Cooking for one.

Getting bored of making sandwiches so I’ve Googled it. Well it seems all ‘cooking for one’ sites are geared towards men, single men, who only eat curry. No matter, all I wanted was a site that could steer me in the direction of something other than toast that requires little cleaning of dishes after the fact. Eating straight from the pot is not below me. It’s a big adjustment to make, going from cooking a nice main meal for me and my man to these weeks (or months) of not having him around and just having to take care of myself and the cat. You know you’re in trouble when the food you’re giving the cat looks better than what you’re eating. Generally I’m not a bad cook, but I’m a cook, not a chef. I cook like a working-mother; I attempt to make healthy food, tasty enough to keep him distracted from the computer, in adequate quantities for my growing man, but nothing that requires hours of preproduction. With only myself to feed however, I become more concerned with the repercussions of my cooking than how it actually tastes. How many things can I cook in one pot? Can I use the same knife I chopped the onions with to eat my dinner? Minimize the dishes, minimize the prep time, and it’s starting to bore me.
The adjustment is always weird when he leaves. And when he comes back. He leaves for work, often with very little notice and without definite dates that he’ll be back. I’m not worried that he won’t come back because the computer he built is still at home with me, but it’s strange going from living with someone who shares a bed with you to not having anyone there at all. When he’s home the flat feels smaller, but cozy, when he’s gone it becomes a huge empty space. A space I have to try and fill. I usually spend the first few weeks with one light on in the entire place trying to come up with ways to feel less alone. I soon realize there’s nothing on tv. A mild depression waves over me. The first things I miss are silly like washing dishes after him, cooking for him, getting annoyed at him for playing computer games all the time. I miss that! Then I start speaking to myself, singing out loud. Then I don’t bother getting dressed after a bath, walk around naked. I don’t bother picking up after myself in the bedroom for week (while usually I’m picking up for both of us) and skip washing the floors. I leave the door open when I’m taking a bath and brushing my teeth, I don’t make the bed. I get into a way of living that exploits the perks of being by myself. In short I start enjoying being alone again. Then he comes home. It’s great, but it takes me a week or two to remember that I really shouldn’t burp out loud anymore and I get a fright when I walk into a room and someone is there. I have to share the affections of our cat with someone else, and start cooking real meals again.
It feels a bit like split personality or living a double life. He’s either there all the time, at home, or not there at all and only contactable electronically when our time zones happen to converge on a convenient time for us both to communicate. It’s schizo. It’s bizarre. It’s all and nothing. It takes getting used to, but for now, it’s life and I can’t wait for him to come back home. I can’t wait to be inconvenienced by him, to wash up after him and even be ignored by him when he’s playing games online. I can’t wait to work all day and then go home and cook a proper meal. This I can’t wait for! I must be in love or something.

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?