picture picture (dot) net: September 2003 Archives

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September 27, 2003

sheesh, it's been a long time between posts.

In my last entry, I wrote about being too exhausted to write.

About how my job was draining me of energy to the point where my brain didn't know how to do anything other than make me ache and make me sleep.

What I didn't tell you: my days aren't just spent in an office.

Okay, I spend 20 hours a week in the office. another 10 commuting to and fro on the train.

I spend another 30 hours a week looking for jobs, auditioning at cattle calls, sending photos, having pre-shoot meetings with photographers and stylists, going to 'fittings' and 'shoots', trotting from office to office collecting hard-earned paycheques, then starting the whole process over again.

I know I used to bitch about how I didn't have anything to do, what with the not having a job and all.

but now I have three jobs. web designery, modelling, and the ever-exhausting "shopping myself around to get more jobs so I can pay the fucking bills." And it's turned me into an old woman, sleeping ten hours a night and feeling like I should try to fit in a nap in the middle of the day somewhere.

I promise, Multi-pass, I'm grateful for what I do have. but I'm just saddened by how much time I spend searching and sleeping. I can barely make it home on the train before I fall asleep, let alone call my favorite new yorker to purr sweet nothings into the phone and entreat him to speak in multiple adorable accents. . . and it is devastating that I can't put semi coherent sentences together for picturepicture like I used to...

I barely see the gentlemanfriend, what with the travel he has to do for his book tour and research trips and the bad overlap with my work schedules and CONSTANT SLEEPING...

I see the family all the time (did I mention I'm living with them?) and exhaustion makes me too crabby to be decent around them - every little thing is too loud, too often, TOO MUCH...

If I had any money, or any insurance, I'd take these health issues up with a professional. Pick up a few tabs of amphetamines, perhaps. jump start the engine and strike a decent balance between work, work, work, play, and sleep.

If I had any pride, I wouldn't pout like a princess on my website : "why can't everything be perfect and easy and happy and kittens and ponies and shiny-pretty? why won't you buy me something? Why can't I have a full-time job with insurance and enough to pay off the credit cards and have something left over so I can buy an apartment?" but I'm just too unfocused and sleepy and weirded out by the world to care about pride.

but I'm not too sleepy to forget to be grateful. just too forgetful to write about it. perhaps next time, I'll have words of thanks.

Posted by Heather at 10:59 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

September 16, 2003

my mind has been numbed by the vicious circle of life

I wake up, go to work, get drunk, go to sleep.

I wake up, go to work, see the man, go to sleep.

I wake up, go to work, come home, go to sleep.

I wake up, go to work, sob at the useless futility of it all, go to sleep.

yes. my life has become so terribly exhausting, I have stopped writing as often as I'd like.

I've also stopped playing as much as I'd like.

the only thing that has ramped up over the last week? the sleeping.

I used to be an insomniac, now I'm narcoleptic. I'm waking up at 7am and going to sleep at 9pm...I feel like I'm missing out on the world, but that's apparently the way it goes when you work.

I forgot how exhausting florescent lights can be.

how painful it is, to sit in an office chair specially designed for the previous occupant, who apparently had severe scoliosis and a hunchback.

how arbitrary dress codes are. but necessary for the spray starch and dry cleaning industries.

going to an office every day has also reminded me of the simple joys - wearing the hello kitty wristwatch, making a contest to see how much water you can drink in 4 hours (my record is 4 litres, I'm working on 5 today!), realizing that every day there's a different freak on the train with a different freaky thing to tell you while you're getting off at Clark and Lake.

I love my job, I like having something specific to do every day in exchange for a little bit of cash - but if I have to go through another day with a migraine, I will probably die.

happy thoughts creep in around the edges

Mark and Amy's housewarming party

the birth of Chris and Megan's second child (a girl!)

the publication of the man's first book (it's in stores today! hooray you!)

salsa concerts, dinner parties, introducing family members and sitting on the beach with my sweetie.

but the distance between these is so vast, the happy thoughts seem too far away to describe adequately.

I'm off to sleep again.

Posted by Heather at 07:34 AM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

September 10, 2003

the kindness of strangers

oh my god. I can't stop playing Redhead by Bleu.

yes, I know everyone in the world has discovered this artist and cd, and have annoyed their roommates with "we'll do it all again" until they recovered the yellow sofa with pink velveteen.

and now I'm 'one' of 'everyone', thanks to the girl on the train to O'Hare who quit her job to move to Los Angeles with her new boyfriend, devil-may-care, and just wanted me to have this CD, in exchange for the book I had just finished reading.

I just know you'll have a fabulous life, no matter what your former coworkers may say. Moving for love doesn't always mean disaster. . . unless your lover's favorite song is 'Watchin' You Sleep.'

Posted by Heather at 03:31 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

September 09, 2003

Don't Give Dogs...

oh goodness, I'm in a confession mood tonight.

but I promised I wouldn't write about anything in particular that happened over the last week, out of respect for the kind, loving, and terribly shy soul who asked me to refrain.

no matter that I'm failing to find much inspiration from anything else that happens from day-to-day. Hmm...let's see....

...the overflowing toilet in the ladies' room at work was pretty gross, but not noteworthy. unless you remember that I just got this job after being out of work for 9 months, so that I have a job, overflowing toilet and all, is pretty damned noteworthy--the poopy floor? not so much.

...the designers at the fitting on Friday 'needed' to draw on the muslin samples more often than what has become 'normal' - why is it that changes only happen near the naughty bits? I'm always being prodded in the gusset. but not enough for it to be worth my while.

...my friend frank finally finished Buttleman. and the premiere was, apparently, a smashing success. I only wish I could have attended. . . I suppose I'll have to wait 'til it shows up in Chicago. Or on IFC (an addiction, now, that fills my Tivo with independent goodness). or on DVD, when I buy it.

...saw Le Divorce. Finally, a modern-day Merchant/Ivory that I can enjoy. A fine, fine effort. Very weird to see Glen Close seeming to play Christine Froula, if Christine went the Fiction route, rather than Academe. okay, if that made no sense, it's only because I couldn't find a photo of the two women to show you the uncanny similarities.

...realized that I tend to find a vague corresponding celebrity for everyone I meet and then I can't shake the correspondence when I see movies. My brother has always looked like a combo of the guy from the Lemonheads and Matt Damon, which made "The Talented Mr Ripley" very creepy. Believe it or not, my mother resembled Candace Bergen enough where my college beau and his cronies called her "Murphy" when they came over for dinner, or visited me in hospital....I worried mom might get that awful stringy neck thing she had going on - thankfully, my family ages more gracefully than the Bergens.

...can't get 70s Love Groove out of my head. That's right, I listen to Janet Jackson. Ms. Jackson, to you-all. I'm fit to tizzify with the sexy silly song buzzin' my skull. I'd ask for tips on how to free the music, but I think I like how this makes me feel - makes me walk like I got an audience.

whoo, talk about a list of nonsequitors. and somewhat boring ones at that. I'm givin the man a call - I'm sure there's SOMETHING we did that he wouldn't mind sharing with a couple hundred strangers...

...okay, I can write about one thing we did this weekend - Salsa dancin' in Chicago. Boy, can my man cut a rug! I loved that the place was so crowded, you can't feel self-conscious about not knowing all the steps - and, ladies, if you make brief eye contact with any gentleman in the room, he'll step up and give you a dance lesson just as soon as the next song starts. I picked up several new steps....at least, I think they're steps - my spanish isn't so good, and their english vocab (much better than my spanish) was more centered around their pre-med/pre-law coursework than on the dance. eh, good thing you can learn to dance without having to speak a word - just follow their lead, step carefully, and smile!

Posted by Heather at 10:43 PM | TrackBack

September 02, 2003

Fitting, frittering, fraternizing...

So, as I may have mentioned, I have a job.

which frees me from the "oh god, how the fuck will I pay my bills this month" panic that had been weighing me down, lo, these past few (okay, nine) months.

so, being freed of this stress has somehow landed me the freedom to tool around town and do things other than panic like a madwoman.

like model.

you heard me. getting a job has freed me up to find yet another job. One outside my primary area of interest.

and I have to say, it's really, really refreshing to be a model.

you have no responsibilities, other than to show up, put on the clothes, and walk around a little. and sometimes, you don't even have to walk - you can just stand there. You may think "if I jut my hip out...just so...the skirt will drape in a most flattering way..." but you're not wondering "how can I improve my performance?" or "what courses will I have to take in order to keep current?"

even better: I don't have to worry about company dress codes - I just wear neutral undergarments and bring along a black brassiere (in case of a sheer black top - which happens more often than you'd think), and I'm set.

and the best: I get a break from the complications of the real world. I don't have to prove how smart I am, I don't have to be the fast, funny, clever one. I just get to be the pretty girl whose ass looks beautiful in trousers.

it's awesome.

the interview process is incredible - if they pick you, it's not like you *did* anything to be picked, it's just that you look the way they expected someone to look in their clothes.

if you're not picked, you go your merry way - there's no wondering "what did I do wrong? what skills do I need to learn so I can ace the next interview?"

what works for one figure, one stylist, one designer doesn't necessarily work for another...no harm, no foul.

it's just about how you look, nothing less, nothing more. and they can be totally honest with you about it - it's not prejudice if they say "you look great, but you're a little too young for our demographic" or "you're a little too fat to be our size 4 - do you mind if we call you next week for our plus sized line?" or "we were hoping for someone a little more . . . irish . . . would you consider using a bit of henna for us?"

I love it. why didn't I do this before?

no, I don't usually wear torn jeans to work. this isn't a work photo. but it's a relaxed one, ain't it?