Do you ever feel simultaneously great and like total crap about… um… stuff. Hmmmm. Blogs are awfully public places, non? Perhaps we shall not discuss precisely what it is we are feeling simultaneously great and like total crap about just now, oui?
Class, your word for the day is “schadenfreude.” It is a noun meaning “satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else’s misfortune.” Please leave a comment using “schadenfreude” in a sentence…
Just finished a bowl of reheated spaghetti with a glass of 1% milk (Walmart was out of Skim that late in the day). My body chilled, my belly filled, I *think* I’m finally ready to write about all the goings on of my past week which I keep promising to tell certain people about but then keep neglecting to write about because I’m lazy.
And kind of a goofus…
And the stories aren’t really that interesting…
But I tell them anyway. Why? BECAUSE IT’S MY F-ING BLOG AND I MAKE THE RULES HERE! THAT’S WHY!!
Chapter the First: Monday, 12/1
I had an audition last Monday afternoon at a Talent Agency* that signed me up a couple weeks ago. The audition was for a promotional video to be used in-house by a Beer Company*. My instructions? Show up any time between 9 and 4, be memorized, and look flirty.
So due to computer issues outside their control they can’t get me the script until the night before the audition, I end up showing up closer to 2 pm, my memorization’s out the window because they’ve added a few re-writes I was too dense to incorporate smoothly, and I look… well… You might chat me up at the church picnic, but I’m gonna have to start showing a little leg if I’m going to get you to buy a beer from me.
So it goes.
The read felt like it went pretty well, though, considering it was my first time ever in my life doing something so simple yet UTTERLY NERVE WRACKING. I was one of 8 “be memorized and look flirty”s called by this agency, so it’s nice to know I’m not totally lost in a numbers game, but at the same time: 1) I have no idea how many other agencies read people for it, and 2) I do know that one of the other girls who read for it from mine has totally got this one in the bag because I worked with her at another agency gig the next day and she was talented and adorable and way too cool for anyone to be bummed about her getting the part instead.
I don’t know when we’ll find out for sure how it all played out- it shoots in early January- but I’m already writing this one off as a wash. I mean, it felt fine, but man those would just be some kinda crazy odds I’d have to beat for it to work out, and I’ve never much been favored by lesser likelihoods. (Except those likelihoods dealing with things like breaking out the day before college graduation. I was all over that.)
While I was at the agency for Monday’s aud they found they needed an additional person to work an event that Wednesday night. Talk about great timing, man. If I hadn’t been there I have no doubt it wouldn’t have gone to me. (Especially after seeing who all else it did go to.) They said it was for a Hunting/Conservation* organization’s annual banquet and “Can you show up at 5 to sell raffle tickets?” You’d better believe I can! But I’ll save that for Chapter the Third…
Chapter the Second: Tuesday, 12/2
Tuesday morning, 8 am, I’m out in Glen-something or Green-something. Some -field or -dale. I don’t remember. Point is: I was there. At 8 in the morning. I’m not anywhere at 8 in the morning that’s not my bed these days, so this job? This job was painful. Add to this the fact that I was on Skype until past 2 am the night before while frantically scrambling through my closet looking for Big Girl Clothes to bring to the next day’s shoot.
That’s right. A shoot.
It sounds so cool when you don’t know what it’s really like. And actually– I got to eat a delicious bagel, they treated us to lunch at Noodles where I got to eat my favorite noodle dish (their Pad Thai is EXCELLENT!), and I got to see my friend Libby, so I guess it was kinda cool. :)
The day’s efforts were devoted to filming B roll footage for a Pharmacy’s* version of a televised blog on health related topics. They brought in two other girls, a guy, and me, and we basically spent our day driving around to be filmed having thrilling conversations about our current health insurance plans, talking about what groceries we just picked up, and driving under the influence of distracting elements like cell phones, lipstick, and the aforementioned delicious bagel.
We were the Queens of the B-Roll that day, my friends. The Queen B’s. (BTW: The image accompanying “Chapter the Second” is the top result from Image Googling “b roll.” No kidding.)
And then we all went home.
Chapter the Third: Wednesday, 12/3
Drove through crazy amounts of falling and fallen snow to get to a cool German themed restaurant in the middle of nowhere (read: Mequon) to sell raffle tickets for, drum roll please: GUNS GUNS GUNS.
Yup. A huge part of the Hunting/Conservation group’s annual banquet is devoted to fund raising through raffle prizes and auctions and I got to be a part of it, looking every bit the sexy librarian– which would be great if we’d been asked to look like that. As it stands we were actually asked to come looking “glam,” but the only “glam” thing I own is a tin of extravagantly priced pure maple syrup and somehow I didn’t think it’d be appropriate to come just wearing that. It was just too cold.
Got there right at 5 (gave myself an hour for a 25 minute drive and still barely made it with that danged snow :P) and was promptly greeted by a Hottie in a tight-fitting, off the shoulder, sparkly gold dress.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Hottie #2 in a tight-fitting black dress with a leopard print top, Hottie #3 in a slim white sweater dress over boots, and Hottie #4 in a tight-fitting green dress with open toed pumps.
Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Uh-oh.
Suddenly my black skirt, long sleeved purple top, and black vest felt woefully Mission Barrel. That is– until a bunch of jovial dudes from their 20s to their 70s started snapping up raffle tickets at a hundred bucks a pop from me and Hottie #4. Boy if that doesn’t make you feel charming as hell I don’t know what will. Especially when you get to do it for four and a half hours while wearing super cute shoes, with a break in the middle for a duck dinner with a side of the sweetest, craziest cranberry dish I’ve ever tasted.
And then we all went home.
*I’m not sure if I can publish some of these company names, and I’m not sure if I should publish the others, so for the time being I’m playing any and all identity cards close to the vest…
In Other News…
I’m typing all of this up at my desk with Alfred by my side and suddenly feeling quite sad. Almost abandoned.
It’s a gross feeling. An empty feeling. I don’t like it, and I don’t want it.
And it strikes me now that I don’t have any clue how people who suffer great and genuine losses are able to channel their emotions into poetry, dance, plays, films, paintings… How do you do that? When even just the sting of the unknown is impossible to parse, how do you open real heartache to reveal a sonnet, a song, a story?
I find it remarkable. Utterly remarkable.
And I find I’d perhaps better stick to just blogging about what kind of milk I’m buying and what my stuffed walrus is or is not up to. If you can’t write about something, write about nothing. Write? Right.
And In Yet Other News…
I’m starting a new blog entry in about 20 minutes because this is about to get terribly long and awkwardly disjointed.