I have now been working at Zeke's Smokehouse for two weeks. I am feeling more confident with the menu, as I am the person responsible for taking to-go orders, packing up orders for takeout and delivery, and serving the customers at the counter. I have a good time joking around with the kitchen staff, who affectionately call me "amore" or "corazon" laughingly, and who are teaching me simple Spanish, like "lechuga" (lettuce), "pepino" (pickle) "Estoy consada" (I am tired). With such a vast knowledge of the language, I will surely do great things. At this point of my career with the restaurant, I have three specific topics which merit sharing. These topics include: the tip rant, the salad, and cow-tipping. Those three topics also sound like an excellent self-help book title.
Part I: The Tip Rant
I realize we are in the midst of an economic recession. However, by economic recession, that means all of us, including the cashier or server who works at your favorite take-out restaurant. I grew up next to the Swingin' Door, a legendary barbecue restaurant, and every once in a while we would order a pound of brisket and some sauce for takeout, which we would then use to make delicious sandwiches at home. Looking back, I don't know if we ever tipped the cashier.
Now, I know many people don't know whether or not to tip the cashier. After all, he or she just stands there and hands out food and receipts while smiling, right? Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Please, kind and well-meaning people of the world, when you order something to pickup, tip your darned cashier. Your cashier (aka, me myself and I) is responsible for helping out the waiters, taking phone orders [over loud, live music and screeching infants], packing up orders (including the correct sauces, cutlery, condiments, garlic bread, and labeling), wiping down around the kitchen and serving line, and getting items prepared faster than Superman flies, all while wearing a bright, beautiful smile across his or her face.
As I have learned since enlisting in the food services ranks, the cashier (and I quote, from a mocking waiter), "does the most work for the least amount of money." Additionally, I can tell you that, personally, the money I make in tips is what goes toward buying my weekly groceries. So yes, your dime-and-three-pennies change is appreciated, but it doesn't buy me more than a couple of tic-tacs come Sunday, and I would really like to remain non-emaciated, if that's alright by you. Give me a buck or two. And may God have mercy on your soul, if you order $85 worth of food, ask for particular sauces, are served water (with lemon!) while waiting, and then leave my restaurant without leaving me a dime. I will never draw a smiley-face on your takeout container again, I swear it. And what then? Everyone will be depressed due to the lack of "melon-heads" (apparently an Asian term for people who go around smiling all of the time). So please, everyone. I know times are hard, but if you can afford to buy food out for $85, you can afford to leave the cashier - who works for a measly $9 an hour - a $1 tip. Think of it this way: you just raised my salary by eleven percent! Good on you.
Monday, July 26, 2010
The Sunscreen Speech
"Get to know your parents, you never know when they'll be gone for good.
***
What I spent my teenage years knowing as "the sunscreen speech" continues to speak truths to me today. If you've never heard of it and am clueless as to what I am talking about, I encourage you to listen to the speech online, or at least to read the lyrics. The writing is straightforward, and the meaning is inherent for each of us.
I am still getting to know my parents, even though I no longer live in the same house as them. I miss having a free pantry to raid and the bliss of not having to pay bills or sort through paperwork for five hours at a time, as I used to watch my parents do. I miss our family road trips during the summers with our RV, even if I never understood "enjoying the scenery" at age eleven. I miss watching movies with "chippies" and salsa, and fish sticks (well, the act of fish sticks - not so much fish sticks themselves), and driving to dance classes, and being able to go home to undeniable, unyielding support. Even now, as I am dirt-poor and occasionally resorting to a can of Pringles for dinner, my parents lend me support or money, like a recent check for me to join AFTRA (so that I can hopefully get more work as a stunt performer and as an actor).
This weekend, I received an envelope in the mail from my mother. I laughed out loud as I turned the envelope over and saw five giant, absurdly large "V" (for "Vincent") stamps on it. I opened the envelope and found a simple note, accompanied by four separate checks for a decent sum of money. In Mommy handwriting was simply written, "Invest in YOU. Do what it takes! :) :) Put these aside in your lockbox in case you need them, but in the meantime, STOP STRESSING ABOUT $! P.S., I was just kidding about only sending you money to jump off buildings. You can use them for food if you really want to... just don't tell anyone what a softie I am. :)"
Sorry, mommy. I told.
After reading my mom's note, I started crying, tears colliding with the huge smile on my face, because of how lucky I am to have such supportive parents. My parents are not perfect by any stretch of the imagination; like all human beings, they have their shortcomings as people. But they are absolutely committed to giving myself and my siblings every opportunity they can. And for that, I love them so dearly.
A word to my peers: tell your parents you love them, and tell them thank-you, often. Siblings and fine friends are no different. So what if you weren't close while growing up, or if you haven't really spoken to that high school peer in several years. Take a deep breath, reach out, and give yourself permission to be vulnerable enough to grow close to someone, maybe again, or maybe for the first time. You have nothing to lose, and only love to gain.
Be nice to your siblings; they are your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography in lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young."
- An excerpt from Everybody's Free (to Wear Sunscreen), by Baz Luhrmann***
What I spent my teenage years knowing as "the sunscreen speech" continues to speak truths to me today. If you've never heard of it and am clueless as to what I am talking about, I encourage you to listen to the speech online, or at least to read the lyrics. The writing is straightforward, and the meaning is inherent for each of us.
I am still getting to know my parents, even though I no longer live in the same house as them. I miss having a free pantry to raid and the bliss of not having to pay bills or sort through paperwork for five hours at a time, as I used to watch my parents do. I miss our family road trips during the summers with our RV, even if I never understood "enjoying the scenery" at age eleven. I miss watching movies with "chippies" and salsa, and fish sticks (well, the act of fish sticks - not so much fish sticks themselves), and driving to dance classes, and being able to go home to undeniable, unyielding support. Even now, as I am dirt-poor and occasionally resorting to a can of Pringles for dinner, my parents lend me support or money, like a recent check for me to join AFTRA (so that I can hopefully get more work as a stunt performer and as an actor).
This weekend, I received an envelope in the mail from my mother. I laughed out loud as I turned the envelope over and saw five giant, absurdly large "V" (for "Vincent") stamps on it. I opened the envelope and found a simple note, accompanied by four separate checks for a decent sum of money. In Mommy handwriting was simply written, "Invest in YOU. Do what it takes! :) :) Put these aside in your lockbox in case you need them, but in the meantime, STOP STRESSING ABOUT $! P.S., I was just kidding about only sending you money to jump off buildings. You can use them for food if you really want to... just don't tell anyone what a softie I am. :)"
Sorry, mommy. I told.
After reading my mom's note, I started crying, tears colliding with the huge smile on my face, because of how lucky I am to have such supportive parents. My parents are not perfect by any stretch of the imagination; like all human beings, they have their shortcomings as people. But they are absolutely committed to giving myself and my siblings every opportunity they can. And for that, I love them so dearly.
A word to my peers: tell your parents you love them, and tell them thank-you, often. Siblings and fine friends are no different. So what if you weren't close while growing up, or if you haven't really spoken to that high school peer in several years. Take a deep breath, reach out, and give yourself permission to be vulnerable enough to grow close to someone, maybe again, or maybe for the first time. You have nothing to lose, and only love to gain.
The Oddity that is Spray Tanning
Just a quick word on spray tanning: it is a bizarre experience.
I was used as a spray tan model last Thursday at a boutique salon in Beverly Hills. As I was going in for a test shoot for bikini shots with a local gym on Friday afternoon, I figured a spray tan would be the quickest (and least painful way) to remedy tan lines reminiscent of elementary school tye-dye projects gone awry.
So I went in for a free spray tan. This entailed stripping down to the buff and standing on a little carpet square, while a nice lady in her thirties literally sprayed my entire body with what looked like an industrial bug spray canister attached to an industrial vacuum. We didn't really speak; she simply uttered quick, short phrases like "face the wall" or "palm up" or "hold your breath", and then it was over. The two women on staff did take an interest in my yoga teaching, however, so I promised to pass along some information on the yoga studio, as well as raw recipes, as one of them was a vegetarian. A half hour after arriving, I walked out of the salon, smelling like the not-quite-right coconut smell sunless tanning produces.
Now, while spray-tanning, you are not supposed to exfoliate, so that the tan lasts longer. Did I exfoliate? No. Like a wholesome, rule-obeying tanee, I used mild body soap the next morning. Yet when I got out of the shower, I had bright white armpits and bits of spray-tan peeling off of my stomach, which now resembled a speckled robin's egg. Although Sally Hansen's "Spray-on Legs" product helped patch up that little disaster for the afternoon, I think the verdict still rings true: spray tans aren't for me.
Another add to the wishlist: tan-through swimsuit. Yes, they do manufacture these. And if you're working toward being a bikini model on the side to make some dough, it's either spray tanning, or this apparatus. Pass the bikini, please.
I was used as a spray tan model last Thursday at a boutique salon in Beverly Hills. As I was going in for a test shoot for bikini shots with a local gym on Friday afternoon, I figured a spray tan would be the quickest (and least painful way) to remedy tan lines reminiscent of elementary school tye-dye projects gone awry.
So I went in for a free spray tan. This entailed stripping down to the buff and standing on a little carpet square, while a nice lady in her thirties literally sprayed my entire body with what looked like an industrial bug spray canister attached to an industrial vacuum. We didn't really speak; she simply uttered quick, short phrases like "face the wall" or "palm up" or "hold your breath", and then it was over. The two women on staff did take an interest in my yoga teaching, however, so I promised to pass along some information on the yoga studio, as well as raw recipes, as one of them was a vegetarian. A half hour after arriving, I walked out of the salon, smelling like the not-quite-right coconut smell sunless tanning produces.
Now, while spray-tanning, you are not supposed to exfoliate, so that the tan lasts longer. Did I exfoliate? No. Like a wholesome, rule-obeying tanee, I used mild body soap the next morning. Yet when I got out of the shower, I had bright white armpits and bits of spray-tan peeling off of my stomach, which now resembled a speckled robin's egg. Although Sally Hansen's "Spray-on Legs" product helped patch up that little disaster for the afternoon, I think the verdict still rings true: spray tans aren't for me.
Another add to the wishlist: tan-through swimsuit. Yes, they do manufacture these. And if you're working toward being a bikini model on the side to make some dough, it's either spray tanning, or this apparatus. Pass the bikini, please.
Extra on "Criminal Minds"
This past Wednesday, I had my first job as an extra on the show "Criminal Minds". Although the drive to set should have taken forty-five minutes tops, seeing as Los Angeles traffic is absolutely unpredictable, I decided to leave at 5:30pm for a 7pm call time. When I arrived at fifteen til seven, I was highly grateful for this rare foresight on my part. After waiting in the off-site parking lot until around seven fifteen, we all drove over to the set together in a little caravan, as the show was using the group of us as car extras (they were aiming to create the situation that the talent was stuck in LA traffic which, as I could attest at this point, is not at all uncommon).
Wouldn't you know that, once on set, they parked me right behind the "lead vehicle" (yes, even automobiles get status assignments in Hollywood). So I sat in my dust-covered Honda in the dusky evening light, parked on a little residential street with my headlights on and my foot on the break, windows rolled down, surrounded by curious neighbors ogling and snapping pictures of the scenario, and watched the talent act through their right side mirror (Thomas Gibson and Paget Brewster, both sporting bulletproof vests for the shot). After an hour or so, the director wanted to change up the lineup of cars for another shot, and wouldn't you know that they parked my car right alongside the lead car. As the crew set up external lighting and checked the lights and microphones inside of the lead car, one of the stand-ins seated in the car next to me, a smug, muttering man who, with his sweater and slicked-back hair and hard look of arrogance, could have been cast perfectly as a Nazi in a WWII film, assured me that I had to join SAG and that not doing so was idiotic and would cut me off with work. I smiled politely and agreed, keeping in mind that roughly eighty percent of SAG actors are unemployed at any given time, and kindly reminded him that most of the upcoming shows this fall are AFTRA anyways. He scoffed and then tried to give me advice on being a stunt performer which, given his physical appearance and whiney attitude, I am sure he had absolutely no knowledge of whatsoever. Oh, actors. Give a guy a role as a stand-in on a television show, and he suddenly thinks he's Marlon Brando or Laurence Olivier.
The stand-ins then departed, and as I took a deep breath of gratitude for having some degree of humility, Joe Mantegna strolled up next to my window, peered in, and asked, "so how are you doing this evening?" I was stunned. Joe Mantegna, the star of "Criminal Minds", and a well-known actor, was speaking to me. He sat in the car, as the series regular (whom I could not identify by name, but whom I recognized) sat in the driver's seat, peered over toward my car with an air of intrigue, and said, "well geez, I guess they could have parked us next to someone worse-looking. What's your name, hun?"
We continued to talk throughout the next half hour or so, as I divulged that I had only been in Los Angeles for a few months and explained that this was my first night on set. Joe explained that he had worked with Stephen Shwartz, another esteemed and famous alum of Carnegie Mellon, on the original "Godspell" (as well as "Working", which has some beautiful music). Before my car got moved, I gave each of them a business card. While this may have been a shot in the dark, it definitely didn't hurt anything.
About an hour later, and just before we wrapped up, the series regular, on his way to pay the much-loved taco guy a visit down the block, saw me in my car and made a point of coming over to talk to me. "Chelsea, who took your headshots?" As my headshots are featured on my card, I explained that a classmate had taken them back at school. "You need to get new ones," he answered, in complete earnest. "You are much, much prettier than this. Find a photographer out here and get new headshots. You will be doing yourself a favor. Have a good night." And with that, he smiled, waved, and meandered over toward the sizzling pulled pork and tomatillo salsa. I smiled to myself, amazed that he had actually taken the time to come over and give me such honest advice, and made my way back to base camp. I returned the orange tank top I had borrowed from wardrobe, got my waiver signed off on, and started the hour-long drive home in the cool, California summer air. I was on cloud nine. Not bad for my first day on set as an extra.
Adding to the wishlist: new headshots.
Wouldn't you know that, once on set, they parked me right behind the "lead vehicle" (yes, even automobiles get status assignments in Hollywood). So I sat in my dust-covered Honda in the dusky evening light, parked on a little residential street with my headlights on and my foot on the break, windows rolled down, surrounded by curious neighbors ogling and snapping pictures of the scenario, and watched the talent act through their right side mirror (Thomas Gibson and Paget Brewster, both sporting bulletproof vests for the shot). After an hour or so, the director wanted to change up the lineup of cars for another shot, and wouldn't you know that they parked my car right alongside the lead car. As the crew set up external lighting and checked the lights and microphones inside of the lead car, one of the stand-ins seated in the car next to me, a smug, muttering man who, with his sweater and slicked-back hair and hard look of arrogance, could have been cast perfectly as a Nazi in a WWII film, assured me that I had to join SAG and that not doing so was idiotic and would cut me off with work. I smiled politely and agreed, keeping in mind that roughly eighty percent of SAG actors are unemployed at any given time, and kindly reminded him that most of the upcoming shows this fall are AFTRA anyways. He scoffed and then tried to give me advice on being a stunt performer which, given his physical appearance and whiney attitude, I am sure he had absolutely no knowledge of whatsoever. Oh, actors. Give a guy a role as a stand-in on a television show, and he suddenly thinks he's Marlon Brando or Laurence Olivier.
The stand-ins then departed, and as I took a deep breath of gratitude for having some degree of humility, Joe Mantegna strolled up next to my window, peered in, and asked, "so how are you doing this evening?" I was stunned. Joe Mantegna, the star of "Criminal Minds", and a well-known actor, was speaking to me. He sat in the car, as the series regular (whom I could not identify by name, but whom I recognized) sat in the driver's seat, peered over toward my car with an air of intrigue, and said, "well geez, I guess they could have parked us next to someone worse-looking. What's your name, hun?"
We continued to talk throughout the next half hour or so, as I divulged that I had only been in Los Angeles for a few months and explained that this was my first night on set. Joe explained that he had worked with Stephen Shwartz, another esteemed and famous alum of Carnegie Mellon, on the original "Godspell" (as well as "Working", which has some beautiful music). Before my car got moved, I gave each of them a business card. While this may have been a shot in the dark, it definitely didn't hurt anything.
About an hour later, and just before we wrapped up, the series regular, on his way to pay the much-loved taco guy a visit down the block, saw me in my car and made a point of coming over to talk to me. "Chelsea, who took your headshots?" As my headshots are featured on my card, I explained that a classmate had taken them back at school. "You need to get new ones," he answered, in complete earnest. "You are much, much prettier than this. Find a photographer out here and get new headshots. You will be doing yourself a favor. Have a good night." And with that, he smiled, waved, and meandered over toward the sizzling pulled pork and tomatillo salsa. I smiled to myself, amazed that he had actually taken the time to come over and give me such honest advice, and made my way back to base camp. I returned the orange tank top I had borrowed from wardrobe, got my waiver signed off on, and started the hour-long drive home in the cool, California summer air. I was on cloud nine. Not bad for my first day on set as an extra.
Adding to the wishlist: new headshots.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Yoga with Steven Metz
The past few days seem to have slipped right by, without me having a few spare seconds to sit down and write. Ahh. It feels like a relief to sit down and take into account what has kept me so busy this week.
Throughout Tuesday night, I tossed and turned and sweated out of anxiety over my meeting with Steven Metz on Wednesday. I was going to have to teach a half-hour class to a man who has taught for almost twenty years and who has celebrity clients, and I was a wreck. I woke up on Wednesday morning and went to an exceptionally relaxing yoga class (with Billy Gill at Yogaworks, whom I highly recommend). Within five minutes of leaving class, I was a nervous mess all over again. I rushed home, showered, created a Pandora station for "Bhagavan Das" (aka, yogi music), and read through my notebook from teacher training, which I haven't touched in years. Nevermind that I have been teaching for three years; I was convinced that everything I know about yoga was going to evaporate once I met Steven.
Once I met up with Steven, we headed into the studio, where he stood on his mat and announced, "I'm ready." My mind blanked; "So.. should I teach as though I'm teaching a private class, or should I pretend I'm teaching a class class?" Steven told me to teach as I would a class, so I took a deep breath and started off, "Hi everyone, and welcome. My name is Chelsea. Do we have anyone who is new to yoga?"
I then proceeded to guide Steven through the beginning of a moderate-level practice, according to what I learned back at Amazing Yoga in Pittsburgh. After a few minutes, Steven stopped. "I have a training after this, and I don't want my muscles to be tired out. Just keep speaking through your flow, and I'm going to listen." And with that, he sat down, closed his eyes, and waited for me to keep speaking. At this point, I had a mild panic attack, wondering how to teach a class to an empty class, without any bodies to guide, adjust, or provide modifications for. I began walking around the white studio, the familiar feel of a sturdy wood floor under my feet, and started pretending there were people in my yoga class. I passed by Veeren, by Helen, by Richard, by people whom I had instructed before and who inspired me, and as I imagined their bodies in motion, I was able to speak with confidence and with clarity. And guess what? I got the job!
"I can tell you've been teaching for a while. Your flow is a lot slower than the classes we teach here [cue jaw hitting the floor], but you're solid, and I would feel fine letting you sub a class. Come in on Saturday and take my class, so you can get an idea of the type of style I teach, and then if you feel like it's a good fit, you can start working the desk and subbing, we can do a trade. And if people really like you and start wanting you to have your own class, then I'll be able to pay you as a teacher."
I was elated. I was overjoyed. As of this afternoon, following my first class with Steven - which was, without a doubt, the most difficult yoga class I have ever experienced, on par with my teacher training - I was even exhausted. Yet I happily agreed. In exchange for substitute teaching and checking people in at the studio, I will be able to practice yoga essentially for free, with someone who has a vast wealth of knowledge to share. I count this as a big win. :)
As a side thought, there are a few things I would like to add to the wishlist:
*Itunes giftcard (to buy the songs "Meerabai", "Kashi Vishvanath", "Kate Hain Din", cd named "Dasi", and some Don Frankenreiter music, which I think I would like, based on Pandora)
*Tickets to the Jack Johnson concert on October 8th
*Plane tickets home to be at my grandparents' 50th Wedding Anniversary on October 16th
*A vacation :)
(I'll catch everyone up on the other happenings from this week tomorrow. I need me some shut eye, folks. Thanks for your patience, and sweet dreams.)
Throughout Tuesday night, I tossed and turned and sweated out of anxiety over my meeting with Steven Metz on Wednesday. I was going to have to teach a half-hour class to a man who has taught for almost twenty years and who has celebrity clients, and I was a wreck. I woke up on Wednesday morning and went to an exceptionally relaxing yoga class (with Billy Gill at Yogaworks, whom I highly recommend). Within five minutes of leaving class, I was a nervous mess all over again. I rushed home, showered, created a Pandora station for "Bhagavan Das" (aka, yogi music), and read through my notebook from teacher training, which I haven't touched in years. Nevermind that I have been teaching for three years; I was convinced that everything I know about yoga was going to evaporate once I met Steven.
Once I met up with Steven, we headed into the studio, where he stood on his mat and announced, "I'm ready." My mind blanked; "So.. should I teach as though I'm teaching a private class, or should I pretend I'm teaching a class class?" Steven told me to teach as I would a class, so I took a deep breath and started off, "Hi everyone, and welcome. My name is Chelsea. Do we have anyone who is new to yoga?"
I then proceeded to guide Steven through the beginning of a moderate-level practice, according to what I learned back at Amazing Yoga in Pittsburgh. After a few minutes, Steven stopped. "I have a training after this, and I don't want my muscles to be tired out. Just keep speaking through your flow, and I'm going to listen." And with that, he sat down, closed his eyes, and waited for me to keep speaking. At this point, I had a mild panic attack, wondering how to teach a class to an empty class, without any bodies to guide, adjust, or provide modifications for. I began walking around the white studio, the familiar feel of a sturdy wood floor under my feet, and started pretending there were people in my yoga class. I passed by Veeren, by Helen, by Richard, by people whom I had instructed before and who inspired me, and as I imagined their bodies in motion, I was able to speak with confidence and with clarity. And guess what? I got the job!
"I can tell you've been teaching for a while. Your flow is a lot slower than the classes we teach here [cue jaw hitting the floor], but you're solid, and I would feel fine letting you sub a class. Come in on Saturday and take my class, so you can get an idea of the type of style I teach, and then if you feel like it's a good fit, you can start working the desk and subbing, we can do a trade. And if people really like you and start wanting you to have your own class, then I'll be able to pay you as a teacher."
I was elated. I was overjoyed. As of this afternoon, following my first class with Steven - which was, without a doubt, the most difficult yoga class I have ever experienced, on par with my teacher training - I was even exhausted. Yet I happily agreed. In exchange for substitute teaching and checking people in at the studio, I will be able to practice yoga essentially for free, with someone who has a vast wealth of knowledge to share. I count this as a big win. :)
As a side thought, there are a few things I would like to add to the wishlist:
*Itunes giftcard (to buy the songs "Meerabai", "Kashi Vishvanath", "Kate Hain Din", cd named "Dasi", and some Don Frankenreiter music, which I think I would like, based on Pandora)
*Tickets to the Jack Johnson concert on October 8th
*Plane tickets home to be at my grandparents' 50th Wedding Anniversary on October 16th
*A vacation :)
(I'll catch everyone up on the other happenings from this week tomorrow. I need me some shut eye, folks. Thanks for your patience, and sweet dreams.)
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Employment Hopes?
The following is an article I saw this morning on IMDBPro, taken from the Hollywood Reporter. Hold on to your socks, ye penniless actors, designers, writers, and directors. Our time is coming.
Film, TV employment to rise in 2010, '11
12 hours ago | HollywoodReporter.com | See recent The Hollywood Reporter news »
A regional economic group's midyear forecast predicts an uptick in Hollywood employment this year followed by similar jobs gains in 2011 -- provided the town doesn't go on strike.
"Next year, we are looking for an increase of about 15,000 jobs," said Jack Kyser, economist at the Los Angeles Economic Development Corp. "But there is a big asterisk on that because in the middle of 2011, you have all the Hollywood labor contracts expiring."
Combined film and TV employment would reach a total of 170,400 jobs if the Laedc forecast holds up, though Kyser said all bets are off if one or more guilds walk the picket line.
He recalled the devastating economic impact of the 100-day WGA strike in 2007-08. "The writers are still feeling the impact," Kyser said.
Overall, jobs recovery is showing good momentum in Los Angeles County and adjoining communities, he said.
"We have seen a very nice rebound in motion picture and TV employment, »
- By Carl DiOrio
Whistle While You Work
Today was a day of running around, setting appointments, and feeling like a whirlwind duststorm. I randomly thought about an Eva Mendes interview in a magazine I read a few months ago, where Eva attributed her refurbished derrier to working out with a trainer and changing her eating habbits. Eva said that when she was first starting out, "all I ate was junk food, like Jack in the Box, because I was always on the run and constantly eating in my car." I now know how Eva felt, after practically ingesting a fruit salad at a stoplight today, on the way from one photoshoot to the next, as the people in the car next to me probably chuckled and said to themselves, well, there goes another starving actor. Whew.
This morning I paid my bills, including a quick drive over to my landlord's house to drop off my rent check. Paying bills was my loss for the day. While my landlord and his wife were vacationing in Napa, enjoying strolls through the vineyard (perhaps wheelchair escapades) and sipping Cab Sauv, I was begrudgingly slipping my rent check - worth approximately 87.5 hours of packing to-go orders and wiping tables at Zeke's Smokehouse - under their quaint Hollywood Hills' veranda door. Loss.
I then made my way to another test shoot for 365 Hangers, which is the discount designer website I mentioned a few days ago. I must say that the five outfits I modeled today were much more flattering, so keep an eye out for new pictures in about two weeks (www.365hangers.com). Also, if you buy an item I model, I get to keep something like three percent as commission! Three percent may not sound like a lot to you, but money in the piggy bank keeps me eating. Go buy some goodies, and start following the group on facebook. I am doing a test run with the company now. If they like me, and if the things I model online sell, I get to stay on as a permanent model, which would be lovely. :) Even though I'm not being paid at the moment (except gas allowance), working with the group of women that is the driving force behind 365 Hangers is a very fun, very relaxing experience. The owner of the company is very motherly, yet young enough to be hip, and even though this is a start-up, she brings in snacks and lunch for whomever is at the studio each day, and she makes sure to catch up with every girl who walks in the door. The stylist, photographer, and makeup artist are all very charming girls in their twenties. When I walk in the door, I feel like I've just stepped out of Los Angeles, riddled with old sketchball men (not all of the men, but enough), and into a sleepover from my teenage years. We giggle, we do hair and makeup, we take fun pictures, we eat, we look at cute clothes. All that's missing is the cookie dough and the chick flick! I love going to see the 365 team.
Following that shoot, which lasted several hours, I drove to a gym where I will likely be hired as a bikini model, only to find the door locked and nobody home. I called the owner, a renowned personal trainer, who had made a mistake and written down the wrong time. He felt awful about the situation and offered to reimburse me for gas if I could come back sometime later this week. I agreed, and we set up a meeting for Friday afternoon. If all goes well, the shoot will take place this weekend. God willing, I will be able to muster up some sort of a tan by then. The trainer saw my old bikini shots, was horrified by my complexion, and asked if I still had that ridiculous tan line. I sort of told a half-truth.. Sally Hansen spray-on legs, which sounds disgusting, works wonders for creating last-minute tans, as I learned when I performed as Roxie at the Tommy Tune Awards in high school). That being said, I am working on getting at least minimal overall color so I no longer stick out in Hollywood as the walking dead. That movie has already been made.
I then drove home for a short break, which ended up being quite exciting. First, I got an email from Steven "Earth" Metz, who opened Earth's Power Yoga in Los Angeles in 1994, inviting me to teach him for half an hour tomorrow as a sort of test-run to see if I can substitute teach at the studio, in exchange for a yoga membership there. I accepted, of course. However, I am now terrified. Some of the things which have been said about Steven include:
"I started practicing Yoga in Los Angeles with Steven Earth Metz because I heard he was a really great Yoga Teacher, I stayed with him because it is true." -Renee Zellwegger
"I practice and enjoy Steven's classes whenever I am in Los Angeles." -Jewel
"I ask for Steven Earth Metz whenever I am in Los Angeles because he is the best!" -Penelope Cruz
In case you didn't notice, this man, this living legend of the yogic realm, is sought after by everyone in LA - including celebrities - because of how incredible he is at teaching. How I am supposed to prove to him in thirty minutes tomorrow that I am up to snuff, I have not a clue. I will try my best, and hopefully, that will be enough. Instead of putting pressure on myself, I am trying to look at it from this persepctive: how privileged I am to be able to spend a half an hour working alone with such a revered yoga teacher, who is generous enough to let a random stranger who sent him an email lead him in a practice. This is compassion and generosity in motion. Win number one for today.
Another big break came today when I finally, finally managed to get through on the Central Casting non-union women's line! This single act, in and of itself, was nothing short of a miracle. When the phone actually started ringing, my mouth dropped open, and I had to remind myself to speak to keep the casting director on the other end of the call from hanging up on me. Ladies and gentlemen, I have officially booked my first job as an extra! Tomorrow, Wednesday, July 21st, at 7pm, I will be driving my gold 2007 Honda past a church for "Criminal Minds". It is embarrassing how exciting this advancement was to me (I feel my drama teachers cringing), but hey, it's a start. One of my favorite sayings is: "work begets work." Tomorrow, I will test out that theory, as I arrive early to set, multiple costume changes in tow, and business cards flying this way and that. Hurrah. This is most definitely a win!
At 6:30pm, I went to EssensualsLondon, a salon which just opened in Hollywood a few weeks ago, to act as a hair model for one of the senior stylists. Although it took two-and-a-half hours, I walked out of the salon (another major celebrity hangout, due to their very talented stylists) with a gorgeous haircut worth $100 for free. Haircuts at EssensualsLondon, a salon connected to the UK Tony & Guy, can go all the way up to $300 a cut. That's before tip, color, treatments - anything. Just for the cut. Yet the people who worked in the salon were so friendly and welcoming. No one looked at me like an outsider for not carrying a Gucci bag. :) New haircut paired with positive attitudes equals my third win for today.
I made it home around 9:30pm, scarfed down a salad and some squash with goat's cheese, checked emails and the like, and then, both tragically and joyfully, I watched the last episode of LOST. Excuse the pun, but I was personally at a loss as to what to feel or think after the episode ended. Overall, I really enjoyed the series. While season five dragged on for me, season six definitely made up for it. I did not cry during the last episode, but I did get teary-eyed, partially because of the content, and partially because my nightly viewing of LOST is now at an end. I am "moving on", ironically enough.
And now I am headed to bed, so that I can wake up and go to yoga at 6:30am.
"Make a good day."
This morning I paid my bills, including a quick drive over to my landlord's house to drop off my rent check. Paying bills was my loss for the day. While my landlord and his wife were vacationing in Napa, enjoying strolls through the vineyard (perhaps wheelchair escapades) and sipping Cab Sauv, I was begrudgingly slipping my rent check - worth approximately 87.5 hours of packing to-go orders and wiping tables at Zeke's Smokehouse - under their quaint Hollywood Hills' veranda door. Loss.
I then made my way to another test shoot for 365 Hangers, which is the discount designer website I mentioned a few days ago. I must say that the five outfits I modeled today were much more flattering, so keep an eye out for new pictures in about two weeks (www.365hangers.com). Also, if you buy an item I model, I get to keep something like three percent as commission! Three percent may not sound like a lot to you, but money in the piggy bank keeps me eating. Go buy some goodies, and start following the group on facebook. I am doing a test run with the company now. If they like me, and if the things I model online sell, I get to stay on as a permanent model, which would be lovely. :) Even though I'm not being paid at the moment (except gas allowance), working with the group of women that is the driving force behind 365 Hangers is a very fun, very relaxing experience. The owner of the company is very motherly, yet young enough to be hip, and even though this is a start-up, she brings in snacks and lunch for whomever is at the studio each day, and she makes sure to catch up with every girl who walks in the door. The stylist, photographer, and makeup artist are all very charming girls in their twenties. When I walk in the door, I feel like I've just stepped out of Los Angeles, riddled with old sketchball men (not all of the men, but enough), and into a sleepover from my teenage years. We giggle, we do hair and makeup, we take fun pictures, we eat, we look at cute clothes. All that's missing is the cookie dough and the chick flick! I love going to see the 365 team.
Following that shoot, which lasted several hours, I drove to a gym where I will likely be hired as a bikini model, only to find the door locked and nobody home. I called the owner, a renowned personal trainer, who had made a mistake and written down the wrong time. He felt awful about the situation and offered to reimburse me for gas if I could come back sometime later this week. I agreed, and we set up a meeting for Friday afternoon. If all goes well, the shoot will take place this weekend. God willing, I will be able to muster up some sort of a tan by then. The trainer saw my old bikini shots, was horrified by my complexion, and asked if I still had that ridiculous tan line. I sort of told a half-truth.. Sally Hansen spray-on legs, which sounds disgusting, works wonders for creating last-minute tans, as I learned when I performed as Roxie at the Tommy Tune Awards in high school). That being said, I am working on getting at least minimal overall color so I no longer stick out in Hollywood as the walking dead. That movie has already been made.
I then drove home for a short break, which ended up being quite exciting. First, I got an email from Steven "Earth" Metz, who opened Earth's Power Yoga in Los Angeles in 1994, inviting me to teach him for half an hour tomorrow as a sort of test-run to see if I can substitute teach at the studio, in exchange for a yoga membership there. I accepted, of course. However, I am now terrified. Some of the things which have been said about Steven include:
"I started practicing Yoga in Los Angeles with Steven Earth Metz because I heard he was a really great Yoga Teacher, I stayed with him because it is true." -Renee Zellwegger
"I practice and enjoy Steven's classes whenever I am in Los Angeles." -Jewel
"I ask for Steven Earth Metz whenever I am in Los Angeles because he is the best!" -Penelope Cruz
In case you didn't notice, this man, this living legend of the yogic realm, is sought after by everyone in LA - including celebrities - because of how incredible he is at teaching. How I am supposed to prove to him in thirty minutes tomorrow that I am up to snuff, I have not a clue. I will try my best, and hopefully, that will be enough. Instead of putting pressure on myself, I am trying to look at it from this persepctive: how privileged I am to be able to spend a half an hour working alone with such a revered yoga teacher, who is generous enough to let a random stranger who sent him an email lead him in a practice. This is compassion and generosity in motion. Win number one for today.
Another big break came today when I finally, finally managed to get through on the Central Casting non-union women's line! This single act, in and of itself, was nothing short of a miracle. When the phone actually started ringing, my mouth dropped open, and I had to remind myself to speak to keep the casting director on the other end of the call from hanging up on me. Ladies and gentlemen, I have officially booked my first job as an extra! Tomorrow, Wednesday, July 21st, at 7pm, I will be driving my gold 2007 Honda past a church for "Criminal Minds". It is embarrassing how exciting this advancement was to me (I feel my drama teachers cringing), but hey, it's a start. One of my favorite sayings is: "work begets work." Tomorrow, I will test out that theory, as I arrive early to set, multiple costume changes in tow, and business cards flying this way and that. Hurrah. This is most definitely a win!
At 6:30pm, I went to EssensualsLondon, a salon which just opened in Hollywood a few weeks ago, to act as a hair model for one of the senior stylists. Although it took two-and-a-half hours, I walked out of the salon (another major celebrity hangout, due to their very talented stylists) with a gorgeous haircut worth $100 for free. Haircuts at EssensualsLondon, a salon connected to the UK Tony & Guy, can go all the way up to $300 a cut. That's before tip, color, treatments - anything. Just for the cut. Yet the people who worked in the salon were so friendly and welcoming. No one looked at me like an outsider for not carrying a Gucci bag. :) New haircut paired with positive attitudes equals my third win for today.
I made it home around 9:30pm, scarfed down a salad and some squash with goat's cheese, checked emails and the like, and then, both tragically and joyfully, I watched the last episode of LOST. Excuse the pun, but I was personally at a loss as to what to feel or think after the episode ended. Overall, I really enjoyed the series. While season five dragged on for me, season six definitely made up for it. I did not cry during the last episode, but I did get teary-eyed, partially because of the content, and partially because my nightly viewing of LOST is now at an end. I am "moving on", ironically enough.
And now I am headed to bed, so that I can wake up and go to yoga at 6:30am.
"Make a good day."
Monday, July 19, 2010
Broke ..with a Win
There are few things less terrifying than coming home to an empty apartment, looking at the bills that are due, reviewing the contents of your precious yet depleted checking account, and realizing that this week, you will only be making half of what you need to make per week in order to survive out here, alone. Even with yoga this morning, and two days of eating just fruits and veggies, I am very, very stressed.
I finally broke down crying on the phone with my mom, who went on to make a wise suggestion. She said, "even though things may get rough on a daily basis, make a sheet where you can track at least one 'little win' per day." Although small, this single daily act may be a very important step toward retaining my sanity.
About a week ago, I went through IMDBPro and made a list of stunt coordinators from top action films over the last ten years or so. I came up with a list of about twelve people, and I emailed each one of them, explaining that I am an actress with a BFA and a trained stunt women who is looking for work, even as a safety on set or other odd job. What gets me about the stunt family is that at least half of the people responded to my email, many within a day of receiving it. The stunt community is so incredibly down-to-earth and hard-working. That, in and of itself, is a refreshing boost for my stamina, just to get a friendly email with some pointers on my reel or some ideas of people to talk to. My win for today? The second unit stunt coordinator for X-Men emailed me to let me know about training with some stunt performers on Thursdays and Saturdays in Northridge. While Northridge may be a bit of a hike for me, I am going to try to make as many of these trainings (centered around air rams and air bags) as possible. It is a little victory, but it is a victory, nonetheless.
Universal Studios Japan, located in Osaka, is also holding auditions soon for actors, singer/sdancers, and stunt performers. While this is extremely tempting (seeing as I am super poor right now), I am going to wait a year and keep it in the back of my mind. The contract with Universal includes (taken from their website):
• Exciting Assignments, Up To 13 Months In Duration
• All-Expenses-Paid, Round-Trip Travel & Fantastic Pay
• Potential For Quarterly & Contract Completion Bonuses
• Daily Living Allowance & Free, Private Housing
• Furnished Apartment With Kitchenette & Washer/Dryer
• Paid Utilities, Gas and Water & Basic Medical Insurance
• Athletic Club Membership
• Passes to Universal Studios Japan®
• Dining & Retail Discounts
(Universal Studios Japan® & CityWalk)
• Onsite Support Team & Much More
Their Hollywood auditions are in September, so it's definitely an option to keep in mind, should I find myself in the same economically frustrating position next year.
***
A second win for today? After spending an hour on my stationary bike while watching the final season of LOST - which I'm beginning to feel was based on a writer saying, "what if we took the SURVIVOR phenomenon and made it into a series?" - I hopped onto Craigslist at 10:30pm and found a desperate hair stylist looking for a cut model for tomorrow. I emailed him and, wouldn't you know it, I just got myself lined up for a $100 haircut (that's right, $100 just for the cut; a top-tier stylist is $300..) for free. :) As of 6:30pm tomorrow, I will be getting fresh layers at London Essensuals, the same salon where all of the celebrities in Los Angeles go. Someday, when I am a wildly successful and wealthy actress, I may even go back to pay tomorrow's stylist a visit. ;>
I finally broke down crying on the phone with my mom, who went on to make a wise suggestion. She said, "even though things may get rough on a daily basis, make a sheet where you can track at least one 'little win' per day." Although small, this single daily act may be a very important step toward retaining my sanity.
About a week ago, I went through IMDBPro and made a list of stunt coordinators from top action films over the last ten years or so. I came up with a list of about twelve people, and I emailed each one of them, explaining that I am an actress with a BFA and a trained stunt women who is looking for work, even as a safety on set or other odd job. What gets me about the stunt family is that at least half of the people responded to my email, many within a day of receiving it. The stunt community is so incredibly down-to-earth and hard-working. That, in and of itself, is a refreshing boost for my stamina, just to get a friendly email with some pointers on my reel or some ideas of people to talk to. My win for today? The second unit stunt coordinator for X-Men emailed me to let me know about training with some stunt performers on Thursdays and Saturdays in Northridge. While Northridge may be a bit of a hike for me, I am going to try to make as many of these trainings (centered around air rams and air bags) as possible. It is a little victory, but it is a victory, nonetheless.
Universal Studios Japan, located in Osaka, is also holding auditions soon for actors, singer/sdancers, and stunt performers. While this is extremely tempting (seeing as I am super poor right now), I am going to wait a year and keep it in the back of my mind. The contract with Universal includes (taken from their website):
• Exciting Assignments, Up To 13 Months In Duration
• All-Expenses-Paid, Round-Trip Travel & Fantastic Pay
• Potential For Quarterly & Contract Completion Bonuses
• Daily Living Allowance & Free, Private Housing
• Furnished Apartment With Kitchenette & Washer/Dryer
• Paid Utilities, Gas and Water & Basic Medical Insurance
• Athletic Club Membership
• Passes to Universal Studios Japan®
• Dining & Retail Discounts
(Universal Studios Japan® & CityWalk)
• Onsite Support Team & Much More
Their Hollywood auditions are in September, so it's definitely an option to keep in mind, should I find myself in the same economically frustrating position next year.
***
A second win for today? After spending an hour on my stationary bike while watching the final season of LOST - which I'm beginning to feel was based on a writer saying, "what if we took the SURVIVOR phenomenon and made it into a series?" - I hopped onto Craigslist at 10:30pm and found a desperate hair stylist looking for a cut model for tomorrow. I emailed him and, wouldn't you know it, I just got myself lined up for a $100 haircut (that's right, $100 just for the cut; a top-tier stylist is $300..) for free. :) As of 6:30pm tomorrow, I will be getting fresh layers at London Essensuals, the same salon where all of the celebrities in Los Angeles go. Someday, when I am a wildly successful and wealthy actress, I may even go back to pay tomorrow's stylist a visit. ;>
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Day Off
Today was my first official "day off", seeing as Resident Assistants don't really get those. It was a surreal feeling.
I dragged out of bed at 7am, tossed the essentials - yoga mat, water bottle, swimsuit, sunscreen, book, coconut water, and Raw Revolution food bar - into a worn yet steadfast reusable grocery bag, and hopped in the car with The Killers' "Hot Fuss" playing. As I drove to Malibu, I could tell this was going to be the first Saturday morning yoga practice which wasn't overcast. It was gloriously sunny, as a cool breeze whipped through my open car windows and a smile bounced off my rearview mirror.
My yoga practice was very energizing. I was surprised when the instructor, who is also a local music exec and radio host, wandered over to my mat as I was packing up and remarked, "dude, you have an awesome practice!" I took that as my chance to ask for a bit of advice as far as finding a studio to teach at as a noob here, and she suggested a little studio in West Hollywood called Up Dog. :) Maybe by this time next week, I will at least be back to subbing.
Unfortunately, because so many people came out for the sunny practice this morning, there was no free breakfast left by the time I got to the front of the line. This ended up being a delicious predicament, as I remembered a little truck a few miles down the road which had had strawberry and cherry signs displayed along side it. I drove back to the truck and bought a flat of the best strawberries I have ever had, fresh-picked this morning. I definitely ate too many, but those were some magnificent berries! Can you blame a girl?
After devouring my refreshing little breakfast, I grabbed my stuff and headed to the beach, where I sprawled out for a nap and then a brief read. I read the first chapter of Tales of a Shaman's Apprentice: An Ethnobotanist Searches for New Medicines in the Rain Forest. I bought this book about a year ago in a butterfly house of sorts, perhaps at the Saint Louis Zoo (which is an incredible, not to mention free, zoo). Although it was a little wordy to start off, the chapter offered a fascinating introduction into the miraculous Amazon Rain Forest, as well as a much-needed reminder that most of what we as a "civilized" power have, especially in terms of medical advancements, was stolen (yes, stolen, as is sadly true for most cases) from elsewhere. A brief excerpt read:
From the arrival of Christopher Columbus and other early explorers who came to subjugate the natives and plunder their riches, to the modern-day visits of well-intentioned but misguided missionaries who seek to replace the Indians' long-held religious beliefs with the Westerners' God, the indigenous peoples have been on a collision course with the outside world. They have been pressured to forsake the traditions of their forbears and to accept the ways of other, so-called advanced societies.
The medicine men of these forests may wear loin cloths and bear strange piercings, yet they have given our "civilized" society invaluable healing knowledge, providing us with plants used to cure and/or treat malaria (which contain quinine), ovarian cancer, heart problems, diabetes, HIV I and II, and more; scientists estimate that we only know the potential of roughly 2% of the Amazon plant species and the oral tradition which extends their healing capabilities within these tribes. I struggle with people who view these people as barbaric or as pagans. Are we so much better off, really? Our synthetic, billion-dollar pharmaceutical industries and religious zealots might think so, but I disagree. So the next time you overhear someone ranting about the inferiority of "uncivilized" peoples and cultures, tell them to check out this book. They will think twice about what it is they have to be so proud of. (I hope that little rant encouraged people reading this to go check out the book, especially if you disagree with me!)
Okay, rant has subsided. :)
I only got through one chapter of the book because the tide came in, at which point I had to either head home or search endlessly for another (pricey) parking lot in Malibu or Santa Monica. Although I had only been at the beach for an hour and a half, my goal being four hours, in order to develop some semblance of skin color (with sunscreen protection, of course), I decided to head home.
Once I made it home, I showered, washed my dishes, and ate, yet again, zucchini and other random squash from last week's CSA box. Note to self: zucchini pan-seared with olive oil, pepper, and salt, then tossed with tuna and warm goat's cheese, is actually - dare I say it - delicious. So if you need to dress up a boring veggie, there's a new variation to try. Bon Apetit.
After lunch, I started getting a headache and slowly realized that I was quite sunburned. I should point out that, at one point in my life, let's say, before I was sixteen, I tanned quite nicely. However, after living in London, and subsequently Pittsburgh, I am paper-white. It was fine back at CMU, but here in LA, being that pale is straight-up embarrassing, not to mention a major hindrance when trying to book modeling gigs! I am trying to get re-hydrated (water and coconut water), as well as beat this god-awful headache (dark chocolate is supposed to work wonders? no complaints there!). I am also halfway through the final season of LOST, but feeling my heart pounding in my ears makes focusing slightly difficult. However, I shall press on valiantly, in pursuit of the truth behind the mysterious crash of Oceanic flight 815. Good lord.
I am also starting up a written wish-list of the things I want but can't afford right now. Someday, little by little, I will acquire the following:
*new digital camera (broke mine back in April, and feel totally lost - haha - without one ;>)
*new black heels (my only pair looks like I walk the streets of WeHo each night)
*a tent, some backpacks, and some sleeping bags for camping!
*a new pair of running shoes (mine have no support left in them and haven't for a while. Although they are expensive, I would like to get a pair of Newton's running shoes, as I have heard very positive feedback.)
*membership to a local gym (I am so bored of working out at home)
*membership to a local yoga studio (a teaching position would also be welcomed)
*a bicycle
*a puppy (once I pay off my car, which will take at least the next six years of my life, ugh)
And with that, my headache wins, and I am heading to a very early bed. Goodnight, moon. <3
I dragged out of bed at 7am, tossed the essentials - yoga mat, water bottle, swimsuit, sunscreen, book, coconut water, and Raw Revolution food bar - into a worn yet steadfast reusable grocery bag, and hopped in the car with The Killers' "Hot Fuss" playing. As I drove to Malibu, I could tell this was going to be the first Saturday morning yoga practice which wasn't overcast. It was gloriously sunny, as a cool breeze whipped through my open car windows and a smile bounced off my rearview mirror.
My yoga practice was very energizing. I was surprised when the instructor, who is also a local music exec and radio host, wandered over to my mat as I was packing up and remarked, "dude, you have an awesome practice!" I took that as my chance to ask for a bit of advice as far as finding a studio to teach at as a noob here, and she suggested a little studio in West Hollywood called Up Dog. :) Maybe by this time next week, I will at least be back to subbing.
Unfortunately, because so many people came out for the sunny practice this morning, there was no free breakfast left by the time I got to the front of the line. This ended up being a delicious predicament, as I remembered a little truck a few miles down the road which had had strawberry and cherry signs displayed along side it. I drove back to the truck and bought a flat of the best strawberries I have ever had, fresh-picked this morning. I definitely ate too many, but those were some magnificent berries! Can you blame a girl?
After devouring my refreshing little breakfast, I grabbed my stuff and headed to the beach, where I sprawled out for a nap and then a brief read. I read the first chapter of Tales of a Shaman's Apprentice: An Ethnobotanist Searches for New Medicines in the Rain Forest. I bought this book about a year ago in a butterfly house of sorts, perhaps at the Saint Louis Zoo (which is an incredible, not to mention free, zoo). Although it was a little wordy to start off, the chapter offered a fascinating introduction into the miraculous Amazon Rain Forest, as well as a much-needed reminder that most of what we as a "civilized" power have, especially in terms of medical advancements, was stolen (yes, stolen, as is sadly true for most cases) from elsewhere. A brief excerpt read:
From the arrival of Christopher Columbus and other early explorers who came to subjugate the natives and plunder their riches, to the modern-day visits of well-intentioned but misguided missionaries who seek to replace the Indians' long-held religious beliefs with the Westerners' God, the indigenous peoples have been on a collision course with the outside world. They have been pressured to forsake the traditions of their forbears and to accept the ways of other, so-called advanced societies.
The medicine men of these forests may wear loin cloths and bear strange piercings, yet they have given our "civilized" society invaluable healing knowledge, providing us with plants used to cure and/or treat malaria (which contain quinine), ovarian cancer, heart problems, diabetes, HIV I and II, and more; scientists estimate that we only know the potential of roughly 2% of the Amazon plant species and the oral tradition which extends their healing capabilities within these tribes. I struggle with people who view these people as barbaric or as pagans. Are we so much better off, really? Our synthetic, billion-dollar pharmaceutical industries and religious zealots might think so, but I disagree. So the next time you overhear someone ranting about the inferiority of "uncivilized" peoples and cultures, tell them to check out this book. They will think twice about what it is they have to be so proud of. (I hope that little rant encouraged people reading this to go check out the book, especially if you disagree with me!)
Okay, rant has subsided. :)
I only got through one chapter of the book because the tide came in, at which point I had to either head home or search endlessly for another (pricey) parking lot in Malibu or Santa Monica. Although I had only been at the beach for an hour and a half, my goal being four hours, in order to develop some semblance of skin color (with sunscreen protection, of course), I decided to head home.
Once I made it home, I showered, washed my dishes, and ate, yet again, zucchini and other random squash from last week's CSA box. Note to self: zucchini pan-seared with olive oil, pepper, and salt, then tossed with tuna and warm goat's cheese, is actually - dare I say it - delicious. So if you need to dress up a boring veggie, there's a new variation to try. Bon Apetit.
After lunch, I started getting a headache and slowly realized that I was quite sunburned. I should point out that, at one point in my life, let's say, before I was sixteen, I tanned quite nicely. However, after living in London, and subsequently Pittsburgh, I am paper-white. It was fine back at CMU, but here in LA, being that pale is straight-up embarrassing, not to mention a major hindrance when trying to book modeling gigs! I am trying to get re-hydrated (water and coconut water), as well as beat this god-awful headache (dark chocolate is supposed to work wonders? no complaints there!). I am also halfway through the final season of LOST, but feeling my heart pounding in my ears makes focusing slightly difficult. However, I shall press on valiantly, in pursuit of the truth behind the mysterious crash of Oceanic flight 815. Good lord.
I am also starting up a written wish-list of the things I want but can't afford right now. Someday, little by little, I will acquire the following:
*new digital camera (broke mine back in April, and feel totally lost - haha - without one ;>)
*new black heels (my only pair looks like I walk the streets of WeHo each night)
*a tent, some backpacks, and some sleeping bags for camping!
*a new pair of running shoes (mine have no support left in them and haven't for a while. Although they are expensive, I would like to get a pair of Newton's running shoes, as I have heard very positive feedback.)
*membership to a local gym (I am so bored of working out at home)
*membership to a local yoga studio (a teaching position would also be welcomed)
*a bicycle
*a puppy (once I pay off my car, which will take at least the next six years of my life, ugh)
And with that, my headache wins, and I am heading to a very early bed. Goodnight, moon. <3
Friday, July 16, 2010
Broke and Modeling? Yeah, okay.
There's a little saying which I use often and which describes, to a T, the mentality of Los Angeles; FAKE IT 'TIL YOU MAKE IT.As you can see in the attached images from my photoshoot this morning, combined with the fact that I have had zucchini as a meal four times within the last forty-eight hours, this is precisely the strategy I am utilizing for my preemptive strike on the industry. They'll never know what hit 'em.
So here I find myself, past midnight, stretched out along my bed with a strong need for sleep but a strong will for doing. A very wealthy investment banker and financial planner whom I work for on occasion out here, cleaning or babysitting or what-have-you, told me something wise about my constant need to be active. He told me, "I am a human being, not a human doing. Remember that." I thought that was excellent advice. Yet even when I try sitting still for a few seconds, my mind races and ponders and debates and theorizes, until I find myself, once again, exhausted at 3am. Seeing as I am going 
to yoga on the Malibu pier at 7:30am, I will offer up a truce of 1:30am tonight.Yesterday morning, I woke up to my phone ringing at 6:58am. Very much under the impression that this was a wrong number, I let the call go to voicemail and then dialed my mailbox. It was a British woman from Lifetime Fitness whom I had left a message with on the previous day regarding open positions for teaching yoga.
Dear Lifetime Fitness, I would like to humbly offer a public service announcement to you: you do not return business calls at 6:58am. Let's get real.
I do not care if you get up and run five miles at 4am and make your Magic Bullet smoothie and feel real dapper by the time the sun comes 
creeping out of the mountains. I will find you and add weight-gain powder to your breakfast if this happens again. Okay, so this may not be a very "yoga" attitude.. let's just say I'm a big believer in karma?
I called the woman back today, and it ends up that the clubs in my area have plenty of yoga teachers for the time being. I am finding that there are more than enough qualified (albeit largely unemployed)
yoga teachers in the city of Los Angeles. I miss teaching greatly, and because I cannot afford classes right now, I am feeling slightly lost without a steady practice to ground myself in. After being frustrated with the situation for the past week, I printed out a pass for "one week of yoga for $1" at Yogaworks. I will start using my pass on Sunday.For the next week, I will be practicing yoga daily for 2-3 hours, as a sort of teacher training retreat for myself. During my teacher training in 2008, as much as the
three-day weekend trainings left me feeling exhausted, broken, and sore, they also left me so full of electric energy, hopefulness, and strength that I couldn't wait for the next one. We learn the most by being exposed to discomfort - physically, mentally, and spiritually - and having to sit with those emotions. As such, I 
am going back to my mat to face myself, and to rejuvenate my entire being. I will also be eating strictly fruits and vegetables for the week (a detox every once in a while lets the digestive system take a breather and replenish itself to work better for you). Here goes nothing.So yes, on the one side, I will continue to "fake it". I will scour Craigslist for talented photographers who need free models, and I will get up at 5:30am to get ready for the unpayed photoshoot in
Beverly Hills, so that I can continue adding photos to my portfolio. I will take the time to workout and to primp for interviews for smokehouses, so that I can pay rent. I will wear the cute clothes and spend a few hours a week trying to get a little sun, so that I can be a marketable actress in this big, surprisingly lonely city, where the beautiful bodies and the golden beaches seem to underline the deafening solitude. But on the other side, I will not settle for faking. I will come as I am, devoid of makeup and glossy headshots and peachy-keen-jellybean thumbs ups, afraid and uncertain and shaky. I will come to my mat, to face and to find myself as a human being, to center my compass once again.
And with that, it is 1:30am. To quote Robert Bolt's highly inspiring A Man for All Seasons, "Dear Lord, give us rest tonight, or if we must be wakeful, cheerful."
Adieu.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Summer Goals
As many of you know, the reason I headed out to LA early in the summer was to get settled into this new city before auditions for episodics started up again in the fall (late August/September time frame). I am hopeful that the reason auditions seem so slow right now is that pilots wrapped casting in April, and this is just the lag time, when casting people and directors and producers skip off to Hawaii or the Bahamas for a few weeks. In the meantime, my goals for this summer originally included:*find an agent and a manager (No check on the agent, check on the manager.)
*find a steady job (Check. Starting off as a cashier/server, then moving up to waitress, then bartending once Zeke's installs a bar and some flat screens this fall.)
*find a place to teach yoga (No check, but still working on it. Yoga is very much booming out here, and I am looking into teaching weekly beach classes by donation for $8, which is much better than the average $15-25 classes in the area.)
*get into tip-top shape and dropping a pant size (Semi-check. I have been exercising daily and eating raw for several weeks now. Starting to see results and trying to be patient on the pant size. ;>)
*catch up on major tv shows and films from the last several years (Semi-check. I am wrapping up the last season of 'LOST', and then planning on watching:
(ABC:)
1. "V" (loved the first season and will be watching when it returns this fall)
2. "PRETTY LITTLE LIARS" (starring our very own Ian Harding!)
(AMC:)
3. "BREAKING BAD"
4. "MAD MEN" (made it through most of the first two seasons this spring)
(CBS:)
5. "THE BIG BANG THEORY"
6. "HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER"
(FOX:)
7. "24" (watched the first three episodes and am bored out of my mind.. the plot is not interesting to me, and the acting is bad.. I will try to keep watching?)
8. "ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT" (watched the first episode, thought it was okay, nothing amazing)
(HBO:)
9. "CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM"
10. "TRUE BLOOD" (watched the first three episodes - how can you not like a show set on the bayou?)
11. "THE WIRE"
12. "ENTOURAGE"
(NBC)
13. "30 ROCK"
14. "CHUCK" (I've been told I could play Sarah. Hurray for stunts and acting together!)
15. "COMMUNITY"
16. "FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS" (starring our own Gaius Charles!)
(SHOWTIME:)
17. "DEXTER" (watched the first episode.. bizarre..)
18. "WEEDS" (through season three, LOVE LOVE LOVE this show!)
I need movie suggestions - and have seen hardly any during the last four years at CMU - so suggestions are very much welcomed and appreciated!
*find a modeling agent for print and fit work (Semi-check. Was not an original goal, but modeling out here seems to be paying my bills more than acting gigs at the moment, and hey, I'll take what I can get!)
*become a member of AFTRA and potentially SAG (Semi-check. I have a loan from my very helpful parents to pay the joining fees and annual dues for AFTRA, just waiting for a check to get through to me from a modeling gig so that I have something in the bank!)
*get to know the general LA area (Semi-check. I am getting more familiar with places, including Hollywood, West Hollywood, Santa Monica, Malibu, Venice Beach, Hermosa Beach, Manhattan Beach, Burbank, Studio City, UCLA, USC..? That sounds like a lot. A success!)
So, all in all, I suppose the summer is going alright.
Also, should you find yourself in need of a laugh, visit www.365hangers.com, enter the site, and scroll down to the "medium" section to find a very awkward test shot from a few weeks ago. I'm going in for a second (less rushed, less "maternity/flowing tops", less "gold", and hopefully more flattering?) shoot next week. ;>
Being a Grown-up Sucks
After living in Los Angeles for nearly two months, I finally broke down today and caved in.
I bought a trashcan and an iron.
I was attempting to offset these purchases for as long as possible, due to the fact that I am just scraping by in terms of money out here. But since I have a job that requires me to wear black button downs, I decided that an iron made more sense than buying lots and lots of black shirts.
I purchased the trashcan because it was a full-out war between me and the fruit flies. I hate fruit flies more than almost anything. They make me feel like my skin is crawling, and they breed insanely quickly. I have nightmares about the Pre-College summer when I sat on my dorm room floor, trying to make ten loaves of banana bread with bananas that had been left over from an event. I stirred ferociously, covered in flour, in 90-degree heat, with fruit flies swarming around my room. That is pretty close to my idea of hell.
Anyways. So, I marched over to Target tonight and bought those two essential items (I also bought trash bags for said garbage can, gummy vitamins, blister band-aids for my post-promotion feet, an air freshener, a black t-shirt bra, and a simple black shirt without a collar, because I'm feeling rebellious). While my bank account is frustrating and depressing, life will go on.
Today was my third day of training at Zeke's smokehouse, which is going well. I am exhausted at the end of every shift, but I am learning quickly and haven't sabotaged my chances at staying there yet. My mom pointed out to me that the unemployment rate in California is currently around 12.3%. The restaurant was hesitant to hire me, but I desperately waved my college degree in their faces, said I would be willing to do anything (give me a mop, brother!), and told them I could bartend (as luck would have it, if they make it through the next few months, the restaurant wants to put in a bar. Hallelujah). Working for $8 an hour right now may be lousy, but it's a certain type of secure-lousy, so I'll take it.
Life as a struggling artist/ adult is becoming monotonous. I get up, go to work, run some errands, drop headshots and resumes off at the post office, come home, scarf down a salad while I check my email and apply to random Craigslist jobs, return phone calls, call (and subsequently curse) Central Casting (in hopes of getting my SAG card through extra work), fall asleep (because I couldn't sleep the night before), wake up, work out for an hour or so, shower, eat dinner, do dishes, check email and CL one more time, submit myself for roles on Actors Access, look up what's filming in LA on IMDBpro, try to watch an episode of one of the 25 or so shows I'm trying to watch this summer, and try to sleep (read: stare at the ceiling). Sometimes, my day is made less monotonous by a phone call, or perhaps by getting snail mail (a good day) or even better, a package (an incredible day). But most days - like today - I just wind up feeling frustrated that my manager hasn't sent me out on any auditions yet, and wondering when I'll have a chance to act and to do what I love again. After spending four years of hell and enough money to live here for several years on a college degree, I want my turn to say, "allright world, listen up!"
Cross your fingers, say a prayer to your higher power, wish some good chi or karma my way. I want to go!
I bought a trashcan and an iron.
I was attempting to offset these purchases for as long as possible, due to the fact that I am just scraping by in terms of money out here. But since I have a job that requires me to wear black button downs, I decided that an iron made more sense than buying lots and lots of black shirts.
I purchased the trashcan because it was a full-out war between me and the fruit flies. I hate fruit flies more than almost anything. They make me feel like my skin is crawling, and they breed insanely quickly. I have nightmares about the Pre-College summer when I sat on my dorm room floor, trying to make ten loaves of banana bread with bananas that had been left over from an event. I stirred ferociously, covered in flour, in 90-degree heat, with fruit flies swarming around my room. That is pretty close to my idea of hell.
Anyways. So, I marched over to Target tonight and bought those two essential items (I also bought trash bags for said garbage can, gummy vitamins, blister band-aids for my post-promotion feet, an air freshener, a black t-shirt bra, and a simple black shirt without a collar, because I'm feeling rebellious). While my bank account is frustrating and depressing, life will go on.
Today was my third day of training at Zeke's smokehouse, which is going well. I am exhausted at the end of every shift, but I am learning quickly and haven't sabotaged my chances at staying there yet. My mom pointed out to me that the unemployment rate in California is currently around 12.3%. The restaurant was hesitant to hire me, but I desperately waved my college degree in their faces, said I would be willing to do anything (give me a mop, brother!), and told them I could bartend (as luck would have it, if they make it through the next few months, the restaurant wants to put in a bar. Hallelujah). Working for $8 an hour right now may be lousy, but it's a certain type of secure-lousy, so I'll take it.
Life as a struggling artist/ adult is becoming monotonous. I get up, go to work, run some errands, drop headshots and resumes off at the post office, come home, scarf down a salad while I check my email and apply to random Craigslist jobs, return phone calls, call (and subsequently curse) Central Casting (in hopes of getting my SAG card through extra work), fall asleep (because I couldn't sleep the night before), wake up, work out for an hour or so, shower, eat dinner, do dishes, check email and CL one more time, submit myself for roles on Actors Access, look up what's filming in LA on IMDBpro, try to watch an episode of one of the 25 or so shows I'm trying to watch this summer, and try to sleep (read: stare at the ceiling). Sometimes, my day is made less monotonous by a phone call, or perhaps by getting snail mail (a good day) or even better, a package (an incredible day). But most days - like today - I just wind up feeling frustrated that my manager hasn't sent me out on any auditions yet, and wondering when I'll have a chance to act and to do what I love again. After spending four years of hell and enough money to live here for several years on a college degree, I want my turn to say, "allright world, listen up!"
Cross your fingers, say a prayer to your higher power, wish some good chi or karma my way. I want to go!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Cleaning House, Part III: Where Your Food Comes From
As I have started focusing more on what I put into my body, I have also started focusing on where my food comes from and how it is grown or raised. Think of this as the little ripple-effect; focusing on how food affects me as an individual motivated me to focus on how food affects my community.
There are now just two simple rules I try to live by when purchasing food, if I can afford to, which I try to make a priority over things like new shoes and movie tickets (as much as I love both of those). These priorities are simply: buy locally, and buy organic. My reasoning? Check out this excerpt:
1. Locally grown food tastes better. Food grown in your own community is usually picked within the past day or two. The average distance food travels from farm to plate is 1,500 miles, but not local food.
2. Local produce is better for you. Locally grown food, purchased soon after harvest, retains its nutrients better than food which has aged.
3. Local food preserves genetic diversity. Local farms grow a huge number of varieties to provide a long season of harvest, an array of eye-catching colors, and the best flavors. Many varieties are heirlooms, passed down from generation to generation, because they taste good. These old varieties contain genetic material from hundreds or even thousands of years of human selection; they may someday provide the genes needed to create varieties that will thrive in a changing climate.
This past week, I pre-ordered my first box of produce from the South Central Farmer's Cooperative, which is based in Bakersfield, California. I showed up at the West Hollywood farmer's market on Sunday morning and paid only $15 for a large box of fresh-from-the-farm vegetables, including squash, cucumbers, zucchini, cherry tomatoes, carrots, beets, kale, and more. That box helped me and my brother create a delicious salad that afternoon, and the produce will last me through the week. :) Helping yourself by helping your community is a wonderful thing.
If you would like to subscribe to a local CSA in your area, visit: http://www.localharvest.org/csa/ to do a zip code search. I know for a fact there are several in Sugarland, in Austin, and in Pittsburgh.
I also try to eat organic when possible. Yes, it can be more expensive, but it doesn't have to be. I am all for getting pesticides and hormones further away from my produce and from my meat.
In short, this is part one of how I am attempting to clean house through my diet: I am eating mostly raw, and I am eating mostly local. It takes me a bit more time, but I feel happier, healthier, and like I am making a little difference in my community, simply by the ways in which I eat. Warm fuzzies all around.
There are now just two simple rules I try to live by when purchasing food, if I can afford to, which I try to make a priority over things like new shoes and movie tickets (as much as I love both of those). These priorities are simply: buy locally, and buy organic. My reasoning? Check out this excerpt:
1. Locally grown food tastes better. Food grown in your own community is usually picked within the past day or two. The average distance food travels from farm to plate is 1,500 miles, but not local food.
2. Local produce is better for you. Locally grown food, purchased soon after harvest, retains its nutrients better than food which has aged.
3. Local food preserves genetic diversity. Local farms grow a huge number of varieties to provide a long season of harvest, an array of eye-catching colors, and the best flavors. Many varieties are heirlooms, passed down from generation to generation, because they taste good. These old varieties contain genetic material from hundreds or even thousands of years of human selection; they may someday provide the genes needed to create varieties that will thrive in a changing climate.
4. Local food is GMO-free. Local farmers don't have access to genetically modified seed, and most of them wouldn't use it even if they could.
5. Local food supports local farm families. With fewer than 1 million Americans now listing farming as their primary occupation, farmers are a vanishing breed. Local farmers who sell direct to consumers cut out the middle man and get full retail price for their crops.
6. Local food builds a stronger community. Local food builds community. When you buy direct from the farmer, you are re-establishing a time-honored connection between the eater and the grower.
7. Local food preserves open space. When you buy locally grown food, you are doing something proactive about preserving the agricultural landscape.
8. Local food helps to keep your taxes in check. Farms contribute more in taxes than they require in services, whereas suburban development costs more than it generates in taxes, according to several studies.
9. Local food supports a clean environment and benefits wildlife. A well-managed family farm is a place where the resources of fertile soil and clean water are valued. Good stewards of the land grow cover crops to prevent erosion and replace nutrients used by their crops. Cover crops also capture carbon emissions and help combat global warming.
10. Local food is about the future. By supporting local farmers today, you help ensure that there will be farms in your community tomorrow so that future generations will have access to nourishing, flavorful, and abundant food.
Buying local is much easier than most people realize. Stores like Whole Foods offer local produce, and that's one way. I prefer subscribing to a CSA organization (Community Supported Agriculture). I pay a weekly rate (usually $15-40) to get a fresh box of the freshest produce in season each week. I get a variety of very well-priced, organic fruits and veggies, I learn fun new recipes, and I eat seasonally, which means that what I eat is what's best to eat at a given time of year. Many CSAs also offer items such as eggs, natural meats, jams and jellies, breads, and more.This past week, I pre-ordered my first box of produce from the South Central Farmer's Cooperative, which is based in Bakersfield, California. I showed up at the West Hollywood farmer's market on Sunday morning and paid only $15 for a large box of fresh-from-the-farm vegetables, including squash, cucumbers, zucchini, cherry tomatoes, carrots, beets, kale, and more. That box helped me and my brother create a delicious salad that afternoon, and the produce will last me through the week. :) Helping yourself by helping your community is a wonderful thing.
If you would like to subscribe to a local CSA in your area, visit: http://www.localharvest.org/csa/ to do a zip code search. I know for a fact there are several in Sugarland, in Austin, and in Pittsburgh.
I also try to eat organic when possible. Yes, it can be more expensive, but it doesn't have to be. I am all for getting pesticides and hormones further away from my produce and from my meat.
In short, this is part one of how I am attempting to clean house through my diet: I am eating mostly raw, and I am eating mostly local. It takes me a bit more time, but I feel happier, healthier, and like I am making a little difference in my community, simply by the ways in which I eat. Warm fuzzies all around.
Cleaning House, Part II: The Raw Food Rant!
As I mentioned in my last post, I am a big believer in cleaning house. Spring cleaning is incredibly beneficial for your home and, guess what? Spring cleaning is also incredibly beneficial for you as a human being. For me, I like a little daily "spring clean". Let me explain.
I struggled with ridiculously poor health, eating problems, anxiety, and troublesome teenage skin for several years. I think most people experience all of these in some capacity (with the exception of poor health, which I hope most of the planet is not cursed with!). This is the part where I insert cheesy midi-file music, and the screen suddenly goes from grayscale to technicolor, and I reveal the new and incredible, must-have, tv infomercial product (yours for only $19.99 AND, if you order now, I'll throw in some worthless item - absolutely FREE!). Drumroll please... Spring cleaning, for me, consists of mindful eating, exercise, and awareness. I have found, and continue to discover, that those three simple (yet not easy) aspects of my livelihood make me a saner and happier person. So yes, this is a bit of a pitch for health and wellness. But hey, advice is free.
Mindful Eating. I am currently on a quest to once again become a "raw foodist". No, this is not a cult, although some who adhere to the raw way of living definitely treat it as such. Being "raw" means consuming food which, for the most part, has not been cooked above around 110F. Now, some purists claim that raw eliminates all dairy and all meats. Call me crazy, but if you were raised in Texas and are now a vegetarian, your parents never took you to a good BBQ joint (I suggest 'The Swingin' Door' in Richmond, which has always been a staple for my family). I understand and admire vegetarians, but I am not one. I like chicken, I like fish, and I like occasional red meat, occasional being the key word. Most Americans do not realize that you should limit red meat consumption to two times per week. I was reading an article over the weekend about being veggie, and one of the FAQs was, "But if I'm a vegetarian, could I get sick from a lack of protein?" The answer went along the lines of: No. Have you ever heard of someone dying from a lack of protein? Nada. Yet people die from over-consumption of animal products and from an overload of trans-fats, found in animal meat, all the time. So, eat your lean brisket and your jalapeno burgers, but eat them in moderation. Everything in moderation is the key to balance.
Back to raw philosophy. Raw foodists:
1. Eat predominantly (but not exclusively, unless super strict) uncooked foods (tons of fresh fruit and vegetables, or dehydrated and unsulphured fruits). The ideology here is that the enzymes and natural health benefits of many foods are stripped away once they are heated beyond a point (110F).
2. Eat foods in certain combinations. I know this sounds absurd and like way too much work, but it helps your gastrointestinal and digestive system like you would not believe. The biggest one? Don't eat fruit with anything else, period. This is especially hard for me when it comes to salads - who doesn't like a chicken salad with cranberries and mandarin oranges tossed in? But fruit needs to be digested alone, so eat it at least 30 minutes before a meal or at least 3 hours after a meal. Trust me, you will feel the difference. If you've ever wondered why your diet doesn't get rid of your puffy tum, try this one on for size.
3. Eliminate foods which have been processed or contain additives or sugars or artificial sweeteners - all the really bad stuff. You would not grab a bottle of kitchen cleaner and gulp it down. This is common sense for most people, thanks to Mister Yuck (whom I labeled everything with as I child because I was, and still am, obsessed with stickers). So why do most people - many of whom have college degrees - not think twice about downing food that is packed with chemicals? There is a great raw saying that "waste = weight". Even though things like diet food are marketed to be healthier for you (don't be fooled by items like frozen yogurt and diet coke), your body doesn't recognize their chemical compositions and doesn't know how to process these foods, so they literally just sit and rot inside your system, making you feel ill, fatigued, tired, etcetera.
4. Eliminate soy and dairy. Soy and dairy are other over-hyped products in our society. Yes, you need calcium, but your body gets that in other forms. Many people think soy is a great substitute for milk, but it actually creates more mucus than most foods and "clogs" your system. Soy was originally praised, because people saw skinny, beautiful Asians using it, and assumed it was the key to longevity and good looks, but Asians eat things like edamame, and in small portions; they don't chug soy milk and tofu. Do yourself a favor and switch to almond milk, or coconut water, both of which are very good for you. As far as cheese goes, although it can be hard if you love cheese - as I do - try to either phase it out gradually, or switch to goat cheese, which is what I did. It's an acquired taste, but I quite like it now.
Those are the basic principles of being raw. When I first read about them, I assumed people who ate that way were insane and had far too much time on their hands. Yes, making your own food, and making it well, takes longer and requires a bit more planning ahead. However, as someone who is on the go from dawn until the wee hours of the morning, I have been able to make time. A simple shift in priorities and a big shift in mentality can go a long way.
Before I got serious about thinking about what I put into my body (about a year ago), I got sick, on average, once or twice a month. I had pneumonia at an early age, which wiped out my immune system, so I grew up for twenty-one years being sick around half the time. That's absurd - 10.5 years of my life! I had mono for four months. I had to get exemptions from the school board in grade school so they would let me move to the next grade. I was on antibiotics all the time. Now, after having eaten mindfully for the past year and going off of almost all prescription meds, I have been sick once in the past year. Going from being sick every few weeks to once in a year is enough proof for me that you truly are what you eat. Not only was not being sick all the time incredible, but my skin got better (raw foodists are often recognized by their glowing complexions and healthy eyes), weight managed itself naturally (without yo-yo dieting or diet pills), and I had more energy than I had ever had in my life.
Trying to be raw in LA is difficult, because unfortunately, there are no financial incentives in America for eating healthily. It's sad but true that low-income families need health coverage, but when all you can afford to put on the table for your family is rice, or microwave dinners, or $5.99 buckets of fried chicken, of course there will be health consequences. Eating produce, or lean, organic meats, or wild-caught fish, is expensive, I admit this. I often got annoyed in college when I would spend $80 on a week's worth of healthy groceries, and my boyfriend would spend $30 on his sausages and chili and hot dogs. However, I see eating well as an investment in myself. The money I spend to buy better fuel for my body and mind is money I am saving now and for years to come on medical costs, not to mention pain and unknown ailments. If you're going to invest in anything, invest in yourself.
With this shift in mindfulness of what I eat came a shift in terms of where my food comes from. But that's another post. ;>
I struggled with ridiculously poor health, eating problems, anxiety, and troublesome teenage skin for several years. I think most people experience all of these in some capacity (with the exception of poor health, which I hope most of the planet is not cursed with!). This is the part where I insert cheesy midi-file music, and the screen suddenly goes from grayscale to technicolor, and I reveal the new and incredible, must-have, tv infomercial product (yours for only $19.99 AND, if you order now, I'll throw in some worthless item - absolutely FREE!). Drumroll please... Spring cleaning, for me, consists of mindful eating, exercise, and awareness. I have found, and continue to discover, that those three simple (yet not easy) aspects of my livelihood make me a saner and happier person. So yes, this is a bit of a pitch for health and wellness. But hey, advice is free.
Mindful Eating. I am currently on a quest to once again become a "raw foodist". No, this is not a cult, although some who adhere to the raw way of living definitely treat it as such. Being "raw" means consuming food which, for the most part, has not been cooked above around 110F. Now, some purists claim that raw eliminates all dairy and all meats. Call me crazy, but if you were raised in Texas and are now a vegetarian, your parents never took you to a good BBQ joint (I suggest 'The Swingin' Door' in Richmond, which has always been a staple for my family). I understand and admire vegetarians, but I am not one. I like chicken, I like fish, and I like occasional red meat, occasional being the key word. Most Americans do not realize that you should limit red meat consumption to two times per week. I was reading an article over the weekend about being veggie, and one of the FAQs was, "But if I'm a vegetarian, could I get sick from a lack of protein?" The answer went along the lines of: No. Have you ever heard of someone dying from a lack of protein? Nada. Yet people die from over-consumption of animal products and from an overload of trans-fats, found in animal meat, all the time. So, eat your lean brisket and your jalapeno burgers, but eat them in moderation. Everything in moderation is the key to balance.
Back to raw philosophy. Raw foodists:
1. Eat predominantly (but not exclusively, unless super strict) uncooked foods (tons of fresh fruit and vegetables, or dehydrated and unsulphured fruits). The ideology here is that the enzymes and natural health benefits of many foods are stripped away once they are heated beyond a point (110F).
2. Eat foods in certain combinations. I know this sounds absurd and like way too much work, but it helps your gastrointestinal and digestive system like you would not believe. The biggest one? Don't eat fruit with anything else, period. This is especially hard for me when it comes to salads - who doesn't like a chicken salad with cranberries and mandarin oranges tossed in? But fruit needs to be digested alone, so eat it at least 30 minutes before a meal or at least 3 hours after a meal. Trust me, you will feel the difference. If you've ever wondered why your diet doesn't get rid of your puffy tum, try this one on for size.
3. Eliminate foods which have been processed or contain additives or sugars or artificial sweeteners - all the really bad stuff. You would not grab a bottle of kitchen cleaner and gulp it down. This is common sense for most people, thanks to Mister Yuck (whom I labeled everything with as I child because I was, and still am, obsessed with stickers). So why do most people - many of whom have college degrees - not think twice about downing food that is packed with chemicals? There is a great raw saying that "waste = weight". Even though things like diet food are marketed to be healthier for you (don't be fooled by items like frozen yogurt and diet coke), your body doesn't recognize their chemical compositions and doesn't know how to process these foods, so they literally just sit and rot inside your system, making you feel ill, fatigued, tired, etcetera.
4. Eliminate soy and dairy. Soy and dairy are other over-hyped products in our society. Yes, you need calcium, but your body gets that in other forms. Many people think soy is a great substitute for milk, but it actually creates more mucus than most foods and "clogs" your system. Soy was originally praised, because people saw skinny, beautiful Asians using it, and assumed it was the key to longevity and good looks, but Asians eat things like edamame, and in small portions; they don't chug soy milk and tofu. Do yourself a favor and switch to almond milk, or coconut water, both of which are very good for you. As far as cheese goes, although it can be hard if you love cheese - as I do - try to either phase it out gradually, or switch to goat cheese, which is what I did. It's an acquired taste, but I quite like it now.
Those are the basic principles of being raw. When I first read about them, I assumed people who ate that way were insane and had far too much time on their hands. Yes, making your own food, and making it well, takes longer and requires a bit more planning ahead. However, as someone who is on the go from dawn until the wee hours of the morning, I have been able to make time. A simple shift in priorities and a big shift in mentality can go a long way.
Before I got serious about thinking about what I put into my body (about a year ago), I got sick, on average, once or twice a month. I had pneumonia at an early age, which wiped out my immune system, so I grew up for twenty-one years being sick around half the time. That's absurd - 10.5 years of my life! I had mono for four months. I had to get exemptions from the school board in grade school so they would let me move to the next grade. I was on antibiotics all the time. Now, after having eaten mindfully for the past year and going off of almost all prescription meds, I have been sick once in the past year. Going from being sick every few weeks to once in a year is enough proof for me that you truly are what you eat. Not only was not being sick all the time incredible, but my skin got better (raw foodists are often recognized by their glowing complexions and healthy eyes), weight managed itself naturally (without yo-yo dieting or diet pills), and I had more energy than I had ever had in my life.
Trying to be raw in LA is difficult, because unfortunately, there are no financial incentives in America for eating healthily. It's sad but true that low-income families need health coverage, but when all you can afford to put on the table for your family is rice, or microwave dinners, or $5.99 buckets of fried chicken, of course there will be health consequences. Eating produce, or lean, organic meats, or wild-caught fish, is expensive, I admit this. I often got annoyed in college when I would spend $80 on a week's worth of healthy groceries, and my boyfriend would spend $30 on his sausages and chili and hot dogs. However, I see eating well as an investment in myself. The money I spend to buy better fuel for my body and mind is money I am saving now and for years to come on medical costs, not to mention pain and unknown ailments. If you're going to invest in anything, invest in yourself.
With this shift in mindfulness of what I eat came a shift in terms of where my food comes from. But that's another post. ;>
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Cleaning House: Part I
Behind my apartment, there is a one-bedroom second story apartment, and below that are four little garages. These garages, originally parking when this row of homes was used as housing for Warner Brothers working-class folk back in the 1920s, are now rented out as storage units by my money-savvy landlord. One of these units is rented by a man named Lyn Etcetera. Lyn Etcetera was once named something-or-other Wordsworth, yet he had his name changed a while ago because he didn't like it. Lyn is a man in his early fourties with brown, thinning hair, a shrewish face, and a constant look of befuddlement. Lyn and I do not talk very often, but he comes and parks his old car and opens up his little storage garage every Saturday (and some Sundays) and just sits, staring into the chaos he has crammed in with the moths and the cobwebs and the lizards over the last decade. His space is filled with artwork, with half-painted chandeliers, with heavy blankets, odd pieces of unfinished furniture; little things which Lyn tries to sell at the local Sunday morning flea market. When Lyn is here for four to five hours at a time, he just sits in a beat-up lawn chair and peers into his storage unit, confused and pensive and seeming to wonder, "how did all of this end up here? How did I end up here?"
Lyn has forgotten something very important: cleaning house.
I thoroughly enjoy cleaning. Call me crazy, but every Saturday morning, after I practice yoga and nibble on some fruit at the Malibu pier, I come home and relax by scrubbing my bathroom, washing my dishes, sweeping my wooden floor, and doing my laundry, if there's enough to merit a trip to the laundromat a few blocks away. I do this for much the same reason practice yoga, which I once heard summed up quite nicely: "we practice yoga to shed the unnecessary, so that the necessary may speak." I believe in cleaning the home, the body, the mind, and the spirit. If we all payed a little more attention to the upkeep of these aspects of our lives, the world would undoubtedly be a more peaceful place.
Lyn has forgotten something very important: cleaning house.
I thoroughly enjoy cleaning. Call me crazy, but every Saturday morning, after I practice yoga and nibble on some fruit at the Malibu pier, I come home and relax by scrubbing my bathroom, washing my dishes, sweeping my wooden floor, and doing my laundry, if there's enough to merit a trip to the laundromat a few blocks away. I do this for much the same reason practice yoga, which I once heard summed up quite nicely: "we practice yoga to shed the unnecessary, so that the necessary may speak." I believe in cleaning the home, the body, the mind, and the spirit. If we all payed a little more attention to the upkeep of these aspects of our lives, the world would undoubtedly be a more peaceful place.
Friday, July 9, 2010
A Word to the Thick-Souled Sistas
A debate teacher in high school once said something very wise, and it has stayed with me over the last six years: "if something upsets you, you get three minutes. Then you have to move on."
So today, I take my three minutes to complain about being a well-endowed white girl.
If you are black or latina, it is socially acceptable to have some junk in the trunk, some badonkadonk, a little bubble. Ethnic girls are simultaneously healthy and considered beautiful, god bless 'em. However, white girls are expected not only to be stick-thin (especially in Hollywood), but they are also expected to have no discernable assets, unless they are ginormous breasts of death, which look ridiculous on paperthin girls, but that's another three minutes.
After handing out promotional fliers for - get this - a parking lot all morning (because parking lots need to be promoted in Hollywood?), which included being honked at, being ogled, and being informed by a tripping homeless man that he could "make me feel so good", I escaped to my little gold Honda haven, removed my merciless slingback heels, and positively bolted from the lovely new parking building. On my way home, realizing that I still need black button-downs and black shoes for training at Zeke's Smokehouse tomorrow night, I made a quick stop at Goodwill.
Now, this particular Goodwill gets a fair amount of nice clothing, seeing as it's smack-dab in the middle of industry city. After unsuccessfully scanning the shoe racks, which never have anything close to a ten, and finding an Express button-down and a pair of yoga pants, I paused to check out the shorts selection. Shorts were, after all, on sale for $2.99 a pair and, let's be real - it's Los Angeles. You need shorts.
I pulled at least ten pairs of shorts, including such brands as Gap, JCrew, and Mossimo. I almost grabbed the pair of Apple Bottoms but didn't, which I would later learn to be a mistake. None of the shorts I tried on worked. Too big in the waist, too tight on the butt. This is the curse of the rare white girl who does dance or gymnastics or track growing up - to forever be shunned from the cute shorts community, to resign oneself to a life of spandex and cargoes. When I am queen of the world, all of this shall change. So you thick-souled sisters, hang tight; the revolution is coming.
So today, I take my three minutes to complain about being a well-endowed white girl.
If you are black or latina, it is socially acceptable to have some junk in the trunk, some badonkadonk, a little bubble. Ethnic girls are simultaneously healthy and considered beautiful, god bless 'em. However, white girls are expected not only to be stick-thin (especially in Hollywood), but they are also expected to have no discernable assets, unless they are ginormous breasts of death, which look ridiculous on paperthin girls, but that's another three minutes.
After handing out promotional fliers for - get this - a parking lot all morning (because parking lots need to be promoted in Hollywood?), which included being honked at, being ogled, and being informed by a tripping homeless man that he could "make me feel so good", I escaped to my little gold Honda haven, removed my merciless slingback heels, and positively bolted from the lovely new parking building. On my way home, realizing that I still need black button-downs and black shoes for training at Zeke's Smokehouse tomorrow night, I made a quick stop at Goodwill.
Now, this particular Goodwill gets a fair amount of nice clothing, seeing as it's smack-dab in the middle of industry city. After unsuccessfully scanning the shoe racks, which never have anything close to a ten, and finding an Express button-down and a pair of yoga pants, I paused to check out the shorts selection. Shorts were, after all, on sale for $2.99 a pair and, let's be real - it's Los Angeles. You need shorts.
I pulled at least ten pairs of shorts, including such brands as Gap, JCrew, and Mossimo. I almost grabbed the pair of Apple Bottoms but didn't, which I would later learn to be a mistake. None of the shorts I tried on worked. Too big in the waist, too tight on the butt. This is the curse of the rare white girl who does dance or gymnastics or track growing up - to forever be shunned from the cute shorts community, to resign oneself to a life of spandex and cargoes. When I am queen of the world, all of this shall change. So you thick-souled sisters, hang tight; the revolution is coming.
In the beginning..
.. there was a struggling artist, whose story was not so different from anyone else's, but whose story was just unique enough to merit thoughtful record and description. If not for posterity's sake, this story could at least be enough, one day, to make a small, eighty-year-old woman, shriveled and swallowed up by her oak rocking chair next to her hearth, peer down through her laughing blue eyes and exclaim, "what an adventure I have had."
I am writing my story for my friends and family, who hopefully will lose nothing in the reading of it, and who may even gain a chuckle as willing followers of the dramatic interpretation of my life. I am also writing my story as a single selfish act for my mischievous, geriatric self.
***
After graduating from college in May, a dear and very special friend presented me with what I would discover to be a brown, leather-bound journal. I didn't notice until closer examination that the bottom right corner of the cover had my name inscribed. Underneath the somewhat intimidating "Chelsea Elizabeth Vincent" (for some reason, seeing your name imprinted in leather bestows upon you a sense of duty and of "great expectations", to quote Mister Dickens), a quote was also inscribed. The quote read: "Oh, the places you'll go!"
If you've ever wanted to feel utterly lost and without a sense of solid direction, I suggest killing yourself for four years at a highly-respected university (and the eighth "most stressful university/college" in the US as of 2010) and then graduating with.. a gigantic piece of paper. When that moment arrived, I knew the first place I was going: Los Angeles. After that, the list in my head read something like: the temp agency, the breadline, the shelter, the coffin. However, although my mind may have a sarcastic sense of self, my spirit has kept me moving forward. As the name of my blog implies, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. If you haven't picked up your favorite childhood book in years, I suggest going back to it. It is amazing how much wisdom those little pages (with ten words apiece or less) contain.
I sat down yesterday on the set of my first student film in Los Angeles - a low-budget project with USC which is being entered in a contest of sorts to finish filming on the Warner Brothers lot - and pulled out this precious journal. I wasn't sure what to write, so I wrote down a list of the jobs I have held in my life up til now. These include, but are not limited to: babysitter, Little League concessions worker, party planner and entertainer (including children's parties and going to an adult party dressed as Roxie and doing a musical number on, no joke, a stage in some nice white couple's living room), charity street fundraiser, cafe attendant, telefund ambassador, resident assistant, pre-college counselor, yoga instructor, community advisor, cooking and baking entrepreneur (pastries, cakes, candies, breakfast burritos), promotional model, brand ambassador, dog walker, pet sitter, stunt performer, hostess, bartender, model, fit model.. ah, I am also a newly-hired "floater" at a BBQ joint across the street (who knew you could make money floating?), which entails being a cashier, a server, an eventual bartender, and potentially a baker (my employers were ridiculously excited when they found out I can bake well), and, of course, actor (note: significantly less paying jobs thus far in the last category). That last job is the dream job of the childhood me, so I figure I had better keep it in the mix so that I don't get annihilated by an angry blond kid in my second life.
In all honesty, though, I tried to pinpoint my goal the other night at a "Wine & Cheese" party I hosted with friends. I announced that my idea of success is being able to support myself through my work as an actor without compromising my sense of self. Oh, and making the people around me happy during the process would be nice, too.
So, that is what I have arrived here to do... onwards and upwards, right?
Los Angeles is an emotional rollercoaster. One day, I feel like I am on top of the world, and the next day, I feel like I am in the gutter. That is the life of a newly graduated person. Life is both terrifying and dazzling, numbing and thrilling.
As it would take far too much mental energy to track the month and a half that I have been here so far, I will leave it at that and bid you all adieu. Tomorrow is a new day, and the first 'official' entry in the life of this newly-hatched artist. Wish me luck. ;)
I am writing my story for my friends and family, who hopefully will lose nothing in the reading of it, and who may even gain a chuckle as willing followers of the dramatic interpretation of my life. I am also writing my story as a single selfish act for my mischievous, geriatric self.
***
After graduating from college in May, a dear and very special friend presented me with what I would discover to be a brown, leather-bound journal. I didn't notice until closer examination that the bottom right corner of the cover had my name inscribed. Underneath the somewhat intimidating "Chelsea Elizabeth Vincent" (for some reason, seeing your name imprinted in leather bestows upon you a sense of duty and of "great expectations", to quote Mister Dickens), a quote was also inscribed. The quote read: "Oh, the places you'll go!"
If you've ever wanted to feel utterly lost and without a sense of solid direction, I suggest killing yourself for four years at a highly-respected university (and the eighth "most stressful university/college" in the US as of 2010) and then graduating with.. a gigantic piece of paper. When that moment arrived, I knew the first place I was going: Los Angeles. After that, the list in my head read something like: the temp agency, the breadline, the shelter, the coffin. However, although my mind may have a sarcastic sense of self, my spirit has kept me moving forward. As the name of my blog implies, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. If you haven't picked up your favorite childhood book in years, I suggest going back to it. It is amazing how much wisdom those little pages (with ten words apiece or less) contain.
I sat down yesterday on the set of my first student film in Los Angeles - a low-budget project with USC which is being entered in a contest of sorts to finish filming on the Warner Brothers lot - and pulled out this precious journal. I wasn't sure what to write, so I wrote down a list of the jobs I have held in my life up til now. These include, but are not limited to: babysitter, Little League concessions worker, party planner and entertainer (including children's parties and going to an adult party dressed as Roxie and doing a musical number on, no joke, a stage in some nice white couple's living room), charity street fundraiser, cafe attendant, telefund ambassador, resident assistant, pre-college counselor, yoga instructor, community advisor, cooking and baking entrepreneur (pastries, cakes, candies, breakfast burritos), promotional model, brand ambassador, dog walker, pet sitter, stunt performer, hostess, bartender, model, fit model.. ah, I am also a newly-hired "floater" at a BBQ joint across the street (who knew you could make money floating?), which entails being a cashier, a server, an eventual bartender, and potentially a baker (my employers were ridiculously excited when they found out I can bake well), and, of course, actor (note: significantly less paying jobs thus far in the last category). That last job is the dream job of the childhood me, so I figure I had better keep it in the mix so that I don't get annihilated by an angry blond kid in my second life.
In all honesty, though, I tried to pinpoint my goal the other night at a "Wine & Cheese" party I hosted with friends. I announced that my idea of success is being able to support myself through my work as an actor without compromising my sense of self. Oh, and making the people around me happy during the process would be nice, too.
So, that is what I have arrived here to do... onwards and upwards, right?
Los Angeles is an emotional rollercoaster. One day, I feel like I am on top of the world, and the next day, I feel like I am in the gutter. That is the life of a newly graduated person. Life is both terrifying and dazzling, numbing and thrilling.
As it would take far too much mental energy to track the month and a half that I have been here so far, I will leave it at that and bid you all adieu. Tomorrow is a new day, and the first 'official' entry in the life of this newly-hatched artist. Wish me luck. ;)
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