I suppose this counts, though.

Maybe the times when I don't have any desire to write are the best times to do so. I'm not so concerned about results, so I let my fingers wander where they will on the keyboard. I'll have to remember this feeling.

No good blog for Tuesday

Sorry.

I worked a full day at the temp job, then catered until 11:30 pm. I'm ragged. And I'm never cater waitering again on a work night. The small amount of money is not worth the pain of tomorrow's eight hours of Extreme Drowsiness.

Ow. Everything hurts.

Sunset Over Waikiki

Sunset Over Waikiki
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Hawaii is lovely. We're in Kauai until tomorrow evening, and I can't get over how peaceful it is here, how quiet. We checked into the hotel (which is MASSIVE, by the way) on Thursday, and the Memorial Weekend guests hadn't arrived yet, so the only sounds on the grounds were chirping birds, the occasional splash from the hotel pool, and the crash of the waves. POIFECT.

We're headed out to the "Best Beach in America" this morning, after breakfast. I shall have my judgmental eyes on, to see whether or not the place truly measures up. Not that I've been to that many beaches in the U.S., but I'll still wear my judgmental eyes.

One thing about Kauai: if I ever moved here, I'd never go hungry. There is an abundance of chickens running wild. They congregate in the tourist areas (because stupid people feed them), and almost every time we pulled out in the car we had to go slowly to avoid crushing baby chicks. But seriously: if I moved here, I'd never buy meat again. I would learn how to slaughter chickens and I'd grow my own vegetables and I'd have fried chicken, baked chicken, sauteed chicken, steamed chicken, boiled chicken, roast chicken... I'm going all Forrest Gump, so it's time to go.

Who cares?

In these last few weeks, just like always, I've had impulses. The funny part is that I'm following more of them.

I had an audition last Friday (or was it Thursday?). It was a last minute, same-day thing (which is why I can't remember when it was). Whatever day it was, I had no time to stew over it, obsess over it, or chew on it nervously until I'd sucked all the flavor out. I woke up from a nap, rolled out of bed, and staggered down to the audition site. As I sat there, I looked around at the other women auditioning. Most were very young, or trying to look young. I felt old and grumpy. I thought, "What am I doing here? I'm probably not right for this part at all." But unlike most other situations in which my mind would then start spinning down into a pit of self-defeat, I thought, "Oh well. Who cares? I'm going to go in there and do what I want to do, regardless of whether or not it fits the audition criteria." And I did, and I made them laugh. Did they call me back? No. Doesn't matter. I walked out of the audition feeling like I'd done good work, even if it was only two minutes worth. Being an artist isn't always about is rarely about sealing the deal.

The other day, I asked my friend to give me a word or phrase to write about. I was casting about for blogging ideas. She didn't give me anything specific, but I realized that I could take anything she'd said that stuck out to me and turn it into a something. I now have a small list of words and phrases just begging to be used somehow. Will they be a story, a photo, a dance, or a recipe? Who knows? Isn't that the fun?

So, lately, I've been much more interested in following my own artistic whims, rather than letting others dictate who and what I should be as an artist. The best part is that I'm not rich and famous, and therefore have absolutely nothing to lose. I can make "weird" art, and as very few people are looking anyway, I only have to worry about pleasing me. This is a happy and pleasant turn of events. And really, who cares what I'm doing? As I've often heard said, people are much too concerned with who's looking at them to be worried about looking at you.

So, who cares?

Fourth Time's A Charm

Fourth Time's a Charm.jpg
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I'm currently eating ramen out of the pot I cooked it in. I didn't put it into a bowl. My life is too stressful for bowls.

Kidlings, I was so tired on the bus home tonight. I kept falling asleep. All I wanted to do was curl up in my bed.

But, no. I had to come home to another Cascade of Contaminated Water ®. I called the office. "I need someone to come fix this." "I'm calling the guy right now." I hung up. I started to clean it up, but then I thought, "No. No. They need to come up here and see this." I called downstairs again. "Can you come up here right now? I want someone to see this." "Oh, no...I don't really handle repairs. That's Dougie, or Sean." "Well, it's not just a little leak. It's almost a gallon of dirty water each time it happens." "Oh, goodness! I'll send Sean up as soon as he gets back from the store."

And did she? No. I had to call again. "I'll be up in five minutes, ma'am." He did come, and he examined the nastiness, and promised that the repairman (the aforementioned "Dougie") would be arriving some time this evening after he fixed the heat in another building.

It's 6:01. "Dougie" has until 6:30, then I start drafting my notice of withholding $50 of March's rent until this situation is remedied.

I was annoyed. Now, I'm starting to get pissed.


UPDATE: "Dougie" did indeed show up. He guessed that the upstairs guy's bathroom was leaking water somewhere. He trooped upstairs, knocked on the door, and discovered that yes, indeed, something had broken up there and so water was cascading down the wall and into my apartment. Good to know that Mr. Upstairs has showered four times in the last five days.

Keep your fingers crossed that this thing gets fixed tomorrow.

It Pays to Be Prepared

It Pays to Be Prepared
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I can't stop giggling. I mean, really? My living situation has become absurd.

So, yeah: caught the leaky exhaust fan in the act. Well, not really. I came home from the grocery store (gone for 30 minutes!) and found this when I went to take out my contacts.

That's not a small amount of water. And the fact that it's orangey-brown? Ew. Ewewewewewew. Please don't be toilet water.

I should write to Glad or Hefty or whoever made this trash bag and tell them that they saved my bathroom.

And I definitely need to write a Love Poem to duct tape. That stuff has been my best friend over the last year.

"Do you talk, like, like nice, all the time?"

University College Dorm
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

My coworker asked me if I "talk nice all the time." I said, "What do you mean? Not 'black'?" He laughed a little, then said, "No, like, I mean, yeah, you talk nice here at work because you wanna be professional and stuff, but when you're with your friends, do you talk all hard and stuff, like 'Yeah...', you know?" I answered, "Yes, I 'talk nice' all the time. This is just the way I speak."

I'm proud of him for asking, because most (non-black) people (who haven't known me for a while) just think that question, and never ask. It's potentially embarrassing, because non-black people sometimes have a hard time acknowledging racial differences. But yes, I do "talk nice" all the time.

I don't code switch. I know what it is, but I don't do it. I suppose it's because I've never heard my parents speak anything but grammatically correct, clear English, and because I was raised in an environment that was 90% white. I'm also an avid reader, and always have been; I ended up a highly verbal person (much to the detriment of my grades in math after 6th grade). I'm proud of the way I speak, and I'm also a little snobbish about it.

It grates on my ears when I have to continually listen to bad grammar. (Maybe that's why my hair is 50% whiter than when I left: riding the subway can be a harrowing auditory experience.) These days, I have to listen to it all day, and I often bite back screams and nasty comments. Is it so difficult to properly conjugate "to be"? I am, she is, he is, you are, we are, they are. I was, she was, he was, you were, we were, they were. I know English is screwy, but these are very basic rules, and we hear them used correctly every day. So why doesn't it sink in for some people?

I know certain dialects are a source of pride for others, just as I take pride in the way I speak the English language. I'm not always right, especially when conversing with my friends, but in a business setting, please use standard English. Language evolved to help us understand one another better. If you're speaking a different language, I'm going to get frustrated because I can't understand you. If there is an agreed upon standard - and in this case, it's "business english" - then let's use it.

So, yeah. I do "talk nice all the time."

London Bridge

London Bridge
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Visiting London this fall was totally different than the six weeks I spent there in 1999. Maybe it was because we kept to the tourist areas, and maybe it's because I was older, or maybe it's because London has changed, but the trip definitely had a different feel.

I didn't care for London as much this time around. It had lost some of its "Londonness." I felt as if I could be in any (Northern hemisphere) major city in the Western world: London, Paris, New York, Chicago, whatever. Lots of people, congested roads, crowded public transport, dirt, decay, and tourists everywhere.

Are major cities all becoming generic versions of each other? I appreciate being able to see familiar brands when I'm overseas, but the relief of familiarity is discolored by the feeling that I might as well be at home if things aren't so different somewhere else. The only time I felt as though I'd stepped back into the London I remembered was visiting my dorm at University College. We didn't get to go inside, but I stood out front while my Mom took a photo. That area - Bloomsbury - felt real. High Holborn Street, the Tower, even wandering around the City and financial district: they didn't feel real.

I'm not saying I wouldn't go back. I just want to spend more time somewhere outside the main city, away from the bustle and sameness.

In other news, I made $16,032.38 in 2008. In New York. Ha!

At least I get to watch the sun rise

Athens
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Got up at 4 today because I had to wash my hair. Went to sleep at 10:30 or so. I'm not sleepy today, but I might be tomorrow.

This job is great, aside from the fact that the rest of the world is usually up much later than 8:30, which is when I would, ideally, like to go to bed, so I'll probably be sleep-deprived as long as I do more than go to work and come home.

Gotta go catch a bus. They moved the department I'm working in to Brooklyn. Kinda good for me, because it knocks about 10 minutes off my commute, but it's not exactly simple to get to, so I still have to leave about 50 minutes before I need to be there.

UGH. I'm talking about WORK and APARTMENTS and GOING TO BED AT 8:30. When did I get so old?

Jumping on the Prime Meridian

Jumping on the Prime Meridian
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I love how long and loose my legs are in this picture. I always loved big jumps in ballet; it was a time when I could finally relax. I should have been relaxed all along, but it was much easier to do so when flying through the air.

I miss dance.

I'm dreaming up my ideal apartment. I can't decide if it's in the city or not. I'm kind of thinking Connecticut, actually. (I just accidentally typed "Connecticult." Hm. Freudian slip?) One of the teachers at the yoga studio lives there, and his commute via local train is only 10 minutes longer than mine. I could have trees and grass and actual nature and space around me. I'd feel human again.

Then again, I could move back up to Inwood. Apartments are still less expensive there than other parts of the city, and there are two three large parks in the area, so I could escape to the woods if I started feeling unmoored from nature.

Wherever it is, my ideal apartment has all my "must-haves":

1) Top floor. Period. I hate listening to people walk above me.
2) One room with sunlight. Can't live in a cave.
3) A real kitchen. I miss cooking so much it hurts. I dream up meals I could prepare, and then I remember that my oven doesn't work and that I have negative counter space.
4) Thick walls. I'm only viewing apartments in the evening when other people will be home. I need to know how much sound gets through and what's tolerable.
5) Vermin-free, with a landlord who sprays every month without being asked.

Other than those, I'm flexible. I don't mind studios, but it would be nice to have a separate room for my bed, even if my bed is the only thing that fits in it. And it would be nice to have greenery nearby. I've been craving green so much I made it my desktop and phone wallpaper. And I'd like someplace where I could have a dog...

Yeah, I want a home. Not just an apartment or a campsite. I want a home.

Anyone know of any good homes?


ETA: Remember this bracelet? The TSA stole it. I was looking through the Europe photos and I thought, "Hey, I haven't seen that bracelet in a while." I looked through my jewelry and realized that it was gone. I checked all my bags: nothing. I'm pretty sure it was stolen on a "routine luggage check" (i.e. Smash'n'Grab) on my way back from Rome. We were on so many flights, it's impossible to know when it disappeared. I really loved that bracelet, and it was irreplaceable. I've learned my lesson.

My father brought some clothes from the Nike store, and my mother's outfit vanished somewhere between the Las Vegas airport and MSP. Now I wonder who could have taken it? /sarcasm

Kids, don't put anything you really love in your checked baggage. Even if you bury it, they might dig it out and pocket it. (I took the tags off of some new clothes on the way back to NY because I didn't want anyone deciding to take them home.)

I'm ranting. You are forewarned.

Daddy's Home, and a Bit Lost
My Laid-Off Life

Two articles about the newly unemployed.

I had a hard time getting started writing this entry. It wasn't because I didn't have anything to say. In fact, I have too much to say, and it's not kind, so getting up to walk off a little fury and organize my thoughts into something coherent was a good idea. I'm not sure if I accomplished coherence, but whatever.

The people in these articles have been laid off. Overwhelmingly, it seems that that fact hasn't really sunk in. Getting laid off or having your freelance work dry up really sucks. But my sympathy evaporates when you don't adjust your spending to compensate for the lack of income.

For example:

How to spend is a continuing negotiation — one that sometimes devolves into heated discussions, outright arguments and bouts of sulking. Tracey is trying, often unsuccessfully, to spend less on clothing for herself and the children. “Don’t make me look like a jerk,” she told a reporter, “but I cannot bring myself to buy my children’s clothes at Wal-Mart.” "But do you have to buy them at Ralph Lauren?” Scott shot back. - From the NY Times article.

What's wrong with this picture? Granted, these people have no debt. They've paid off their mortgage and put away savings from "the good times." But they're using their retirement savings to pay for clothes from Ralph Lauren, and soccer, skating, T-ball and karate lessons. Scott, the father, still goes to the gym. They refuse to give up their country club membership. When does the stupidity end?

NY Mag's little gems:

I’m too lazy to go to the gym, so I’ll take my Les Paul out of its case and stand in front of the mirror playing a John Mayer song. I’ve spent the past two weeks drinking and listening to music. And I spent my severance at a bar. (emphasis mine) I need to get good at that guitar so I can play at bars. - Ross Tillman, recruiter

I went shopping today. I needed the perfect skirt because I didn’t have the perfect skirt. Plus I’ve got this new guy, and we go out to nice places. He deserves a me in cuter outfits. But I also got $900 worth of clothes that I didn’t need. I used my credit card (emphasis mine)—I don’t usually do that. But I’m done stressing. No auditions? No work coming in? As Miss Scarlett would say, “I’ll worry about that tomorrow.” - Cadden Jones, actress

We’ve become more aware of what we spend. We looked at our cable bill to see if we could cut something, but you can get one channel for $30 and you get the whole package for $40, so it didn’t make sense to cut there. - Igor Gavrilov, Salesperson (Um, how about NOT HAVING CABLE?)

Let's make a comparison. As I know me rather well, I'll use my life. My income has dried up. My savings are dwindling. So I don't buy anything I don't need.

1) Groceries: instead of chicken breasts, I buy tuna in a can. I buy a big package of brown rice with a 60 cents off coupon, and several packages of 25 cent ramen noodles, and I alternate eating those for every meal. I buy a package of eggs and use them sparingly. At that rate, I can usually get out of the grocery store for under $10. Sometimes I buy canned green beans to go in the ramen.

2) Clothing: I don't buy clothes unless I'm desperate (holes in things and whatnot, and sometimes not even then: over Christmas, my mother had to drag me to the store to buy jeans).

3) Toiletries: I've given up cotton swabs. I use hotel soaps and lotions accumulated from the last three years. If something runs out and I don't absolutely need it, I don't replace it. I've been wearing my glasses more because I'm down to my last pair of contacts.

4) Entertainment: I watch movies and TV shows on the internet. I get books from the library instead of buying them. I've been to a movie theatre three times in the last year, and I paid a $1.50 for one of those movies.

I've made adjustments. The people profiled in these articles are either living off of severance, or they're complete idiots ($900? on credit? really? really??). I understand not wanting to give up too much of the lifestyle you've become accustomed to. One of my indulgences was expensive coffee; not from Starbucks, but a package of $8, $9, or $10 coffee from Wholefoods. When my last package ran out, I sucked it up that I couldn't justify spending that money. I bought the Foodtown brand for $3.50. And you know what? Tastes the same. Mom from the NY Times article? You don't have to go to Wal-Mart. Target clothes are inexpensive and fairly good. Better yet, hit the thrift stores! You can get department store cast-offs for $4 or less! Besides: THEY'RE CHILDREN. They're going to grow out of them in less than a year anyway, and they don't care what they're wearing.

I'm not listing my financial business so you'll pity me. I don't want pity. (I want a job!) The people profiled here are still doing all right. It would be interesting (and, sadly, bold) for some of these newspapers and magazines to profile people who are truly living on the edge, i.e. "I was ok living paycheck to paycheck and now I don't know where rent, due in three weeks, is going to come from. Even if I got a $10/hour job and worked full-time, I still wouldn't make it."

Reality check, folks: your material trappings are not you. Do you have a place to live and aren't in danger of losing it? Are your meals balanced, if inexpensive? Do you wake up every day with a sense of purpose, wherever it comes from? Then you're fine. Stop being stupid.

Leak Fixed (I Think)

I wrote a triumphant email to my family at midnight, exclaiming, "I found the leak and covered it up!" It felt good to check one of the "storm feeder" items off the list. I pumped the bed all the way up and climbed in.

This morning, the bed had shrunk a little. Poop. My suspicion is that the duct tape had worked its way into lifting off the mattress a little, and when it did, the air saw its chance to escape, and of course, once that happened, the tape really loosened up because the surface area was shrinking.

So.

I put more tape on it.

I filled the mattress again and listened and felt for more leaks. Didn't hear or feel anything. So I think it is just that one spot. Hopefully the layering of duct tape will keep things normal for a little while.

Any ideas of a sticky sealant I can use that'll hold on a flexible surface? Hmm...maybe moleskin tape.

Oh, and the majority of the "storm feeders" have dissipated. We have heat again; too much, praise God. They changed the lock on the security door completely. And the bed is mostly fixed. The only one left is the job thing, and I think that might possibly be solved this week. Here's hoping!

Funky

I don't make resolutions. Maybe, this year, I should have.

There's been a storm cloud hovering over my head and gaining strength for the last few weeks. It began as a grey-tinted mist when I was home in Minnesota and started at the thought of coming back to New York. Now that I'm back, it's no longer a puffy little cartoon cloud. It's a full-on thunderhead, and it's threatening to soak me, or electrocute me, or worse: develop into a wall cloud and blow me off to Oz (but according to which story you read, that could be good or bad).

I try to maintain positivity on this blog, if nowhere else, but I'm having a hard time being in New York right now, and I'm getting more and more negative. A lot of folks I know would say that my choices brought me here. They're right, but that doesn't make it easier to bear.

There are a few things that have been eating away at me more than anything.

1) I'm still jobless. I'll say it again: if anyone knows anything, please send it my way.

2) My apartment building is getting more disappointing by the day. We had no heat yesterday and last night because - my guess- someone forgot to buy heating oil, so the reservoir or whatever went dry and burned, ending in a fire department visit at 5 am yesterday morning (not to mention that the fire department knocked half of my jewelry off the desk and laid their rusty axe on my white comforter when they opened my windows).

3) Speaking of my bed, I've been using an air mattress for the last year because I can't afford a real bed. When I got back from vacation, it started leaking. So every five hours or so I end up re-inflating it so I don't end up on the floor by morning. This is not, according to my definition, restful sleep.

4) The security door lock is broken, again. I asked them to fix it on Tuesday, and someone just now was working on it this afternoon. Goodness knows if he actually finished the job.

These little mental hangers-on are feeding the storm cloud, seeding it. It takes everything I have not to scream "Everything sucks!" any time someone asks me how I am. The only reason I don't is because some part of me remembers that not everything sucks. I have a place to live, even if it's not ideal. I have food to eat, even if it's ramen noodles and brown rice, every day. I have a loving and supportive family.

But...

But.

I'm tired of struggling all the time. I know some struggle is good, but it feels like, right now, it's all the time. I'm getting weary, but I can't rest.

2009

(Written Thursday, posted Friday and back-dated. I'm a dirty cheat who was also too preoccupied (read: lazy) to post this while she had internet access.)

Felix sit annus novus!

I'm at the yoga studio, and within minutes of arriving, I managed to short out a power strip, which lead to flipping breaker circuits to turn things back on, which lead to realizing that it was the power strip, which lead to testing each electrical thingamajig to make sure it still worked, which lead to realizing that they all did still work, which lead to realizing that the internet no longer works, which lead to a panic-masked-with-jokes call to the studio manager, which lead to ingenuity in the form of using my laptop for front desk functions and jacking into an unlocked wireless signal, which lead to not doing anything but waiting for the studio manager to arrive and save the day, somehow.

Yikes.

Home

Happy day after Christmas!

I've missed my parents' house. I love the flash of bright red of a scarlet cardinal against the backdrop of dark green conifers and white snow. I love the big squishy chairs and couches that invite curling up. I love the familiarity of family, of being able to do nothing together and being okay with that. I love the absence of dread that a verminous insect is going to pop out somewhere unexpected or crawl on me while I'm sleeping. (I'm sure there are spiders here, in fact I know there are, but spiders don't bother me in the least.) This house is awesome.

I'm so thankful that my parents have worked so hard to create their home. It sets a high standard, but also an excellent example to follow. This is the kind of home I want to create for myself, one where visitors enter and don't want to leave because they feel completely at home.

Working

I was halfway through an awesome blog yesterday. I was writing it on my phone. My phone rang. I lost the entry. I decided not to post one.

I'm writing late today because it's Friday and I have to get up at 4:45 on Friday mornings to go do work study (if I haven't mentioned that before). So, just know that Friday entries may be late or non-existent. Mmmkay?

I am voraciously looking for employment. I ask everyone I know if they know of anything, and I've been at the Actor's Work Program offices almost every day this week. I know that good things will come of all this energy I'm expending, but it's sometimes difficult to remember that when my bank account is hemorrhaging all over the place and I don't have a needle or thread to sew up the wound, or even any of those cloth wads the nurse uses to soak up the extra...

Um.

Yeah.

That metaphor is out of control.

Anyway. I'm looking, but having to be patient, and possibly take less than the ideal. I don't mind making less money as long as I don't hate my life while I'm there. That's not too much to ask, is it?

So if you're reading this and you have an awesome job for me? Drop me a line and I'll send you my fabulous, new, totally renovated resume!

Oops

Oops
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I rearranged last night. I moved my desk so that it faces the window. The motivation was less "I need something new" and more "I want the heat to actually radiate into the room and not just the side of my desk."

It's chilly outside. 30 degrees. I'm really boring today, kidlings. I think my novel has stolen all my words and ideas.

Actually, no. What happened is that I haven't been filling the well. Julia Cameron encourages artists to keep replenishing their "well of creativity." We can't keep running on empty, churning out work without suffering the consequences, i.e. burnout, writer's block, addictive behaviors.

The workshop was a source of creative energy for me, and now that it's over, I have to go elsewhere for creative juice. I haven't been doing that. I've been freaking out about my financial situation. I'm going to stop doing that now.

For today's refill, I think I'll walk in Central Park. (Yes, it's cold, but I'm from Minnesota and I'm not scurred.) I would love to watch a dance class, but you can't get into the dancing area of Broadway Dance Center without paying for a class. Maybe I could go to Port Authority bus station, go up to one of the upper levels and watch class at Alvin Ailey. Eh. Too much work. I would also like to bake something, but my oven is still not functioning. Poop.

What are you doing to fill your creative well?

List

It's a beautiful day outside. The downside is that it's below 40 degrees and will stay there for the rest of the day.

I was really productive yesterday. Today, I don't know where to begin.

I'm only three days behind on my novel. Which equals 5001 words. Which is doable; if I felt like doing anything other than descending into a vegetative state and munching popcorn.

I'm the old lady of my building: I actually poked my ceiling with a broom handle to remind my upstairs neighbor that he either needs to walk more softly or buy a rug.

Despite the lack of sound-proofing and the occasional antenna-wearing invaders and the smell of other people's food, this isn't a bad apartment. I'm thankful that I'm indoors now that it's cold, and that the heat isn't my financial responsibility.

Which leads me to the flip side, yet again: how will I afford to keep living here if jobs that pay a living wage are so elusive? It's exhausting to look at page after page of job ads that pay $10, $11, or $12 an hour, or even less than $10.

News flash! The economy sucks.

I pat myself on the back for being diligent about checking in weekly with my temp and permanent placement agencies.

I sigh when they write back "Thanks!" instead of "Here's a job!"

Anyone want to hire a brilliant, creative, problem-solving, computer savvy writer and admin genius?

My bamboo looks unhappy.

I just had an idea that could be lucrative, if I could get my idea to the people who need it. Hm... I need a marketing genius.

I really want a pet. I look at icanhascheezburger.com and every other picture I say, "Awww!" I pass Pocket Pooches NYC and I always stop and stare at the teeny tiny balls of fluffy puppy goodness and my heart breaks that I can't have one. Yes, yes: animals are expensive and messy and aggravating. The same can be said for children, and people keep having those anyway. The moment I reach financial solvency, I'm getting a pet.

Some bubbly, perhaps?

Some bubbly, perhaps?
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

That glass of champagne is also being raised to my fellow "The Less We Talk" workshoppers. Thank you for an extremely fun and educational process. I wouldn't have learned as much if you all weren't as fearless and supportive as you were! See you soon!

***************

I was thinking about networking a few days ago. I'm looking for another job and I tell EVERYONE, knowing that I can get information and leads from friends and acquaintances. It doesn't matter whether or not they directly have something for me. They may know someone who knows someone who knows someone, and that's better than nothing.

I really appreciate that sense of sharing information and helping everyone at the same time: you have a job, I'm looking for one. If I fit, you fill your job, and you think highly of the friends that helped you find the right candidate. Win-win!

What I don't appreciate is when people are hesitant about sharing information with me because they don't think I can help them. I remember one instance, riding home from a dinner party organized by a Minnesota friend, two other attendees were exchanging business cards. I already had the business card of one of them, and I asked the other if I could have one as well. He hesitated, obviously reluctant to give me one. I almost wanted to say, "Wow. Were they expensive? You don't have to waste one on me if you don't want to," but I held my tongue and smiled.

I learned something in that moment. I learned that, personally, I'm happy to give people my contact information. I never know what projects you'll be up to in the future, and you never know what I'll be up to in the future. I may need your skill set exactly, and in five years time you may get a call out of the blue from me saying, "Hey, you're the only one I know who can do this. Can you?" Every interaction is a chance for both parties to advance, to live the principle of "win-win" rather than "win-lose."

So, "win-win," people! Help each other. It really doesn't cost you anything unless you let it.

Metro

Metro
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I have orange pulp between two of my molars. Ugh. Time for floss.

For not having done that particular monologue in months, my audition went well. I didn't walk out feeling like I "should have done X!" and the director said "That was very nice." I'll take it.

I tried something new in that audition. Normally, I only have about five seconds of silence before I start talking, if even that. But because of the work we've been doing in this workshop, I decided to "see and be seen" before I moved into the meat of the monologue. It's a clown term that basically means let the audience see you and you connect with them before you start doing anything. Obviously I don't want to make eye contact with the auditor (too confrontational), but I can enter the space that I've created, let him look at me and take me in, and then start the monologue. So there was a good 30 seconds of silence at the top of my audition piece. And it felt good. So using that again.

Coliseum in the Sun

Coliseum in the Sun
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Hey! I'm back.

Sorry. I've been sniffling, sneezing, moaning and moping about the house for the last few days; when I wasn't shooting a music video or workshopping or catering, that is.

SO. I watched the episode of Life On Mars for which I was an extra. I am there, I am visible. It was cool to know that thousands of people had watched that episode. Granted, no one was looking at me in the background, but it was still cool.

I have a confession to make, though. There was an additional scene that involved all the BLA members sans me. That was, um, hard to watch. It was cool to see all the people I'd hung out with for two days, but I couldn't help wondering I had done something wrong in that I wasn't invited back for another day of work. Had I not behaved myself? Did I totally suck? Was I pulling focus? What did I do?

And in the end, I'll never know. There's no reason for me to beat myself up over it. No actor mind taffy!

Speaking of acting, things may, um, be changing for me. I may or may not have a full-time job come, oh, tomorrow. Which means that acting would be relegated to evenings and weekends. That's how I started in Minnesota. Not a bad way to start over here. But, once again, nothing is set in stone. I'll keep ya posted.

UPDATE: Yeah, no full-time job. I had it, and then I let it go. I kind of convulse into a laughing fit whenever I think about it. Mostly because turning it down makes no sense. But then again, chasing a dream never makes sense looking forward. Looking backward, though:

As we look back and survey the terrain to determine where we've been and where we are in relationship to where we're going, we clearly see that we could not have gotten where we are without coming the way we came. There aren't any other roads; there aren't any shortcuts. There's no way to parachute into this terrain.

-The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

Il Coliseo

Il Coliseo
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I liked visiting the Coliseum. I was in a bit of a funk when we got there (for whatever reason; something trivial, I'm sure), but it was awesome to tromp around in there walking in the footsteps of ancient people. Always supa cool.

I woke up with a sore throat this morning. It was with me yesterday, but I thought it was because I hadn't had enough water. Nope. It's the scratchy kind that announces that unwelcome visitor: the virus. So I stayed in bed as long as I could. (I got released from the catering gig last night at 12:30 am, didn't get home until 2:15 am due to track work and wonky trains and waiting waiting waiting.)

I fear that my novel may suffer if I start suffering from a cold, so I will employ a strategy that seems to work well: sleep as much as possible right away to keep the ick from dragging out for days.

News flash: W00t! I just scheduled an audition for next week for a company I auditioned for in the spring. Yay! I love when that happens.

The Forum

The Forum
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

The civic center of ancient Rome over there.

Now go do your American civic duty (and hard-won privilege, let's not forget the people who have given and are still giving their lives for our right to make our voices heard) and GO VOTE. Don't forget, don't let the time get past you, don't let yourself get busy with other things.

VOTE.


UPDATE: I voted. It was good.

21 Questions

NYMag.com has a regular feature on their Daily Intel blog called "21 Questions." They ask various people the same set of questions, but most of the people they ask are, shall we say, not of the underclass. (Every now and then they interview someone who more recently was "normal". Whenever I read it I think, "Hey, NYMag.com. How about you ask me those 21 questions and see what someone who's not a member of the glitterati has to say?" They'll never ask, but I have a blog of my own, and can therefore take their 21 questions and ask them of myself. So here we go.

Name: Adia
Job: Actor/Cater Waiter/Wannabe novelist and photographer
Age: 195
Neighborhood: BK

Who's your favorite New Yorker, living or dead, real or fictional? Kermit.

What's the best meal you've eaten in New York? "Free" tastes better than anything else.

In one sentence, what do you actually do all day in your job? Wait for the phone to ring or an email to pop up that says, "Here's some work."

Would you still live here on a $35,000 salary? Wow. $35,000 sounds like incredible wealth to me.

What's the last thing you saw on Broadway? Hairspray. My sister was in town.

Do you give money to panhandlers? See question 4.

What's your drink? Coffee. Always coffee.

How often do you prepare your own meals? Every day. Eating out is RARE.

What's your favorite medication? Aleve. Two of 'em, even though the box says one.

What's hanging above your sofa? I have a collage and a piece of newsprint paper with sayings from my "7 Habits of Highly Effective People" daily calendar hanging above my desk. There's no room for a sofa in here.

How much is too much to spend on a haircut? I have a pair of scissors specifically crafted for cutting hair.

When's bedtime? Whenever I fall asleep with the lights on and an unwashed face.

Which do you prefer, the old Times Square or the new Times Square? I wish Times Square would fall into a wormhole and appear elsewhere as some other dimension's urban headache.

What do you think of Donald Trump? When I meet him and he's signing a million dollar check over to me, I'll let you know.

What do you hate most about living in New York? The list is long. I hate: how expensive it is to live here, how people who make significantly more money than I do gripe about not having any money when I'd kill for their "poverty line" $40,000/year, roaches, ignorant fools who drop garbage everywhere when they're two feet from a trash can, how self-centered everyone is, the lack of indoor spaces that are open past 5pm that don't pressure you to spend money, and how easy it is to let weeks go by without seeing your friends.

Who is your mortal enemy? Gainful employment, apparently.

When's the last time you drove a car? July. I went to a wedding in California. I got a Mustang as a rental car. That was fun.

Who should be the next president? Senator Barack Obama.

Times, Post, or Daily News? I read the NY Times when I can stand to read the news.

Where do you go to be alone? No one's ever alone. There's always some kind of critter nearby.

What makes someone a New Yorker? Tunnel vision.

Still No Internet

Oh, kidlings. I fear that my "free" internet is gone! I hope that this glitch is temporary, but downtime has never lasted two days before. It's usually just a few hours, and then everything is back to normal. Having to wait until I get to the yoga studio or typing on my phone is terribly inconvenient, and I can't post photos. Boooooooo. This stinks.

*********

Currently reading a book called There's No Place Like Here. It's the author's fifth novel. Another of her novels, P.S., I Love You, was made into a feature film. She's the co-creator of "Samantha Who" on ABC. She's 27. *sigh* Happy for her, but *sigh*.

*********

Today I'll be photographed for The (Red) Campaign. I feel honored to be a part of such a great concept. It's a win-win idea, and according to The 7 Habits..., win-win is the way to live. Hopefully I'll be able to get a copy so you all can see!

Not Lava

Not Lava
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

The wall of the excavation thus far, which our tour guide kept attributing to a flow of "cold lava." Any thinking person knows that this is IMPOSSIBLE, as lava, when it's cold, is rock.

What happened at Herculaneum was a mudslide.

***************

Whew. Not a whole lot goin' on over here.

Doo dee do dee doooo...

Anybody know any jokes?

A roach (a BIG one) was crawling on my desk this morning. Jerk. THERE'S NO FOOD THERE. LEAVE ME ALONE.

It's time to stop talking about silicone caulk and act. I will purchase some tonight and attack the cracks tomorrow.

I'm at the yoga studio at the moment. There's chill music, no one else is here, and the internet is not blocked. Suh-weet. I'm attempting to enjoy this time and not think too much about roaches I can't see or control. (It's not working so well.)

I feel icky. It's rainy and cold. I have to find another job.

Stupid roaches.
Stupid rain.
Stupid economy.

I Know You're Totally Jealous

I Know You're Totally Jealous
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Wow. Teenage girls love them some Jonas Brothers.

Worked a private concert yesterday for the clients of Netjet and MarquisJet. Hundreds of screaming little girls in attendance.

There was a projection screen above the stage that said, "Text the Jonas Brothers at 612-***-****!" (612?) The sent messages would then scroll at the bottom of the screen. One message said, "I'm saving myself for you! Meet me backstage!" Whoa.

Parthenon

Parthenon - Aisha
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I let myself sleep in today.

I start rehearsals for The Less We Talk, a group-singing piece, next Tuesday. Hooray! I'm also doing work study at a yoga studio at 6:45 am on Friday mornings. Ew.

I've missed doing work study. I worked at Zenon every Saturday morning for three years, off and on. I enjoyed the early morning shift because it was peaceful, and the regularity in my schedule kept me anchored when other calendar items and to do's were driving me nuts. I think this work study, as early in the morning as it is, will be really good for me, not to mention the fact that I get free, unlimited yoga classes! My body will get a chance to build strength and recover from injury, and that is a beautiful thing.

Yup, I was there

Yup, I was there
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I was SO DIRTY by this point in the day. It was our last stop and sand had been blowing on us all day. When I went to wash my shirt, I noticed that it had a yellow tinge to it.

GAH. 10:00. I have to go. Sorry, guys. Got home from catering (for the Prince of Luxembourg!) at 2:15 am. Training for work study at a yoga studio in an hour.

*sigh*

This is how it will be for the next few weeks. Gross.

Ugh

I want to go back to bed.

Giza

Giza
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I didn't notice until we took this picture that all of us were wearing white shirts.

Our exchange student from 1995 and 1996(?), Maria, and her mother are here in New York for a few days. So little time! That means a lot of running around trying to see the major sights. I took them to Grand Central last night - where we ended up eating dinner - and they really enjoyed the architecture of the train station. It felt good to show them something they really enjoyed, because they would ask, at points on our walk, "What is that?" and I'd say, "Um...I don't know." I'm a bad guide when it comes to the tourist stuff.

This evening we're going up to the top of Rockefeller Center to look out on the city. That should be fun, as I haven't been up to an observation deck since the Empire State Building on a high school choir trip.

(May I admit, though, that I'm a little pooped from all that walking and trying to speak Spanish?)

Step Pyramid at Sakkara (Saqqara)

Step Pyramid at Sakkara (Saqqara)
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Sakkara.

I'm all a-twitter. Bonnie Gillespie commented on my blog. I feel like I've been visited by Yoda. Not meaning that she's green and tiny and talks backwards, but that I'm the padawan and she's the Jedi Master.

Catered at Ellis Island last night. Hoo boy. Not fun. Not fun at all. I think the people who've worked that location before have had unpleasant experiences, and they bring those memories with them, and so everyone's expecting a bad night and that's what they get. Not to mention that some personalities (not naming names to protect myself) are high-stress anyway, and they set everyone off on the wrong foot, i.e. the cranky, yelling foot; even people who I've never seen yell. It was the most unpleasant job I've worked thus far.

Not to end on that note, here's my Cub commercial, up on the interwebs!

Rhodes

Rhodes
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Oh, the blank page.

The empty text box that pops up on Flickr for the "Blog This" function is intimidating today. I find that I'm not burning to say anything or expound on a photo or rant. That's a scary time, when there's nothing in the well. (Well, there's something in there, but it's frustration, and a feeling of being blocked at every turn, but that's not much fun to read, so I refrain.)

The blank page taunts me. It speaks in the voices of the doubters and cynics. It says, "Who do you think you are? What makes what you have to say so important?" I don't have an answer to that question. I don't. I only know that I'm compelled to keep doing this, keep putting one word after another, even if it's not anything anyone else wants to read or hear. I wish I had an explanation for the compulsion, because it would make me feel a whole lot better (*controlfreak*), but I don't. I write because I must. And when I don't write, something goes wrong inside that is equally impossible to explain.

The fear of the blank page is why I do NaNoWriMo. At least once every year I abandon the idea that I can only write when the muse strikes me. I hogtie the taunting voices. I toss aside the notion that every word has to be profound and just tell a story. It's a lurching, sometimes grotesque thing, the story that emerges, but NaNoWriMo doesn't care about pretty. Pretty and Perfect is boring. Grotesque gives me something to work with.

I'm feeling naked now. I think that's ok.

Silk

Silk
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

My day was not like silk at all.

I woke up this morning and thought, "Wow, I'm well-rested for having gone to sleep at 1am. Oh dear. i wonder if my alarm didn't go off." I crawled out of bed, thinking it was 8 am, not 7, the target time. I looked at my phone. "9:39."

Oh crap.

I was supposed to be at Lincoln Center at 10. I live in Brooklyn. It can be an hour-long trip from my house to Lincoln Center.

I called the catering office. No one answered. I desperately wanted to shower, but there was no time. I was already going to be at least a half hour late.

I washed my face, swabbed at my pits, threw on my catering clothes and ran out the door. It was a beautiful, globally-warmed mid-October day, but I barely noticed. All I could think was, "Late. Late. Late. Never been late. Hate being late to work. Late. Late. Late."

I arrived at about 10:40. Ugh. And since I didn't get to do my morning ritual (make coffee, write three pages, drink coffee, read blogs and news, shower, get dressed, eat something, leave) I felt discombobulated all morning.

The good news is that I got my checks for "Life On Mars" today. Bad news: TAXES. Ick. I hate New York taxes. You Minnesotans think you get taxed a lot. You're wrong. At least it's a set amount, not 20%, or 22%, or 25%. (One week at my last job, I made more than normal, about $460. They took 24% out of my check. I mean, really? Obviously I'm not super wealthy if I'm only making $460 a week, and that was more than normal. MUST you take a quarter of it? And for what? Rat and cockroach upkeep? Come on.)

I got released earlier than expected (*sad face*) so I have time to come home, take a shower, and make myself presentable for my work study interview. (I'm hoping to take yoga and get my body back into dancing shape.)

Ciao, kidlings.

Finished Silk Skeins

Finished Silk Skeins
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I've been working most days the last few weeks, so to not be working feels strange, and I'm antsy. I have things I could do around the house, but I don't want to do them. I want to work.

I wish I had some paint.

Silkworm Cocoons

Silkworm Cocoons
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Catering a lot. That's good!
It makes me lazy in my off time. That's bad.
Doing more background (extra) work today. That's good!
No work tomorrow. That's bad.
Anxious to get my demo reel cut together. That's good!
Can't get the video ripping software to work. That's bad.
Generally a whole lot more cheerful these days. That's good!
The weather's supposed to be in the upper 70s today. That's...not so bad, actually.

NaNoWriMo starts in, like, three weeks. I have no idea what I'm writing about, but I'm DOING IT. I keep trying to coerce people to do it with me. "Come on, don't you want to go nuts for a month? No, there are no official prizes. Isn't self-satisfaction after abject suffering enough for you?"

Heh.

Wishes

Wishes
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

So...I took a day off yesterday. Didn't mean to, just didn't feel like doing anything other than reading in bed. And eating. Lots of eating.

Currently reading Horse Heaven by Jane Smiley. I read another novel of hers, Moo, on the cruise. The ships have libraries, and I took full advantage of that this time around. Read some good ones and some real stinkers. Moo was not a stinker. I was giggling out loud two pages in. Horse Heaven is even better.

Jane Smiley's writing is like no one else's I've ever read. It's almost conversational, but her wit and poetical turns-of-phrase elevate it above ordinary. She also seems to have mined my thoughts for her characters. She knows how to write women. It's sad that that's a surprise, but all too many authors write women who don't exist, at least not in my world. Jane Smiley knows women, and she writes her female characters with all the complexities and contradictions real women possess.

I am a fan for life. That's high praise, coming from me: I'm always hesitant to name names when someone asks me "who's your favorite author?" or "what's your favorite book?" Jane Smiley has made the list.

Skinny Mama Kitty

Skinny Mama Kitty
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I do get a day off!

But Day Off has become Laundry Day. I don't like Laundry Day. But I'm running out of clean clothes, so Laundry Day must commence.

I'm feeling the desire to withdraw again. I've come to realize that any time I'm faced with a tough decision, all I want to do is curl up in bed with a book and a package of cookies.

I've been wanting to do a lot of curled-up cookie-eating these days.

Mykonos

Mykonos
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Goodness. What a weekend.

So, to recap:

- 12-hour catering shift in Westchester, broken down bus, home at 4:30am
- keys lost, locked out until Monday afternoon, wandered around Manhattan from 4:30 until 9:00 am on Sunday, called a locksmith, couldn't cough up $240, checked into a hotel
- 5 am call for catering on Monday morning
- interview this morning with a really great company, torn about what to do next if offered the job

Catering again tonight. Fortunately for me, it's in Brooklyn, about three stops away on the subway.

I have some decisions to make, and many tasks to do, but all I want to do is sleep. The chaos of the weekend really messed up my routine, and I feel like I need a day to get back on track. I'm not going to get one, though.

When shooting exteriors until 4:00 in the morning in the fall...

...wear layers.

Oh, kidlings, I was so cold on Thursday night/Friday morning. I wanted to cut open one of my fellow extra's bellies and crawl inside for warmth. (**Wow. Reading this for editing, this is a little brutal. Heh. Seriously, though! It was cold.**) I wanted to bum rush the stars and steal their parkas. I wanted lava to spew out of the East River and blanket the Long Island coast. So, so cold.

So, yeah, we shot until 4:00 am. I got home at 5:30. Went to sleep at 6. Woke up at 9 to wait for the maintenance man that never came. Called and rescheduled my 3:00 interview because I knew I would be half-dead, and didn't want to give the impression that I was always half dead. Went back to sleep.

I don't think they're going to need us next week. I thought there were interior shots, but I don't think so. I think the 8th and 9th were on hold in case the weather was inclement. So, oh well. But two long days is still great, money-wise. I'll be able to pay my rent!

It was a good day, though. Tempers got short, people yelled, but I still would rather be there, on set, than anywhere else. I met a bunch of cool, professional actors, made some money, and got my foot in the door in the on camera world in New York. I have momentum. So, even when it's bad, it's good.

Moar, plz. Kthnxbai.

Published!

DSC_2423_2.JPG
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

This photo was included in the fifth edition of the Schmap Boston Guide. If you go to the link, you'll see that it's part of a rotating set of photos for the Old North Church section.

Ima published fo-to-graf-er! Yee haw!

------------------------------------

I'm a little down today. Money's tighter than it has been in a long time, and that fact caught me by surprise. Temp jobs are non-existent, and catering just isn't as busy as I'd hoped or wanted it to be. I'm not getting any responses to resume submissions. I don't look as good on paper as I do in person (heh), so it's hard to get people to believe that I'm as great as I say I am when they don't see the evidence in cold facts and figures.

It's difficult to get non-artists to understand that I've practiced, daily for the past five years, all the skills I need to be successful at any job. I'm adaptable: an artist/actor/stage manager needs to be able to change gears quickly to fit the needs of the current situation. I'm a fast learner: a week-long rehearsal process forces one to absorb new information quickly and succinctly; in order to create marketing materials like web pages, postcards and representation solicitation packets, and business organization tools like payment tracking spreadsheets, I had to delve into learning new design and organizational software. I'm patient and goal-oriented: days and weeks of no work, or non-job-related work, has taught me to keep my eyes on the goal, no matter what the current circumstances say. I'm detail-oriented: there are a million facets to being an independent contractor, and I must keep every single ball in the air - and make it look easy in the process - to be successful.

I can do almost anything. I know this. How do I get a stranger to recognize my talent?

"Stand over there and look scared."

"Stand over there and look scared."
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Last night.

- catering gig: Clinton's Global Initiative

- sighted: Big Willy himself. Came through the hallway where the caterers were working, took a minute to come say 'hi' and shake the hands of some of the staff. Skinnier than I remember him.

- sighted: Rev. Jesse Jackson. Rolled up to the bar as I was clearing glassware and plates. More handsome in person than on tv.

- not sighted: Mohammed Ali and Madeleine Albright. Might have seen Albright. Wouldn't recognize her if I did.

- spilled: two glasses of red wine. One glass landed on the floor, spraying glass shards and wine all over some woman, who proceeded to give me death glares. Other one didn't break, but sent red wine down my side. Thank goodness for black clothing.

- strained: every muscle in my lower back. Look, folks. If you're at a catered affair, and there's someone moving through a very crowded room with a tray full of heavy items who says, "Excuse me," please move, and not just half an inch away. It's heavy, and her back is probably burning and unless you want the whole tray on your foot, MOVE. (And if it does fall, don't look at her like she's a clumsy oaf. Have you been carrying a heavy tray back and forth for two hours?)

- consumed: cold leftovers at the end of a very long night.

Consensus: some catering gigs are easy, others make you want to drop your tray full of red wine glasses on some haughty chick and walk away forever.

Archimedes

Archimedes
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

One of my few souvenirs from Europe. As mentioned before,I don't feel like buying a lot for no reason. This little guy called to me, though. I named him Archimedes after the owl in Sword & the Stone, a blustery, stuffy, fussy little fellow who was always something of a mess despite the exactitude he wished to project.

Autumn invigorates me. Winter slows everything down, spring makes me itchy, summer lulls me to sleep, and fall makes me want to run around in circles in a field until I fall down. I love fall. I love the clothes I get to wear in fall. Tights, wool skirts, sweaters, scarves. Like I said, I'm a romantic.

Sooo! I want to do NaNoWriMo this year, but I'm supposed to be studying for the LSAT as well. Hm. Can I do it? I really want to. I feel like the daily writing and sharing is good practice, and I want to keep up the habit. NaNoWriMo is a great way to do that. But I also know that I'm not one of the disciplined ones who writes her 1667 words each day. I delay and delay and delay and end up freaking out the second-to-last week of November thinking, "Holy crap! Where did the time go? I'm never going to finish! But I must!" And sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. But if I want to write, I have to do the work, right? So I will do the work.

NaNoWriMo is great because you're given permission (by the "powers that be" over there somewhere in California, and thousands of other NaNoers) to write badly and without restraint. Of course, everyone would love for their novel to be brilliant, but no one's novel is brilliant on the first draft. So NaNo says, "Go ahead and be bad. Just get the story out. You can go back and edit later. Don't beat yourself up about the astronomical crappiness right now." I love that.

Bah. I've gotta get out of my house and enjoy this lovely autumn day. Ciao, chickens!

"That's the end?" - Janet Jackson

"That's the end?" - Janet Jackson
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

HAIR has been extended until September 7th! W00t! I'm going to try the line again on Tuesday morning. :D

In other news, my daily photos are going to go on hiatus for a while. The first reason for that is that I leave in a week for a three-week vacation and I'm not bringing my computer. The second reason is that I'm in need of new inspiration, and the objects are, more often than not, leaving me cold these days. I'm too self-conscious to do a daily self portrait, so I'm hoping other inspiration will strike.

And now, I must go to Borders. And then to work. Five more days. FIVE! MORE! DAYS!

"Stop playing with your hair." - My mother

"Stop playing with your hair." - My mother
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I was supposed to rise with the sun this morning, and trip on up to Central Park to stand in line for tickets to HAIR. I expected myself to be chipper, alert, and out the door by at least 7am.

Yeah.

As you can see from the timestamp on this entry, that didn't happen. I'm still at home, still chillin'. I realized that without a line buddy, I'd have to ask someone to hold my place to go to the bathroom, to get food or water if I needed it, and I'd be sitting on concrete for SIX HOURS. Yeah, no, thanks.

If I were 18 and in love with the musical I'd probably camp out the night before and think it was fun. I'm not 18, and I don't like waiting for web pages to load on a cable internet connection. So, I'll mosey on down to the train in the next 15 minutes, go to the book store, then see what the line situation looks like. If we get tix, we get tix. If we don't, we can try the standby line. Once again, if we get tix, we get tix. If we don't, we don't. I'd love to see it, as I, once upon a time, did a show with one of the cast members, but I'm not going to stress about it.

In other news, getting yesterday's entry out of my system improved my mood. A lot. Some things just need to be said, I suppose.

Scuffed

Scuffed
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I feel like a big coward today. I feel like a big coward because I get freaked out when I try to polish my resume, or when I flip through an LSAT book, or when I think about the impending mountain of rejections, or worse, no response at all.

Reading an older post from PilgrimGirl's blog, I felt humbled that I balk at what are simple tasks compared to what she's gone (and going) through. I'm ashamed of my fear.

But I still don't make any moves. It's easier, simpler, less taxing, to sit still.

Believe me: I wish I didn't think this way. I wish I didn't agonize over every little detail and feeling and impulse. I wish I was content to wake up, go to my 9 to 5 job, come home, watch tv or read, go to bed, and do the same thing over again the next day, and the next, and the next. But this feeling that I need more than that has been going on long enough that I know it's not just something I can "get over" and "get a real job." You can chalk it up to being immature, spoiled, self-centered, or selfish, but I know those explanations don't apply here. I'm driven by the impulse to create. I am, dare I proclaim it, an artist.

Artists are branded with a lot of stereoptypes in this country. Artists are "weird, lazy, flaky people who just don't want to do an honest day's work." Artists are "immature, impotent, homos." Artists are "crazy and broke." Artists are "just avoiding the realities of life." Maybe there have been artists who fall into those categories because, in one way or another, they've been told that being an artist isn't acceptable.

Our loved ones might not say it out loud, but if someone pursuing an artistic life, one that wasn't completely financially stable, decided to go get an MBA, you can bet that their loved ones would breathe a sigh of relief. The motivation for the relief is concern for the artist's well-being, but the message still comes through: art is not a "real job."

There's no reason why an artist can't have a full-time job. A lot of artists do. A full-time job can keep one sane. But they're still an artist who happens to have a full-time job. They're chasing that something, or, rather, letting creativity flow through them. They have somewhere to turn to let it out. They're not toiling in a day job that has become their life, sticking a cap on their creative well. The job is a means to an end.

Bringing it back around to me, I understand that full-time can balance with creativity. I just can't seem to shake the fear that when I interview for these day jobs they'll see right through me. They'll see that I'm not willing to give them all of me, or even the illusion of all of me. Companies seem to be a little insulted when they sense that you're not their priority, no matter how low-level the job.

So I guess what I'm saying is, "I'm awesome. Hire me and I'll be great, as long as you don't expect more of me than the body who occupies space in your office building between the hours of 9 to 5. So gimme a job."

(Yes, I'm being silly. Somewhat.)

(I blabbed a lot today.)

Morla!

Morla!
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Dude. That movie traumatized me. I loved it.

I should be enjoying the morning outside, where it's gorgeous and sunny. The sky is full of white, puffy, marshmallow clouds. There's an occasional breeze strong enough to lift your skirt and the humidity is low. It's a perfect day for cloud-gazing on a rock in Central Park.

But I'm not outside. I'm inside, and in a few minutes I will go take a shower because, in an hour, I need to leave for work. Where I'll sit in a basement for the next five hours, drinking coffee to stay awake, freezing and going a little crazy from the florescent lights. Eight more days. Eight more days. Eight more days.

Laundry Day

Laundry Day
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Day off. Therefore, laundry.

I'm stalling, though. Sitting in the laundromat has to be one of the most boring activities in modern life. The view never changes. Laundry tumbling in washers and driers, other bored laundry patrons, tile floors, beige walls, hard plastic chairs, rickety wooden benches, daytime crap on the television, silver rolling baskets with thread wrapped around their wheels, people folding laundry on the expansive table in the center of the room, "Driers are for use only for people who wash clothes here" signs, watery flourescent light bathing everything it touches with a sickly, clinical yellow.

A recipe for hypnotism.

Antici................pation

Antici................pation
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

My contacts came. And they came with bubble wrap. YES.

Watched Spy Game this morning/afternoon while I twisted my hair. Pretty good movie, actually. Nothing too special, but a pretty good movie. Two handsome gents in the leads will do that.

It's still sunny and warm, although not as humid as yesterday. August is turning out to be less disappointing than I thought it was going to be.

Gotta get ready for work.

ETA: My sister shall henceforth be known as Princess. Princess Poopypants.

Gifts from Paradise

Gifts from Paradise
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I'm having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad morning. The kind of morning where every object in your house seems to want to get in your way so you can trip over it or bark your shin or stub your toe. The kind of morning where you trip lightly on the rug and slosh coffee into your messenger bag. The kind of morning where you discover that you'd been calling a "Mr." a "Ms." and realize that there's no WAY you're gonna get that job now. The kind of morning where it's not hot but wildly humid so your knees and ankles decide they don't want to work properly. The kind of morning where you discover that the refrigerator door has been open a significant crack since 8:30am and everything inside is pretty warm which means the refrigerator was sucking twice the amount of electricity it normally would just to keep everything at "warm". The kind of morning where your eyes seem blurry looking through your glasses, so you put your contacts in and your eyes are still blurry because your contacts are way past their expiration date but you don't have any more pairs in the cabinet. The kind of morning where it all just sucks.

I want to go back to bed.

Coney Island

Coney Island
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

The corn dog was the best part of the day. I only had three dollars, but I had to get something from the original Nathan's. And that something had to be a corn dog. I haven't had a corn dog (corndog?) in years; probably not since the last Minnesota State Fair I attended. It was gooooood, too.

More photos from the day are on my Flickr page. Go there.

A head's up: this blog will be changing. I'm not sure how just yet, but there will be a bookmark change - that is, if you've bookmarked me. So, yeah. Keep an eye out for that. No worries: I'll still be blogging and posting photos. I just need to make some changes.

I Guess It's A Snickers

I Guess It's A Snickers
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I don't remember where I was, but I was watching television. It was unusual because I don't own a television, nor do I frequent places that have televisions on and available. Nevertheless, I was somewhere, watching television.

A public service announcement came on. The donkey from Shrek started rapping (badly) about kids getting up and playing outside. Computer animated storybook forest creatures cavorted and did outdated, embarassing, "my parents are STILL doing the Macarena at weddings" dances, while children ran, in a manic fashion, around a playground. It's weird, but cute.

However, while watching, it hit me that this was a PSA to get children to go outside and play. How weird is that? I don't remember being a grade schooler and my mother and father telling me to go outside and play. (They probably did, repeatedly, when I was a teenager, but laziness is intrinsic to adolescence and cannot be countered with parental admonishment.) I remember them having to yell at me several times to come back inside and eat dinner/do homework/take a bath and go to bed. What have we come to that we have to make commercials where animated movie characters tell kids to get off their butts and go play?

My temporary roommate put it simply: "It's a symptom of the internet and video game culture." I totally get that, but it still disturbs me on a fundamental level. Physical education is relegated to once a week for an hour. We dope our children with television, video games, movies, and food because we don't want to deal with them. No wonder kids have no love for movement or the wide-open possibilities of the outdoors.

It hurts my heart. I, currently, can't go to dance class because I'm (still) recovering from a sprained ankle. I feel like I'm a little crazed. I don't get the release of shutting down my logic center, using a different part of my brain, and exhausting my body at least once every other day. It hurts me that perfectly healthy children are not taking advantage of what I would (almost) kill to do.

Wake up, people! How can we make this better?

Product Placement

Product Placement
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I'm learning through this daily photo project of mine that not every photo is going to be a masterpiece. Not every photo can be a masterpiece. In fact, most of them are going to be disasters at best and boring at worst. The people who seem like they're cranking out masterpiece after masterpiece spend a lot of time laying big, fat, turdy duds. They just don't show the good stuff until it's ready.

I've chosen to show the good and bad. All too often all we see is the good. In today's media, everyone glitters, with every hair intact and not a pimple in sight. Even "wardrobe malfunctions" are calculated for maximum press coverage. No one wants to show the messy side. No one wants to show that they're human.

Because we never see human beings in the media, we come to expect that every public face will be a perfect one. The truth is, those people have an army of stylists to shellack their hair in place, and a dermatologist standing by with a big, fat needle full of cortisone to attack any and all pimples. Being perfect takes a lot of work.

So here I am. I'm showing the work. Maybe it's not as much fun for you, the viewer, but it is educational. Watch and learn, and maybe celebrate with me when I manage to stumble onto a masterpiece.

No photo today

Yesterday's post was deleted due to whining.  Whining: mine.  And sometimes, I get tired of the whining, so I just delete.  Delete, delete, delete.

I write three stream-of-consciousness pages every morning.  I try to write three stream-of-consciousness pages every morning.  Some morning I fail because I don't wake up early enough and I have to be somewhere.  But most days I write them.  The intent of these pages is not to share them.  They are for the artist and the artist alone.  However, I will share that for the last, oh, two months, I've probably mentioned my need for a job change almost every day.  Ms. Julia Cameron says that anything you find yourself consistently griping about in your pages means it's time to change whatever that thing is.  And she's right.

So yesterday, I turned in my notice at my part-time job.  I didn't want to talk about it before I actually did it.  Now that I've done it, I can.  I enjoyed working there, for the most part, but I've come to realize that I need full-time employment.  I can tolerate most non-career related positions if my financial needs are being met.  They weren't at this job.  That's the long and short of it.  New York is expensive, and I have bills to pay.

I've also realized in the last few weeks that I am highly employable, and not just at McDonald's.  So, full-time job, here I come!

Every Morning

Every Morning
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I'm a coffee addict. Admitted, confessed, totally come clean. I LOVE to drink coffee. I love the smell, the heat, and the action of it. I suppose it's the same for cigarette addicts: the chemicals are only a small part of the experience of smoking a cigarette. The rest of the activity is just as addictive.

I have a day off today. That means I run around doing all the things I don't do when I have to work later. For instance, today I'll be attending a workshop for actors looking for side work. Maybe they'll give me some ideas.

I also have to attend a diversity training class at my part-time job. *gag* I know it's important, but corporate diversity training classes tend to be...lame. (See: "Diversity Day" episode of The Office.) I believe this one is simply a matter of compliance with federal blah dee blahs. We sign in, watch a video, and leave. "Hooray. I am now extremely knowledgeable about workplace diversity and will never offend anyone ever again. This 30-minute video has given me the tools I need to succeed in my diversification endeavors." 

Went to a free concert in Central Park yesterday. It was good to get out of the house, even if it drizzled on us most of the time. I'm just glad we didn't get the brunt of the storm, because there sure were some yellows and reds on the radar passing just south of the city. We simply enjoyed the benefits: an afternoon high of 77 degrees. Haven't experienced that since June, or maybe even May. And it seems to be lingering today. Rockin.

More Jewelry

More Jewelry
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I wore these yesterday.

It's still warm outside, although yesterday evening had a little chill in the air. It was glorious. I needed my wrap walking home.

Honestly? I'm looking forward to fall. I love the feeling in the air, I love the clothes, and I love being able to walk five feet from my door without breaking a sweat. Not looking forward to winter, but you can't have one without the other.

In other news: another day, another dollar (down the drain).

Still Wrapped

Still Wrapped
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

This pretty thing was a gift from a dear, selfless friend. I miss her. She's a busy woman with a lot of responsibilities.

The heat has finally backed off a touch. We slept without the a/c last night for the first time in a week.

I need to clean.

Blah blah blah workety schmurkety.

I Love Color

I Love Color
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I am blessed that I have a job, and am not going into debt or starving and living on the street.
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
(If I keep typing it, do you think I'll eventually believe it?)
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
(I don't think it's working.)
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
I am blessed that I have a job.
(Now it just doesn't even make sense anymore.)

Power Bracelet

Power Bracelet
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Can you see me in the reflection over there?

I don't really want to go to work. I never really want to go to work, though, so that's not news.

I never minded getting up at the crack of dawn to go to a shoot. 7am call? Sign me up. I love being on set. I don't mind the hurry up and wait. I don't mind the sometimes tense atmosphere. I don't even mind the sometimes funky attitudes of others. I love watching everyone work together to create something kind of magical - even if it's a training film for a pharmaceutical company so filled with medical jargon that I read the teleprompter and have NO idea what I'm saying but know that I can sell it anyway.

I miss going to shoots. I also miss getting paid more than a month's day job wages for just a few hours' work. But even when I'm not getting paid, I love being on set.

Almost a year ago I shot a commercial for Cox Business Services. It was August, and we were shooting in a stripped warehouse. Because it was stripped, there was no air conditioning. Add about 75 bodies and gigantic camera lighting and you have a room temperature approaching 90 degrees. I won't lie: it was miserably hot.

But you know what? I didn't complain once. Even when I felt my consciousness retreating somewhere way in the back of my brain behind an impending faint and all I could do to stay awake was stand very still and fan myself and concentrate on not sweating, I didn't complain. I was so grateful to be exactly where I wanted to be, getting paid to do exactly what I wanted to do, that a little momentary discomfort was nothing.

So, yeah. I don't want to go to work today. I'd rather be melting in a warehouse than sitting at a desk answering phones. But I suppose this is a momentary discomfort to be able to do what I want to do.

Duchess!

Duchess!
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Still hot.

Put some headshots in the mail.

Ate too much burrito and chips.

Sticky and not wanting to go to work tomorrow.

Woo, summer.

Frosty

Frosty
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Gosh, it's hot.

Don't wanna move.

Don't wanna leave the house.

Just wanna lay here and catch up on So You Think You Can Dance.

Gluttony

Gluttony
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Another World

Another World
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle