Well, I haven't succeeded in conquering my bad habits yet. Perhaps I have to set goals and punishments for myself. If I do x, then no sweets. I will more likely cut down on sugar than stop pulling at my hair. But maybe I'll try it; either way it can't hurt.

The other thing I was thinking about trying is this: I'd like to stop complaining. I don't know if I could do it completely, but at least I could cut down. Now, this leads into a discussion about complaints: does saying "I have a headache" count as a complaint, or is it merely a state of fact? I suppose it has to do with the tone of voice (either real or written, in this case), and the context.
Now there is potential disaster in this, being that internalizing all one's negativity may cause serious mental and physical health. The trick is to be less negative internally. To develop a better way of viewing the world. Still working on that.

Why I complain about my work...

Yeah, I do a lot of complaining about my work, I know, but let these me give you an idea of the BS I have to endure:

I've been offered, and rejected, several jobs on indie features this summer. Why, you ask? Well, here's why:

1. Many of these positions are 1099 tax type, so no taxes are taken from the paychecks. Therefore I have to pay self-employment tax, federal, state, and twice the usual Social Security out of my own pocket. Any freelancer is aware of this. Part of life, part of freelancing. Now if they only paid a decent wage then it really wouldn't be a big deal.

2. A feature requires stupidly long, hard hours of physical labor... no less than 12 and up to 20 a day. Usually 6 days a week, sometimes 5, but usually even 5 day weeks turn into 6 when a film is understaffed which they often are.

3. The physical labor is dangerous, involving blades, ladders, high voltages of electricity, heavy objects, and any combination of 2 or more of these. There is no workers comp and no health insurance. If you're hurt, you're screwed, and there's no paid time off. Plus after 16 hours of backbreaking work you are very likely to screw up and hurt yourself. I've seen it happen.

4. Because they are "indie features" and there is little (little being relative) money to spend, most money goes into equipment rentals, locations, fees, and rates for the stars or the keys. They offer me, an experienced worker with rent and a mouth to feed, something like 100/day. (on a side note, tv, events, and print pay much better than this). Okay, that might not be so bad, except that instead of working 9-5, you are working 5-9, or 9-9, or 1pm-3am, or 11pm-11am, depending on the day. So I could be making anything from a whopping $8/hr to $6/hr. They offer "meals, transportation, and a copy of the completed film." Now, I'm still waiting for many, many "copies" and trying to get a free metrocard from the management is like pulling teeth. It doesn't pay rent, either. Sure there are people on the set who are paid more than I am; I just happen to have one of the most undervalued-yet-essential positions in the history of filmmaking. We'll not even go into that for the safety of everyone in my general vicinity.

5. Finally, there is no respect. On other jobs, tv and print for example, I am treated like an important addition to a team of real human beings with real lives. In indie film you are treated like a slave (or a financial burden) who is just lucky to be there and maybe, just maybe, if you work hard enough and kiss enough ass then the big shots (usually deluded egomaniacs) will let you work on their next big movie that no one will ever see! Yay!

Whew. That said, there are always some exceptions. I've worked for some good, kind people that deserve recognition and a chance to realize their dreams. I just needed to vent. I was offered another interview for a feature job today and the person who offered refused to tell me the pay rate. I told her that she needed to give me some numbers because if it's too low, I don't want to waste her time or mine with an interview. Maybe she just assumed I wanted it no matter what. Sorry, I don't. I have some nice temp agencies to work for.

More on the results of this drama later.

I have a confession to make...

I like money. Not in a gold-digging, wealth-coveting, consumer's way, but rather in a numerical theoretical way. Those of you who know my best already know this: I enjoy watching the numbers in my bank account increase and I abhor watching them decrease. As a result, I live a very spartan life: I own practically nothing, all of my furniture is either my roommate's or something I brought home for free from a shoot. My computer is a cheap refurb. My computer table was a gift. My printer is a hand-me-down. All of my clothes are second hand or old enough to be (with a few minor exceptions). I have no tv, no stereo, no bureau of my own (I'm borrowing one), and no car. I make very little money. I live like a college student and I don't feel bad about it. As a result, the numbers in my bank account somehow slowly increase with time (despite the fact that, I repeat, I make shockingly little money).
I think the numbers are symbolic. Not too many years ago those numbers symbolized my potential to travel, to see the world. Now they symbolize security... The kind of security I don't have in a workplace or in a community or in a home. I have several months of living wages ahead of me. If I have to move, I can put a down payment on a car and an apartment. If I go back to school I could pay for a semester of school (depending on the school) before financial aid kicks in or if it fails to provide enough. If my employers all cut me off at once I could get by for 5 or 6 months here before I'm completely broke. I keep wondering, "if I have a job, will I be able to spend a little more freely?" Sometimes I think it would be hard, but experience has proved otherwise. Yeah, I could splurge a little, just as long as I knew I'd make it up. I just don't know that now.
Why is this? Maybe it's this country's wealth paranoia: "Save for retirement!""Invest your money!""You too can have kids, start a college fund, run a business, own a home, drive two cars, and have a healthy sum for retirement if you start saving NOW!" I don't necessarily blame the media, though, because I've always been this way. I won't begin to tell you about how I saved my lunch money. My only fear is that I'll never have the guts to use it.

In a few mintues I have to make some PBJ and hit the road. Not for pleasure, mind you, but for work. However, it will be pleasing as I'm heading to Southampton on a sunny day. However, I'm afraid of the rich people. They might try to eat my soul. They've taken a good big bite before so I won't put it past them to try it again.

Anyhoo, not much news for now. I was disappointed with Meet the Press as usual this morning. Why do I even bother? I'm always hoping for some answers and all I get is punditry and doublespeak. I can gleen some things out of what is said, but how do I know that I'm not just being manipulated? That I'm gleening what they want me to gleen? Yet I still vote 'cause if I didn't, I wouldn't feel justified in complaining like this.

They were supposed to talk about gas prices and all I understood was "gas prices are not the presinent's fault." Okay, got it. So now what? No answer. My parents (an excellent resource for information, thank you very much) told me that we are at the peak of fuel availibility and that very soon (within a matter of years) the resources will begin to diminish. I don't know any more information as my lazy ass didn't look it up but it's something to think about. It's possible. There may be no end to high prices. That may sound sad, but I just want to laugh and laugh despite the fact that it will fuck up my entire way of life. They taught us this in elementary school. It is simple, readily available information that 5th graders can understand (and I'll bet they understand more than we give them credit for). Fossil fuels are finite. There's a limited supply. Perhaps we can all pray really hard.

Alright, enough complaining. Happy thoughts from now on.

My little bro went off to college today. He's so grown up! I'm excited for him; college is awesome. I wish him all the best.

Alright. I'm off.

This makes me sound so sexy...

In a Past Life...

You Were: A Gorgeous Beekeeper. Where You Lived: Italy. How You Died: Typhoid fever.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

Crazy dreams (again)

So last night's dream involved me and a team of people (presumably scientists). We were on an expedition to go to the deepest part of the ocean, where no one supposedly traveled before, in order to do some tests and studies down there but also because it's cool. While down there I saw some interesting clear starfish floating about and observed a new type of bacteria. Anyway, as we were preparing to leave, we were suddenly informed by our guides that we were in fact not going to leave. Our guides had set up this trip to the most inaccessable place in order to trap us along with scores of other scientists that they'd previously captured. Here is where things got very surreal: they took us to a space where all the other scientists were kept and everyone was under a grand hallucination. I appeared to be on dry land with constant sunshine and good weather, interacting with others (but only the others that were there) and everyone was in this hazy dream-state where they felt this was reality yet it didn't make any sense. People were just going about thier "lives," all very pleasant, although these lives didn't resemble their real lives up above. Being new and not yet brainwashed, I understood that although people had everything they needed to survive in their hallucinations, in fact there were limited resources and eventually we were going to run out of food and water and even air. The captors were about to leave and perhaps never return. We were to be trapped under the ocean with no means to escape, left to die without knowing. There was one other girl, though, who began to snap out of the hallucination. Every time she ate any food, it tasted like cake to her. Apples, cucumbers, sausage... it all tasted like cake. When I pointed out to her how wrong this was, she began to come back into reality. When she snapped out of it, the rest of the collective hallucination began to come apart. Just in time we were all able to rise up, overtake our captors, and return to the surface. Yay!

Wedding

My friend's wedding was last weekend in Michigan, and yes, I did get to go, and yes, I did have to work around that time. So I only went for a day. Brief visits are great. Sure there was an airplane involved, but it really felt like I just took a little drive down to the Detroit area to say hello to some people. Well, the long wait at the airport at 2 am didn't exactly feel like a little drive... but the first part did!
Anyhoo, this wedding was probably one of the best weddings of all time and most likely broke a record for the shortest wedding in history. It was pretty straitforward: "do you..." "I do." "Do you..." "I do" Ring 1. Ring 2. Kiss. Done. The ceremony took place in the couples' backyard and so did the reception. It was wonderful, lots of fun, full of all the people that mattered. If I ever get to that point in my life I'll probably do something very similar. I'm pretty minimalist, functional, and I'd rather spend the money on a kickass honeymoon.
Of course there's this whole idea of "tradition," and according to that tradition I should be really concerned with flower arrangements and expensive dresses and bad dj's and the like. I do respect traditions and I think that wedding ceremonies are wonderful cultural rituals. I'll go to them, I'll eat some cake, cry, dance a little. But my own? Well, seeing as though I pretty much live in my own little world, I also have my own traditions. Now, I'm also considering the fact that I may very well remain single forever. That's fine too.


Okay, so that's not the reason I haven't written much. I have issues with motivation. Sure, I've written lots of things to myself in personal journal form but none of that has made its way onto this blog. I'm still toying with the idea of ripping myself completely open and totally revealing my crazy internal dialogue, but that may not be the best idea. So, we'll see... In the meantime I'll be trying to update the a little more periodically.

All for now.