Or so it seems. Sorry, folks.
But here is the life of an average gig.
On, say, Tuesday, I hop on Ye Olde Craigslist, and I find an ad that says "ACTORS NEEDED". I click it and find a description that says, "Need 2 Actors/resses for a Short Film. I am a director. See? http://www.imdb.com/lookimreallyadirector ... Credit, Copy, and Meal. No Pay."
Compared to so many others, this one looks less sketchy, so I send an email to the anonymized email address that says "Dear Sir or Madam, Please consider me for a role in your Short Film. You can find my resume and headshot attached. If you follow this link: http://www.youtube.com/twowhitewines , you can find examples of my acting." I customize this form letter if they give me enough information to customize with.
7 out of 8 times, I hear nothing back. 1 out of 12 times, I hear from some scam who wants me to sign up for their service. 1 out of 48 times, I hear from someone calling me in for an audition, and 1 out of 48 times, I hear from someone telling me to just show up for the shoot. Let's pretend I got called for an audition.
If it's a good one, I might go to the Film Independent studios, smile and shake hands with the DP and Director, and slate, then perform a monologue to a camera.
If I just show up, I get an email that says: Come here at 9am and we'll be done by 1pm.
Last time I just showed up to a shoot, I rode Stina's too-small-for-me bike 4 miles to the location because Belmont peed on and rusted my chain. Once there, I was directed to the bagels and leftover pizza from the night before. After standing around for 30 minutes, I was given a contract which said "We get to do whatever we want with you. You don't get anything for it." I signed it. Then I waited around some more. Eventually, a costumer comes and gives me pants 2 sizes too small, and a shirt 3 sizes too big. Then I wait. Then I listen to someone talk. Then I wait. Then I wait somewhere else. Eventually I am handed a cigarette because I'm an army guy in WWII and everybody smoked. I smoke it. They take moving pictures of me smoking it while some guy plays a guitar and I look afraid, excited, bored, and moved all at the same time. Then we do that 80 more times and I smoke 10+ unfiltered cigarettes and sing in a hoarser and hoarser voice. Then it's 4pm, and they acknowledge that they've kept us longer than they promised, but can we stay for just one more scene - it'll only take 15, 20 minutes, tops. We agree, even though some of us know we have to be somewhere else. After we wait an hour, we film for another hour. They ask us then if we can just stay to record our voices. We are getting mutinous, but we stay... another hour. Then they ask... and I say no and leave. Others stay. They're probably getting famouser as we speak.
But I love acting.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Don't you forget about me (in which I quote another song, too)
Over a month has gone by since we last posted. A promised post has failed to come, and will still not arrive at this moment. This post, rather, will be about where we, or at least, I (Stina) have been all this time.
Around the beginning of February I got a job at a cafe called Tada! I have full-time or near full-time hours there, depending on busy-ness. It is a take-out cafe with a full coffee bar that serves the surrounding businesses and schools. TOMS' administrative headquarters is right around the corner, the administrative offices for the Grammys are across the street, various production companies are nearby, and a school that teaches the children of some famous people and some not famous people is a hop, skip and a jump away.
It being L.A., or rather, it being Santa Monica, you can't seem to help bumping into celebrities even when you're not on a set. I helped Demetri Martin without realizing who he was, though I remember thinking he looked like Jason Schwartzman. I did have a heart-thumping moment, though, when I realized another man who looked vaguely familiar was none other than Val Kilmer. I covered well--I don't think he realized I was shouting "ohmygodthat'svalkilmerohmygod!" in my head.
You might remember we do not live in Santa Monica. I travel by bus and by foot to go to work every day. In the morning, my total commute time is about one hour. In the afternoons, though, with heavier traffic, it is always at least an hour and a half. I'm grateful to travel this distance by bus, where I can read the paper or a book, or text, or read Facebook posts on my phone, or occasionally have interesting interactions with other travelers.
For example:
One day, heading home, I was looking to pin my butt down to any available seat, my feet being rather tired (also, I've realized I'm started to get old: my knees ache after standing all day). At the back there was a seat. There was also a very large plastic bin on a nearby seat, which I realized belonged to the passenger seated to my right. I had a brief interaction with him in which he asked about a stop and I was able to provide him some useful information. Therefore we were genial with one another.
Another gentleman (I say gentleman to indicate his more advanced age and his stately mustache) got on the bus and sat next to the big plastic bin. He pulled out some papers and used the bin top as a sort of desk. After a few minutes, the man to my right rearranged the bin to allow more seat-room to the gentleman, and as he did so he pushed the papers to the side a little and said, "Just gotta leave some clear space here." It was then the gentleman and I noticed the air holes.
The gentleman said, looking at me, "Oh, I thought it belonged to you." (Don't ask me.) He then looked at the man to my right. "You've got an animal in there, eh? Sure is quiet!"
I asked the man to my right, "What kind of animal is it?"
He turned his head to me and said very quietly, "A python."
"Oh," I said.
A few minutes later the gentleman again said, "Sure is quiet! What kind of animal do you have in there?"
"Just a little snake."
"Oh! Well, sure is quiet."
"Yeah. Snakes don't make any noise."
Later, after the gentleman had exited the bus, I resumed a bit of conversation with the man to my right, and found out he was going to get some hens to feed to his snake. I guess it probably wasn't so little. Why he had to bring it with him to buy its dinner, I never found out.
The only trouble with working full-time and the long commute, is it doesn't leave much for other pursuits, like writing blogs. I've been meaning to remedy this for quite some time, but when I do have the energy and/or the force of will to write, I do my best to devote it to editing my novel.
I'm about halfway through the editing process, but it is slow-going. Some days I barely get through half a page when I feel too mentally drained to continue. Other days I manage quite a bit more, but then there are also days I don't open that file at all. I'm trying to eliminate those days.
When not working, commuting, or editing my novel, I'm generally found with Brendan and Belmont. On Saturdays we host game night, and on Sundays we alternate between a Brendan-led World of Darkness Vampire game, and a Our-Friend-Joe-led WoD Vampire Game.
That's basically everything that's been keeping me from writing in this here blog. I'll let Brendan answer for himself.
It's my life. Don't you forget. And I'll try to share it with you more often, to help with that point.
Around the beginning of February I got a job at a cafe called Tada! I have full-time or near full-time hours there, depending on busy-ness. It is a take-out cafe with a full coffee bar that serves the surrounding businesses and schools. TOMS' administrative headquarters is right around the corner, the administrative offices for the Grammys are across the street, various production companies are nearby, and a school that teaches the children of some famous people and some not famous people is a hop, skip and a jump away.
It being L.A., or rather, it being Santa Monica, you can't seem to help bumping into celebrities even when you're not on a set. I helped Demetri Martin without realizing who he was, though I remember thinking he looked like Jason Schwartzman. I did have a heart-thumping moment, though, when I realized another man who looked vaguely familiar was none other than Val Kilmer. I covered well--I don't think he realized I was shouting "ohmygodthat'svalkilmerohmygod!" in my head.
You might remember we do not live in Santa Monica. I travel by bus and by foot to go to work every day. In the morning, my total commute time is about one hour. In the afternoons, though, with heavier traffic, it is always at least an hour and a half. I'm grateful to travel this distance by bus, where I can read the paper or a book, or text, or read Facebook posts on my phone, or occasionally have interesting interactions with other travelers.
For example:
One day, heading home, I was looking to pin my butt down to any available seat, my feet being rather tired (also, I've realized I'm started to get old: my knees ache after standing all day). At the back there was a seat. There was also a very large plastic bin on a nearby seat, which I realized belonged to the passenger seated to my right. I had a brief interaction with him in which he asked about a stop and I was able to provide him some useful information. Therefore we were genial with one another.
Another gentleman (I say gentleman to indicate his more advanced age and his stately mustache) got on the bus and sat next to the big plastic bin. He pulled out some papers and used the bin top as a sort of desk. After a few minutes, the man to my right rearranged the bin to allow more seat-room to the gentleman, and as he did so he pushed the papers to the side a little and said, "Just gotta leave some clear space here." It was then the gentleman and I noticed the air holes.
The gentleman said, looking at me, "Oh, I thought it belonged to you." (Don't ask me.) He then looked at the man to my right. "You've got an animal in there, eh? Sure is quiet!"
I asked the man to my right, "What kind of animal is it?"
He turned his head to me and said very quietly, "A python."
"Oh," I said.
A few minutes later the gentleman again said, "Sure is quiet! What kind of animal do you have in there?"
"Just a little snake."
"Oh! Well, sure is quiet."
"Yeah. Snakes don't make any noise."
Later, after the gentleman had exited the bus, I resumed a bit of conversation with the man to my right, and found out he was going to get some hens to feed to his snake. I guess it probably wasn't so little. Why he had to bring it with him to buy its dinner, I never found out.
The only trouble with working full-time and the long commute, is it doesn't leave much for other pursuits, like writing blogs. I've been meaning to remedy this for quite some time, but when I do have the energy and/or the force of will to write, I do my best to devote it to editing my novel.
I'm about halfway through the editing process, but it is slow-going. Some days I barely get through half a page when I feel too mentally drained to continue. Other days I manage quite a bit more, but then there are also days I don't open that file at all. I'm trying to eliminate those days.
When not working, commuting, or editing my novel, I'm generally found with Brendan and Belmont. On Saturdays we host game night, and on Sundays we alternate between a Brendan-led World of Darkness Vampire game, and a Our-Friend-Joe-led WoD Vampire Game.
That's basically everything that's been keeping me from writing in this here blog. I'll let Brendan answer for himself.
It's my life. Don't you forget. And I'll try to share it with you more often, to help with that point.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
First speaking role on national television!
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present, for your delight, the tale of one Fred Brown. An upstart small businessman, renowned for his fantastical parties. Due to circumstance beyond his control, a client was unhappy with the service he provided, and despite his offers of a partial refund, she chose to sue him in AMERICA'S COURT.
Now, I can't give the ending away. And I don't know when it's airing. So you'll just have to watch America's Court (With Judge Ross - He's got this. He's Boss Ross.) forever.
We were given a case and told to make up our arguments. Then the director came in and told us to argue more, and not back down until the judge has told us to settle down at least 3 times.
My co-star was a very nice lady (from Seattle. WhaaaT?). Who's been in LA for the past 7 years. She's an animal care provider. (She was a vet assistant, then owned a doggy day care, now owns a doggy dentistry place.) She's also a funtabulous actress, who told me about IO west. It's an improv group that I'll look into.
I got HD makeup and a dressing room just shared between my costar and me. Pretty awesome. I can see why I want to be an actor. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.
Oooo. I just thought of an argument I should have made. Oh, well. My character didn't think of it in time.
Now, I can't give the ending away. And I don't know when it's airing. So you'll just have to watch America's Court (With Judge Ross - He's got this. He's Boss Ross.) forever.
We were given a case and told to make up our arguments. Then the director came in and told us to argue more, and not back down until the judge has told us to settle down at least 3 times.
My co-star was a very nice lady (from Seattle. WhaaaT?). Who's been in LA for the past 7 years. She's an animal care provider. (She was a vet assistant, then owned a doggy day care, now owns a doggy dentistry place.) She's also a funtabulous actress, who told me about IO west. It's an improv group that I'll look into.
I got HD makeup and a dressing room just shared between my costar and me. Pretty awesome. I can see why I want to be an actor. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.
Oooo. I just thought of an argument I should have made. Oh, well. My character didn't think of it in time.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Adventures in Photography!
This morning, we were surfing the Facebook on our phones, as we do every morning before getting out of bed, and Stina saw a friend of ours from New York say a thing about Los Angeles. Being the people we are, we were all like "OMG LOL R U N LA? US 2!". Being the sober adult our friend is, he responded with a phone call. Sooooo last century.
As it happens, he needed someone to take pictures of some cargoes he was thinking of purchasing (he works for a company that does that; he's not an eccentric millionaire, but if anyone was going to be one, I can imagine him as one very well). He hadn't found a photographer via his usual routes yet, and was I interested in doing the work? I was. And this is my story.
I headed out at quarter to noon, because he said everyone was on lunch breaks from 11AM until 1PM. I bought some batteries up the street from Unicorn Jesus.
I caught the Red Line to the Blue Line (and went past the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Shopping Center "I have a dream... of convenient shopping at affordable prices!" (credit to Adam Sauer)) and got out at Del Amo Station, where I saw this sign:
I was At Del Amo and Santa Fe. Remember that. It makes later funny/sad. I ran to the 192 bus, which had just arrived. Showing her my $6.00 Day Pass, I asked if she went to my stop. She did, but my Day Pass was no good to her. I need a $0.35 transfer from the subway. Could I pay her $0.35? No. I could pay her $1.25. I ran back to the subway, helped a possibly blind man buy his ticket to Los Angeles, bought my $0.35 transfer, and ran back to the bus. She took the transfer from me. (Sidenote: my friend and employer paid for all my transportation expenses, so yay!)
I rode that bus for 5 blocks. Then my stop arrived. Los Angeles seriously needs a new Metro trip planner.
Los Angeles (the city of Long Beach, really, but come on, it's Los Angeles) also seriously needs useful sidewalks. I crossed the road to my destination and walked on the vine-age they had in lieu of a sidewalk. Entering where the trucks would because I saw no other place to enter, a security guard directed me to the office where I found my contact on her lunch break. I waited. "I'm looking for the peanut brittle," (peanut brittle is code for what I was really looking for. It's all very spy movie.) I told her when she came to me. "He'll show you where it is," she responded. And he did. He showed me to 50 barrels. They had markings on them, which I took pictures of. They were...barrels. They could have had kittens inside them or the archangel Michael and his cronies. But I assume they had peanut brittle in them. Then I called my friend/employer to ascertain if I had what he wanted. He asked me to ask for paperwork explaining why the barrels said they came from one place when the ad he had said they came from another place. She went to find out. She came back to tell me these were not the barrels I was looking for. They had multiple shipments of peanut brittle. She told me where I could find this other peanut brittle, at a different warehouse. "I'm walking," I said. "Is it far?" She looked taken aback. I swear, there are plenty of people in L.A. who don't have cars and get around using public transit, but the ones who don't can't comprehend it. "I'll see if I can find someone to drive you."
She found the man who had shown me the earlier boxes. I felt like I was on the road again. An adventure and I was hitching a ride! This ride lived in long beach and liked it in the summer and had an ear infection. I answered all his personal questions, but was evasive when he asked about my employer... according to him (and I may be exaggerating for emphasis) evil supervillains win if they can guess who is buying what. We arrived at what were presumably the correct barrels. I took more pictures of kitten-containing barrels, and I bid adieu to my ride. I stepped out the gate of this new place. I had directions from my old place to my next place, not from this place. So I asked the man putting dirt in a hole with a shovel. He didn't know, but his buddy might. They yelled across the street in Spanish. I thought the word that was supposed to be my street sounded like a different word, but chalked it up to my Sesame Street Spanish. I walked the direction the man told me...past the Del Amo Subway Station. The distance she thought was too far for me to walk? 5 blocks. But I'm not complaining, there's plenty of walking ahead. I walked that way for half a block. Why half a block? Because the sidewalk ended in the middle of the block. I shrugged off the impression that I was part of an absurdist theatre piece, and walked jay. I walked past that sign again, the one about the kiss and ride, to Del Amo and Susana. I doubted the directions I'd been given, and went on the Kindle in my backpack to double check. Indeed, I was walking towards not my street. I retraced my steps and found the correct street. No problem, still an hour and a half until the warehouses close. I reach my destination. "I'm looking for a lot of toenail clippers." I say to the receptionist (again, not really toenail clippers). "Are you looking for Awesome Delivery Service?" (also not real) "Yes, yes, I believe I am." "They moved." Oh. "Are they far? Can I walk there?" "You should take a car." "I don't have a car, can I walk there?" "Yes" I follow her directions to...Del Amo and Susana. 3 miles round trip from point A to point B and back.
So get this, I'm walking up Susana, and suddenly: No sidewalk! Okay. I clamber over some bushes and get this: A crosswalk! If I were coming from the other direction, I would have crossed the crosswalk, and come to a terminal point. No sidewalk leading away from the crosswalk in any direction. Who designed this thing? What do people think pedestrians want? Pedestrians want sidewalks! Not just anywhere, we want USEFUL sidewalks.
Seriously.
I go to the warehouse. They send me to the office. They send me to the warehouse. I take pictures of toenail clippers. There are no customs officials present. I come home.
As it happens, he needed someone to take pictures of some cargoes he was thinking of purchasing (he works for a company that does that; he's not an eccentric millionaire, but if anyone was going to be one, I can imagine him as one very well). He hadn't found a photographer via his usual routes yet, and was I interested in doing the work? I was. And this is my story.
I headed out at quarter to noon, because he said everyone was on lunch breaks from 11AM until 1PM. I bought some batteries up the street from Unicorn Jesus.
I caught the Red Line to the Blue Line (and went past the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Shopping Center "I have a dream... of convenient shopping at affordable prices!" (credit to Adam Sauer)) and got out at Del Amo Station, where I saw this sign:
I was At Del Amo and Santa Fe. Remember that. It makes later funny/sad. I ran to the 192 bus, which had just arrived. Showing her my $6.00 Day Pass, I asked if she went to my stop. She did, but my Day Pass was no good to her. I need a $0.35 transfer from the subway. Could I pay her $0.35? No. I could pay her $1.25. I ran back to the subway, helped a possibly blind man buy his ticket to Los Angeles, bought my $0.35 transfer, and ran back to the bus. She took the transfer from me. (Sidenote: my friend and employer paid for all my transportation expenses, so yay!)
I rode that bus for 5 blocks. Then my stop arrived. Los Angeles seriously needs a new Metro trip planner.
Los Angeles (the city of Long Beach, really, but come on, it's Los Angeles) also seriously needs useful sidewalks. I crossed the road to my destination and walked on the vine-age they had in lieu of a sidewalk. Entering where the trucks would because I saw no other place to enter, a security guard directed me to the office where I found my contact on her lunch break. I waited. "I'm looking for the peanut brittle," (peanut brittle is code for what I was really looking for. It's all very spy movie.) I told her when she came to me. "He'll show you where it is," she responded. And he did. He showed me to 50 barrels. They had markings on them, which I took pictures of. They were...barrels. They could have had kittens inside them or the archangel Michael and his cronies. But I assume they had peanut brittle in them. Then I called my friend/employer to ascertain if I had what he wanted. He asked me to ask for paperwork explaining why the barrels said they came from one place when the ad he had said they came from another place. She went to find out. She came back to tell me these were not the barrels I was looking for. They had multiple shipments of peanut brittle. She told me where I could find this other peanut brittle, at a different warehouse. "I'm walking," I said. "Is it far?" She looked taken aback. I swear, there are plenty of people in L.A. who don't have cars and get around using public transit, but the ones who don't can't comprehend it. "I'll see if I can find someone to drive you."
She found the man who had shown me the earlier boxes. I felt like I was on the road again. An adventure and I was hitching a ride! This ride lived in long beach and liked it in the summer and had an ear infection. I answered all his personal questions, but was evasive when he asked about my employer... according to him (and I may be exaggerating for emphasis) evil supervillains win if they can guess who is buying what. We arrived at what were presumably the correct barrels. I took more pictures of kitten-containing barrels, and I bid adieu to my ride. I stepped out the gate of this new place. I had directions from my old place to my next place, not from this place. So I asked the man putting dirt in a hole with a shovel. He didn't know, but his buddy might. They yelled across the street in Spanish. I thought the word that was supposed to be my street sounded like a different word, but chalked it up to my Sesame Street Spanish. I walked the direction the man told me...past the Del Amo Subway Station. The distance she thought was too far for me to walk? 5 blocks. But I'm not complaining, there's plenty of walking ahead. I walked that way for half a block. Why half a block? Because the sidewalk ended in the middle of the block. I shrugged off the impression that I was part of an absurdist theatre piece, and walked jay. I walked past that sign again, the one about the kiss and ride, to Del Amo and Susana. I doubted the directions I'd been given, and went on the Kindle in my backpack to double check. Indeed, I was walking towards not my street. I retraced my steps and found the correct street. No problem, still an hour and a half until the warehouses close. I reach my destination. "I'm looking for a lot of toenail clippers." I say to the receptionist (again, not really toenail clippers). "Are you looking for Awesome Delivery Service?" (also not real) "Yes, yes, I believe I am." "They moved." Oh. "Are they far? Can I walk there?" "You should take a car." "I don't have a car, can I walk there?" "Yes" I follow her directions to...Del Amo and Susana. 3 miles round trip from point A to point B and back.
So get this, I'm walking up Susana, and suddenly: No sidewalk! Okay. I clamber over some bushes and get this: A crosswalk! If I were coming from the other direction, I would have crossed the crosswalk, and come to a terminal point. No sidewalk leading away from the crosswalk in any direction. Who designed this thing? What do people think pedestrians want? Pedestrians want sidewalks! Not just anywhere, we want USEFUL sidewalks.
Seriously.
I go to the warehouse. They send me to the office. They send me to the warehouse. I take pictures of toenail clippers. There are no customs officials present. I come home.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
My Day at the Library
I'm on the job hunt*, and a thing I keep hearing is, “Oh, that's all handled online. You have to apply online.” I find this frustrating. I feel that a personal meeting, being able to shake someone's hand and actually give them my resume and talk to them about it on the spot, is a much better way for them to get to know me and see that I'd be the perfect fit for whatever the job is. It's how I got a job at J. Matheson Gifts, and that was a fruitful, two-year-long relationship.
Anyhow, I'm ranting, and this is meant to be a post about my day at the library. Let's get to it. I went to the library on Tuesday with our laptop so I could spend the day applying online to a bunch of places. Brendan had background work, so I went solo. I took over a small, round table in a back room at our local branch and got to work. This room is where the teen books live, as well as a row of computers which people can sign up to use in one-hour time slots. It's usually pretty quiet.
I got to the library when it opened at 12:30pm. Later in the afternoon, just when I was needing a break from writing cover letters and answering stupid questions like, “When at work, are you seen as more a) interesting, or b) motivated,” I got to witness quite a show.
A woman had arrived in the room a few minutes earlier to use one of the computers. She had a small child with her in a stroller that she had pulled up next to her and sort of behind her, to her right. The child was whimpering and she turned to it and said, “SHHHHHH!!! You stop that!!” then went back to the computer. The child whimpered some more, and she said, “SHHHHHH!!!” some more. The child whimpered. She turned around and looked at the child and said, “Do you see my face? I am serious. You better quit that or you are gonna get a spanking.” A whimper. “I'm not joking. Look at my face. Do I look like I'm joking?” She did look kind of scary.
The child stopped whimpering and I stopped noticing what was happening with the woman. But the show was not over. A man stood behind another man who was using a computer next to the woman and her child. Allow me to illustrate:
So Indignant Man says to Unmoving Man, “I booked this computer, could you please move?”
Unmoving Man: "It doesn't say you booked this computer."
Indignant Man: “If you try to log in, you'll see that you can't because I booked this computer. Could you please move?”
Unmoving Man: “It doesn't say you booked this computer.”
Indignant Man: “I wouldn't say I booked this computer if I hadn't just booked this computer. You're wasting my minutes. Could you please move?”
Unmoving Man's friend comes over and joins in the chorus: “It doesn't say you booked this computer.”
Indignant Man: “I booked this computer. Now would you please move so I can log on. You're wasting my minutes!”
Unmoving Man doesn't move.
Indignant Man then pushes his way past the stroller so he can reach the keyboard and input his information to log on. That's when the woman stands up.
“Excuse me! Get your ass out of my baby's face!” (Indignant Man was showing some major ass-crackage.)
Indignant Man mutters something about wasting his minutes and continues doing what he's doing. Unmoving Man is starting to move, backing his chair out of the space Indignant Man is now occupying.
The woman says again, “Nobody cares about your stupid minutes! You don't put your ass all up in my baby's face! You say excuse me, you say something to me, you don't just push my baby!”
Unmoving Man is standing now, and Indignant Man is sitting.
The woman says, “I'm serious! You wanna take this outside right now? I'm not from L.A.!” She then says to Unmoving Man, “Would you go and tell a librarian this man is getting his ass all up in my baby's face?” Unmoving Man doesn't move.
The woman sits back down, still muttering about ass in her baby's face, then she gets up and says to Unmoving Man, “Would you watch my computer?” He nods, and she gets up and pushes her baby out of the room.
She comes back with a librarian and says to the librarian, “That's him. He pushed my baby and was rude.”
Indignant Man says, “I was just trying to log into the computer I had booked.”
Unmoving Man and his friend say something about Indignant Man being rude.
The librarian looks around at all of them and sees that they all are on their own computers. She says, “You're all on your own computers now. Just try to stay out of each others' way.”
The woman says, “Okay, thank you.”
The librarian leaves and Indignant Man starts laughing uproariously, like he's just won the battle.
The woman sits back down and says, “If my brother were here, you wouldn't be laughing. He would take care of you.” She mutters something else in Spanish and continues working on her computer.
There was one other thing that happened, where a man was prosthelytizing to some teenagers about the Muslim religion and really pissing me off in his talk about women being made after men and therefore being meant to follow man, but there's wasn't much of a show in that. I told the librarian, and she was going to tell him to keep his conversation down, but he was done by the time we went back.
I'm at the library again now. What else might happen? Stay tuned.
*Since writing this Tuesday night, it seems I've found a job as a medical marijuana promoter! More on that to come.
Anyhow, I'm ranting, and this is meant to be a post about my day at the library. Let's get to it. I went to the library on Tuesday with our laptop so I could spend the day applying online to a bunch of places. Brendan had background work, so I went solo. I took over a small, round table in a back room at our local branch and got to work. This room is where the teen books live, as well as a row of computers which people can sign up to use in one-hour time slots. It's usually pretty quiet.
I got to the library when it opened at 12:30pm. Later in the afternoon, just when I was needing a break from writing cover letters and answering stupid questions like, “When at work, are you seen as more a) interesting, or b) motivated,” I got to witness quite a show.
A woman had arrived in the room a few minutes earlier to use one of the computers. She had a small child with her in a stroller that she had pulled up next to her and sort of behind her, to her right. The child was whimpering and she turned to it and said, “SHHHHHH!!! You stop that!!” then went back to the computer. The child whimpered some more, and she said, “SHHHHHH!!!” some more. The child whimpered. She turned around and looked at the child and said, “Do you see my face? I am serious. You better quit that or you are gonna get a spanking.” A whimper. “I'm not joking. Look at my face. Do I look like I'm joking?” She did look kind of scary.
The child stopped whimpering and I stopped noticing what was happening with the woman. But the show was not over. A man stood behind another man who was using a computer next to the woman and her child. Allow me to illustrate:
So Indignant Man says to Unmoving Man, “I booked this computer, could you please move?”
Unmoving Man: "It doesn't say you booked this computer."
Indignant Man: “If you try to log in, you'll see that you can't because I booked this computer. Could you please move?”
Unmoving Man: “It doesn't say you booked this computer.”
Indignant Man: “I wouldn't say I booked this computer if I hadn't just booked this computer. You're wasting my minutes. Could you please move?”
Unmoving Man's friend comes over and joins in the chorus: “It doesn't say you booked this computer.”
Indignant Man: “I booked this computer. Now would you please move so I can log on. You're wasting my minutes!”
Unmoving Man doesn't move.
Indignant Man then pushes his way past the stroller so he can reach the keyboard and input his information to log on. That's when the woman stands up.
“Excuse me! Get your ass out of my baby's face!” (Indignant Man was showing some major ass-crackage.)
Indignant Man mutters something about wasting his minutes and continues doing what he's doing. Unmoving Man is starting to move, backing his chair out of the space Indignant Man is now occupying.
The woman says again, “Nobody cares about your stupid minutes! You don't put your ass all up in my baby's face! You say excuse me, you say something to me, you don't just push my baby!”
Unmoving Man is standing now, and Indignant Man is sitting.
The woman says, “I'm serious! You wanna take this outside right now? I'm not from L.A.!” She then says to Unmoving Man, “Would you go and tell a librarian this man is getting his ass all up in my baby's face?” Unmoving Man doesn't move.
The woman sits back down, still muttering about ass in her baby's face, then she gets up and says to Unmoving Man, “Would you watch my computer?” He nods, and she gets up and pushes her baby out of the room.
She comes back with a librarian and says to the librarian, “That's him. He pushed my baby and was rude.”
Indignant Man says, “I was just trying to log into the computer I had booked.”
Unmoving Man and his friend say something about Indignant Man being rude.
The librarian looks around at all of them and sees that they all are on their own computers. She says, “You're all on your own computers now. Just try to stay out of each others' way.”
The woman says, “Okay, thank you.”
The librarian leaves and Indignant Man starts laughing uproariously, like he's just won the battle.
The woman sits back down and says, “If my brother were here, you wouldn't be laughing. He would take care of you.” She mutters something else in Spanish and continues working on her computer.
There was one other thing that happened, where a man was prosthelytizing to some teenagers about the Muslim religion and really pissing me off in his talk about women being made after men and therefore being meant to follow man, but there's wasn't much of a show in that. I told the librarian, and she was going to tell him to keep his conversation down, but he was done by the time we went back.
I'm at the library again now. What else might happen? Stay tuned.
*Since writing this Tuesday night, it seems I've found a job as a medical marijuana promoter! More on that to come.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Settling into Los Angeles
Our lives here are slowly getting settled. I (Stina) initially planned to try and find a job, any job, as soon as we had an address here. Then we heard about background acting. We joined Central Casting, a casting company that posts available work for extras on a hotline. If you hear a job that you think you match, you call the number provided until you get through. The casting director pulls up your profile and says yay or neigh based on whether you match the look they need.
There are several good things about this kind of work:
But there's a downside, too. It's not regular work, and it's hard to get the work. When I hear something I think I match, I start calling on it immediately and inevitably get a busy signal. I keep on calling, just hoping to get through. Sometimes I do after half an hour and get booked, sometimes I do after an hour and don't get booked, and sometimes I give up after more than an hour. For Brendan calling the men's line, even the hotline is often busy.
We've been hearing a lot about call-in or calling services (they're called both depending on whom you ask). Call-in services are companies that book you for background work, thus saving you the trouble of calling the hotline and trying to book yourself. They cost anywhere from $60-$75 per month. We think we'll try to go with a call-in service for the month of January, just to see if we're able to get booked regularly.
But it's scary, not having a regular income, so I think I'll also try to find a regular job once we return after the holidays. We've got savings to keep us afloat for a few months, but after that . . . well, we don't want to arrive at a desperate situation.
I've been trying to think of jobs I wouldn't hate but that would also be somewhat easy to get. Working at a grocery store, maybe, so I can easily access what would otherwise be thrown out, and so we could get discounts on some of the more expensive fake-meat products I like. Something having to do with animals. Or maybe something that will allow us free access to something fun, like a museum or the zoo or a theatre.
But enough about that. We've been making some lovely friends here. We've kept in contact with the couchsurfers we stayed with when we first arrived, Ross and Dane, and we met another couchsurfer from Seattle, Sydney. We joined a role-playing group and really like the storyteller and other players. We've been getting to know Randy, another UW drama major, and making films with him. I met another writer, Craig Pitchford, randomly in the library, and we're going to start a writing group in January. Los Angeles is filled with kind people, but I guess that's to be expected. We meet kind people everywhere we go.
I guess that's the lesson I can take away from this post. Even with all the stress of money woes, the people we come into contact with brighten our days and offer solid game-playing and/or creative companionship. I will find a job, but more importantly, I will keep these friends beyond whatever job temporarily keeps us afloat.
Ross is in green in the middle (he was a tree, or maybe broccoli),
Dane is wearing the rainbow wig on the left
Sydney and Randy, at a late late dinner or early early breakfast after midnight Harry Potter
Sydney and me with James Dean
There are several good things about this kind of work:
- There is downtime, so it is possible to do other things (ie, edit my book)
- Overtime pay, and frequent overtime (so we've heard, anyway...I've only gotten a little overtime)
- Free food (usually)
- It's super-duper easy
- Rubbing elbows with stars (or sometimes accidentally knocking one's elbow into a star's face--ask Brendan)
But there's a downside, too. It's not regular work, and it's hard to get the work. When I hear something I think I match, I start calling on it immediately and inevitably get a busy signal. I keep on calling, just hoping to get through. Sometimes I do after half an hour and get booked, sometimes I do after an hour and don't get booked, and sometimes I give up after more than an hour. For Brendan calling the men's line, even the hotline is often busy.
We've been hearing a lot about call-in or calling services (they're called both depending on whom you ask). Call-in services are companies that book you for background work, thus saving you the trouble of calling the hotline and trying to book yourself. They cost anywhere from $60-$75 per month. We think we'll try to go with a call-in service for the month of January, just to see if we're able to get booked regularly.
But it's scary, not having a regular income, so I think I'll also try to find a regular job once we return after the holidays. We've got savings to keep us afloat for a few months, but after that . . . well, we don't want to arrive at a desperate situation.
I've been trying to think of jobs I wouldn't hate but that would also be somewhat easy to get. Working at a grocery store, maybe, so I can easily access what would otherwise be thrown out, and so we could get discounts on some of the more expensive fake-meat products I like. Something having to do with animals. Or maybe something that will allow us free access to something fun, like a museum or the zoo or a theatre.
But enough about that. We've been making some lovely friends here. We've kept in contact with the couchsurfers we stayed with when we first arrived, Ross and Dane, and we met another couchsurfer from Seattle, Sydney. We joined a role-playing group and really like the storyteller and other players. We've been getting to know Randy, another UW drama major, and making films with him. I met another writer, Craig Pitchford, randomly in the library, and we're going to start a writing group in January. Los Angeles is filled with kind people, but I guess that's to be expected. We meet kind people everywhere we go.
I guess that's the lesson I can take away from this post. Even with all the stress of money woes, the people we come into contact with brighten our days and offer solid game-playing and/or creative companionship. I will find a job, but more importantly, I will keep these friends beyond whatever job temporarily keeps us afloat.
Ross is in green in the middle (he was a tree, or maybe broccoli),Dane is wearing the rainbow wig on the left
Sydney and Randy, at a late late dinner or early early breakfast after midnight Harry Potter
Sydney and me with James Dean
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