DARG

by the way, check out the place we got Poe from. If you ever want to adopt a pet, consider these guys, also if you ever feel a need to buy a bag of pet food for a pet you don't have, these guys would love to take it off your hands. They have a wishlist, check it out.

http://www.darg.org.za/

I've been busy and bored

What can I say, I’ve been busy. Work is taking as much of me as it can get, so I’m left with very little else. Sure maybe I should consider moving on, but I don’t have the time to figure that out right now. Either way, I’ve got a second. I did give up acting. That was the first big thing. I told my agent in tears that I can’t do this crap anymore. Seriously can’t sit around in castings surrounded by people prettier, smarter, better and more suited to this industry than me. I’m not cut out for brown nosing and constant cheerfulness. I can fake it every once in a while, I’m an actress but I get the taste of vomit in the back of my mouth from being that way. I see other people doing it so effortlessly and I wonder why I can’t, but then do I want to become one of those people…uhm…not really. Ja, so there’s that. It feels like I’ve cut off one of my limbs and I have no idea what to do with my life. I’m frustrated and moody ever since but then I’m sure it will get better before long. Doesn’t help that I’m hungry all the time due to a strict diet either. My boyfriend recently pronounced his disgust at the potbelly I developed since I quit smoking. Fair enough I gained weight since I stopped smoking, but it’s a bit of a thing living with someone you love and he thinks your body is kinda gross. Hmmm.

The other thing is we got a new kitten. His name is Poe, and he’s awesome. We got him just as he arrived at DARG where we adopted him from. He wasn’t even taken to a kennel yet, he was signed in and signed out to us. It must have been some kind of record. Gethyn had a vision of this kitten and he suits us very well, he is the perfect little soul for us. I’m going to collect my camera from the repair place now (the same problem with it as before) and with luck I’ll be posting pics of Junior soon.

The rest are all gory details, I have too much regards for my readers to bore you with rage and tears. More soon.

Acantha

Acantha and I have been together for over 11 years. When we first met we didn’t particularly like each other. Don’t get me wrong I like animals, but I thought she was an unnecessary inconvenience to Niki and my carefree studanthood. Someone would have to be around to look after her all the time, pay for all her shots and to have her fixed etc etc. I wiped my hands of her. I told Niki she can keep her as long as she takes care of Acantha and I don’t have to do anything. It didn’t work out that way. Soon enough I fell for her, and I fell very very hard. So hard in fact that when I moved out Niki let her move out with me. She was only about six months old and got knocked up, she had four awesome pitch black kittens, she gave birth to them while she was lying on my stomach. It was a moment. Point is, we were tight. We slept in the same bed, when I was poor, we even ate the same food (we both ate rice). For years she was my best friend, and when I went overseas she was one of the things I missed most. I am one of those people who gets funny about her cat. I have her picture on my phone and on my ipod, everyone knows about my cat and asks me after her health. I moved to Tamboerskloof a while ago, with Acantha of course. After about a year of living in town she started disappearing for a couple days at a time. She’d come in for meals but then leave again. Then she didn’t come back for a couple of weeks and I started freaking out. I made the flyers with her picture on it, took it to all the vets, contacted DARG, the SPCA and put up pictures of her all around the area I live. Then after about three months of this, Acantha jumps through the window like nothing had happened. I was ecstatic. I got her all her favourite things to eat, tried to spoil her rotten. She would come by every once in a while for food and a bit of affection and then she’d leave again. She smelled like someone else’s perfume so I assumed she was spending time with someone else, maybe someone who didn’t work, who could spend a lot of time with her. I felt guilty for not being able to be at home all the time to just spend time with her, but I have to go to work, and the nature of my work is that sometimes I work a lot. So then she stopped coming by the house, at all. It’s been a couple of months now and I don’t know what to do anymore. There was a time when I might have had to move away, and I couldn’t because she might come back and look for me. But nothing yet. I’ve cried and prayed, and asked and waited, but nothing. Gethyn is getting a bit tired of all this. He suggests I move on. He told me she most likely moved in with some old lady with nothing better to do than feed her pilchards all day, but then isn’t that what parents tell their kids when the family pet dies? It moved in with a nice old lady, or it moved to a farm. I don’t know if she’s alive or dead, but everyone around me seems to believe she has died and I should get over it. So now, what Gethyn has suggested is that we get a cat. Perhaps just a way to get me distracted and get me to move on from Acantha, I don’t know. Would it be a betrayal of her to get a cat? I’ve made it very clear that if we do, and Acantha should come back, she will still have to be the main bitch in the house. That is all understood. I am very excited at the prospect of having a cat in my life again, but I still wish it could have been Acantha. I think we will get that kitten, but it won’t be no Acantha.

Ode to my tats

I have three and I love them all. I can’t imagine being without them. They’re not all in fashion anymore or cool anymore, in fact many people have trouble figuring out what the one on my leg is, but I love them. My tats are a way for me to remain me. Even when I’ve been shunted around by people telling me what to wear and how to present myself if I want to get work, I still have my tattoos representing who I really am. When I have to wear floral summer dresses and baby pink nail polish, I don’t feel like I’m betraying the rock fan in me, because I’m still wearing my tattoos. It really opened my wardrobe opportunities. Before I got them I felt I had to wear the clothes of my subculture, which lets face it, doesn’t suit me very well. I’m too short and frumpy to pull off the baggy t-shirt and corduroy pants thing. It didn’t stop me wearing it, but since I got my first tattoo I found I didn’t need to anymore. I can wear whatever I like without feeling like I’m betraying myself. It’s a good thing too, because of what I chose to become when I grow up. Going to castings, or visiting my agent who wants us all to be cookie cuts of each other. They want us all to look like blond, brunette and redhead versions of the same person. Cut your hair, colour it, loose weight, dress differently, wear your make-up like this, smile like that, say things like this, and don’t talk too loud. All that would have bothered me much more. I have had moments when I’m at the gym or having to spend extra time in the morning to try and look nice where I think its utter bull. It is bull, but I suppose its my choice to take that and deal with it, also, you know what, it’s okay, because even while I’m having to do all that crap, I’ve still got my tattoos, and they can’t make me take it off, even if they wanted to. Hehe, the final say is mine.

First Timers

Season is beginning (though some might argue it never really stopped this year) and we are doing a casting for all the new bright young faces in the industry. All the teenagers who want to be models are sitting here petrified, trying to make sure they don’t mess up their hair while they’re waiting, and applying and reapplying their lip gloss. They have moved on from the Tinkerbell’s sticky serum of smell, to their first over zealous attempts at wearing perfume. It’s hard to breathe in here. Typically they come in with mom and dad (and brother and sister and gran and gramps and other curious family members who want to see how it all works) walk through the door, smile and freeze. WTF is clearly written on their face. Panic, fear, disorientation, the floor has just disappeared, gravity doesn’t work, vital signs stop. If their lucky they notice front of house with forms for them the fill in and they start filling in the register. They have to ‘phone a friend’ to remember who their agent is and don’t know what to write under ‘age’. Then another form, with measurements to fill in. AAAHHHHH! Can we borrow the measuring tape? What size pants do I wear. The whole family and entourage get involved and before long, ouma, oupa and tannie all know what size bra the poor teenager wears. Then the sitting and waiting. While all this is going on, I’m getting annoyed, the casting director is getting annoyed, front of house is getting annoyed and the poor ‘new face’ is pooping him or herself.

Let me see if I can help.

Front of House should be your best friend. Smile, flirt, do whatever it takes to get this person to like you. This person can help you move along in the cue and make the waiting experience slightly more tolerable, or they can dislike you and make the whole casting process more difficult for you. You will be asked to fill in forms with your name, agent and sizes and what other commercials you’ve done. Fill it in, no really, fill it all in. If you’ve done no other commercials, then say so, don’t just leave things blank

The quickest way to piss off the people signing you in is to ask them stupid questions. These include but are not limited to, “What is the date today?”, “Do I have to fill this in?” , “Where is the bathroom?” oh and the greatest mistake you can make “How long is this going to take?”. For pissing off the front of house also try showing up half an hour late and then having a fit because they won’t sign you in. Usually we are sworn to turn people away after cut off time, so if you’re late and sign in we get yelled on by a tired annoyed casting director who won’t bother filming you anyway because they want to get dinner.

Before you ask questions to the people running the reception make sure you can’t read the answer somewhere. Like the date, it’s written on the wall in very large letter. The bathroom is at the end of the little path directed with big arrows that say ‘Toilet’. Etc.

When you get in the casting you will most likely do an introduction. This does not include where you went to school, when your birthday is and who your best friends are or that you may enjoy movies and dancing. Say your name and your agent. That is it. Don’t say how old you are unless you’re asked. Then you might be asked for your profiles. Your profiles are the sides of your face. So turn left and turn right. Or, right and left, either way. I’ve heard people panic because they didn’t know they have to bring their profiles. Uhm!?

Try to listen to your casting director. When he/she says to act natural, for pity’s sake act natural. There is no need to start pantomime with song and dance. Less is more. A director can always make you perform bigger, but once he sees you turn your eyes to the mountains and plead for the fabric softener to take out the stains, they bow their heads and pray for the end of the day. Ask questions if you don’t understand or know something. Once the camera is rolling it’s a take, and its work. If you mess up during a casting it needs to be edited, so rather try to get it right the first time.

When you leave, put your sticker with your number in the bin. It’s not difficult. Trust me I’ve done it before. Don’t put it on the wall, or try to give it back to the staff.

I’ll think of more later, but that’s what I’m musing today. Does that make me a bad person?

Me, thirty.

For those who don't know, a guide to turning 30

I have crossed the age border. I no longer tick the 20-30 block I am now classified as 30-40 years old. I may as well be 40. Never mind I have discovered that there are perks after all. Being older has released me from the assumption that other people know better. I went for a facial, and as it goes with these things was bombarded by suggestions of expensive products I need to buy. All good and well, I’ve been through this before at hair salons and beauticians, and I usually give in, believing that my face or hair will in fact fall off if I don’t buy this product immediately, it has been the cause of many dips into my savings. So for my 30th I get a voucher, go for the facial and get told to spend over R 1000 on new products. ‘Bugger that’ my internal monologue goes, ‘I’m not going to have this twenty something year old tell me what to do’. ‘She’s a mere child, and I will not allow myself to be bullied by some upstart’. No thanks I tell her, give her a winning smile, and walk out. Poepsnuiter! It’s a word I have earned the right to use. Anyone who is younger than me, who is pissing me off, or acts like they are the bees knees, will be branded a poepsnuiter. I’m a tannie now, so everyone else gets to be a poepsnuiter.

I failed in many ways. There were things I was planning to achieve by the time I’m thirty and going down my list I am a complete failure. I have made no significant contributions to the world, I have not learned to surf, I have not performed on stages around the world, I have never been in Heat magazine, I have never recorded any of my music, none of my short stories have ever been published, I have never been able to extract tears from my audience with a moving performance and I’ve never won any awards, hell I can’t even get myself cast in commercials for nappies or stain removers. I suck. But on the flip side the pressure is off. I don’t have to try and achieve anything before a deadline. The next significant age I’m going to be is fifty or sixty so I’ve got plenty of time to procrastinate, forget or fail before the next age border. We put so much pressure on ourselves to achieve certain things before this significant age, and I haven’t managed to do it; so fine. Moving along. Next question. What’s for lunch. There is nothing I really need to do right now anymore. Sure I don’t think I’ll stop trying, I haven’t fired my agent, I didn’t burn all my manuscripts and journals, smashed my guitar or stopped working out. The thing is I don’t have a deadline anymore, I can keep doing these things at my leisure.

So my friends for those of you about to reach your thirties, and for those whose ranks I have finally joined, my views and perspective on this significant age. Don’t be scared, but freak out a little if you must, then move an. We’re hitting our quarter life crisis, we’re all allowed to wack out a bit.