(red)chardonnay

iboga

2011-09-11T17:47:00.000-07:00

My friend is an Ibogaine provider in Central America. My guy and I have spent some time with him, learning about what he does and how he helps people. It is a phenomenal world. We spent a few days with post-Ibogaine 'Kevin', and learned a lot. So, meet Kevin and learn a little about the wonders of the Iboga root. Please pass this link on, I wish more people were aware of Ibogaine. I feel like I would have a lot more friends alive - literally and metaphorically - if options such as Ibogaine were public knowledge. Ibogaine is also used for psycho-spiritual treatments, seems like it can do magic for just about anyone.

http://www.ibeginagain.org -- best place to go for more ibogaine information, whether you are looking for info on addiction interruption, psycho-spiritual 'enlightenment', PTSD, or any sort of psychological disorder....

LOVE xxx

By the way, where is the model rehab?

2011-09-10T16:02:00.000-07:00

Well.

I decided I want to be a 'blogger', 'again' - so here we go.

A lot has changed since moving back to NYC all the way back in January. That seems like ages ago, and I guess in a metaphorical sense, it was ages ago. In a shortened version, I moved back to NYC because I was tired of traveling. I was tired of modeling. I had things other than 'being pretty' that I wanted to focus on, and I was searching for stability. Looking back now, it seems idiotic to move back to NYC while in search for a more stable life. I can't believe no one tried to stop me. I can't believe I didn't stop myself, I guess.

I moved back to NYC and immediately signed with a large, well known agency. I thought, why not, I'm here. I told them I only wanted to work well paid gigs, and I didn't want to get sucked into things like fashion week because I didn't fucking care enough. The booker who signed me, who was a friend years before, said, O.K., cool. All was good. I was working almost everyday and I was working rad jobs. And then he left the agency. Before I had time to realize what was happening, I was doing stupid jobs for little to no money and I was all 'signed up' or should I say, 'drafted' for fashion week. I was also miserable. I told myself, I am going to do this and I'm going to do it well. But that didn't happen. Midway through fashion week, after booking my first NYC tent shows and being throughly exhausted, I dropped out. I hated the person it was making me become. It pissed off my agency. Some people couldn't believe I had gone through the hell of fashion week castings, fittings, and even a few shows only to drop out -- but I didn't feel a thing. I didn't feel good and I definitely didn't feel bad, the only thing I knew is that it was the right decision. My agency was upset and after a couple more bullshit jobs I decided to quit modeling. I quit and I felt O.K. about it. I was still fairly isolated, as I had been since moving back. I felt O.K., but restless. I had the whole world to do whatever I wanted with, but all I wanted was something good and simple.

I quit modeling, but I still booked jobs on my own. I was booking jobs I wanted to work, and I was getting paid in cash. Modeling is like an uncontrollable drug addiction that you can't seem to get away from. By the way, where is the model rehab? Does anyone know? I picked up some 'normal NYC' jobs, I dated a couple guys, and I found myself in the midst of a really great group of friends who were not only productive, hilarious, and intelligent -- but psychedelic in a way that I was looking for. This is hard to come by in NYC. I started working daily on 'creative' projects, and for a second, I felt relatively content.

Nothing lasts forever in NYC. NYC works in cycles, cycles of circles. When things are good in NYC, things are really good. But when they are bad, man, NYC is unfuckingbearable. I wanted out. When I moved back, I promised myself I would stick it out through the whole summer, and then decide what I wanted to do. It says something when eight months in a city is what I consider 'a long time' and 'enough time for stability'. I started to realize I had no idea how to live a normal and simple life. It felt like this crazy impossible task. Understandably, I was having a hard time making it through the whole summer. I was looking for every option to get the hell out. And then I met someone. I met someone who is nothing short of amazing and who threw me through some unexpected loops.

To make a long story short, I found myself totally in love super quickly. It was crazy and like every story you hear about but don't believe, or maybe you just scoff at the notion of. I didn't know what to do, as I have found myself in love with the same person for years and years now. But this 'same person' is someone who was never going to pick up and travel the world with me, never going to go out of his way for me. And to be honest, I don't want him to. I always thought he was too talented to waste his time focusing on some girl. But with 'new guy', everything is different. I never wanted to be in some 'committed' relationship, I never thought about leaving Brooklyn 'for good', I never really wanted anything concrete, or, I never knew what I wanted, until I met this guy. As soon as we met, everything just fell into place. Everything worked. I'm not saying I don't miss 'old guy' or that I stopped caring about him. I'm saying that there was a gravity to the situation with 'new guy' that I couldn't ignore, that no one around me could ignore. There were things happening outside of my realm of understanding that would have been 'wrong' to dismiss, the universe was making it impossible to ignore this guy. Ultimately, whatever was and is happening is real, good, and simple. I think that is what I have wanted for some time now, I just didn't think it was attainable.

I am writing this from Guatemala. The guy I am head over heels for is on the roof doing yoga. We arrived here a couple weeks ago. We took a couple short trips - Honduras, Lake Atitlan...and we have a nice homebase that has been relaxing and a break that I needed. We are headed back to the states, Iowa to be exact, in the near future. I'm down here primarily for psycho-spiritual reasons, and for those of you who know me well, you can probably figure out what exactly that means. Only part of our house is covered by a roof, it has been off and on raining all day. There is literally a monsoon about three feet from my laptop, and it's beautiful.

Before leaving NYC, I decided I wanted to travel back to Asia and I also knew that I needed a way to make some concrete money. I stumbled upon a manager who I trust, and this time everything feels right. So, yes, once again, I failed at breaking away from the modeling world. But I'm going to give it one more chance. This time, I'm not trying to climb some ridiculous, never-ending, high fashion ladder. I'm just going to work and see what happens. And I have someone with me that regardless of what happens, I know everything is going to be O.K.

***

Anyway, I promise I am going to keep this 'I am a blogger' thing up. Interesting and hilarious stories are on the way. And for the record, Central America is amazing. Perfect, really.

America, I'm getting bored.

2011-03-09T09:21:00.000-08:00

I have written all these short stories about being back in America, modeling but not loving it, feeling a bit empty and trapped, quitting fashion week, and what it is like to live in Brooklyn. However, I'm not really in the mood to post any of them.

Modeling is draining not because of the actual 'job tasks' but because it takes up all your time. It requires you to always be on call, to always be on the move, to always deal with nihilists, hedonists, narcissists, perverts, addicts, and self-indulgent assholes. It requires you to stop thinking, to do whatever you are told, and most of the time - do things you either feel like an idiot doing, or things you thought you would never do. I guess that can be good or bad. I feel like through the last several years, I have come out of everything more self confident, more independent, smarter, even more well read (way too much 'waiting around time' at my job), and I think I am a better person than when I started in a moral and ethical sense. I seem to have more things I feel that I care about and I seem to have a way better perspective on what matters to me. But I don't feel that this line of work is ever going to satisfy me and I'm not sure that it's downfalls are worth whatever benefits people might throw at me when I talk about quitting.

Lately, the world is looking quite bleak and empty. I don't feel excited or inspired. I keep looking for every opportunity to get the fuck out of this city. I have almost jumped in a few vans headed across the country (and am kind of glad I didn't).

If I had to describe America to someone I would tell them that America is excessive. Everything is too big, everyone eats too much, everyone lives beyond their means. I would tell them that a lot of Americans are completely delusional about their place in the world. From the Evangelicals who judge people for every single damn thing they can, to the Mormons who proxy baptize Holocaust victims, to the people who think they are better than everyone else in the world because they are 'from America', to the people who don't even know that there is another world outside of America, to the nihilists and hedonists who live in places like Brooklyn and make it so damn fucking hard for that person riding the fence on giving a fuck and not giving a fuck to make rational choices/to take care of themselves, to that person riding the fence who doesn't understand that the nihilists and hedonists aren't worth a single real second of their time, to the yoga freaks who get caught up in western ideals, to all my friends and all the people I know who are really fucking talented but have ruined or are ruining any chance in doing anything worthwhile with a fucking needle and a spoon, to the racists and the fag haters and the people with 'morals' who bomb abortion centers, to the animal rights activists who attack scientists' homes and labs, to the bankers who spend money on booze and coke and whores like it doesn't mean a thing, to the people who tell women not to walk alone at night but don't think to tell men not to take advantage of women, I say 'fuck you' to all of you, it's getting really boring. The problem with America, is that everything comes down to a moral battle. You want to run for president? You better make appearances at a church and tell people that your 'relationship with God' is something that you will rely on to run our fucking country. No one talks about the fact that we owe China billions of dollars, that they own our debt, yet everyday gay marriage/abortion/legal marijuana/people like Brandon Davies are gracing the covers of our newspapers. Don't worry about North Korea and China, lets talk about that crazy Christian who walked into a church and shot dead a father who just happened to perform abortions, and lets not just talk about him, lets hear that he 'might have been in the right'. What year is it? No one ever wins a moral battle. People protest and do crazy stuff in Europe all the time, but it's all politically motivated. This is why protesting and acting out is effective in Europe. It's hard enough to win a moral battle with yourself, let alone several with the United States of America. People in Asia just tend to exist and live, and I think they are the ones doing something right. I'm getting bored, America.

The only thing I am positive about right now, the only thing I know for sure, is that I need to make some changes. Moving back here has been harder than I ever could have imagined. It's hard to change what you are use to, what you know, and what you are comfortable with. But it's got to happen, because I'm getting bored.

American, again.

2011-02-13T13:34:00.001-08:00

O.K., so I should probably blog more.

The last time you heard from me I was in London. Since then, I have been to Iowa three times, visited family in Portland, Oregon, flew to Tulum, Mexico for work, and officially moved back to Brooklyn.

Coming back to America was totally crazy. I'm still questioning the move on a semi-regular basis. I'm not sure if this is where I want to be. But there is something about NYC that just grabs you in and doesn't let you go, taunts you with being the 'best' and always makes you think about it when you are away...NYC is essentially that one person we have all fallen in love with who we can't really get over, the one we have to avoid at all costs if we want to officially move on.

Anyway, I got fed up in London. That is essentially what happened. I was tired of working, I was tired of fashion, I was tired of moving, and I needed a break. I hadn't had time off in quite some time. So I went back home to Iowa for some hot meals, full nights sleep, and long hot showers. Iowa was awesome. It was the first time I was truly happy to be back in that place. I flew to Portland, Oregon for a couple reasons. I have a super rad aunt and uncle out there who have a super cute kid I had never met. I also had a super cute boy I missed a lot stopping in Portland for a night on a tour. Seeing family was rad, seeing the boy was perfect. It's weird taking off for long periods of time. I hadn't seen these family members in years, and I hadn't seen this guy in seven months. You kind of keep thinking "am I remembering how I feel about these people?", "what if we don't even get along?", "what if I'm not who they remember me as?" It's nerve-racking. But everything about this trip was perfect. That is, until I got to Brooklyn.

Brooklyn has been full of ups and downs, and mostly just isolating. I seem to have lost interest in most of my 'previous' life here, and find myself blatantly not looking at my phone or meeting up with friends. I need to figure out what I want to do with my life, because I can't sit here in Brooklyn just planning to figure it out for too much longer. But here I am. My first few hours in Brooklyn were pretty crazy. Two things stuck out to me - damn, was it loud! And the people -- people are just so rude in Brooklyn, it's laughable. I found an apartment. I'm taking it day by day.

And then there was Tulum. Mexico was amazing and the definition of everything missing in my life. Being on a beach, in the sun, eating fresh food - that whole lifestyle is what I want, I just don't know how to do it.

I have a feeling everything is going to work out if I can keep it together logically. But I sure do miss Asia.

Anyway, more updates soon that are not so bland and general.

western culture shock.

2010-11-02T15:30:00.001-07:00

My laptop broke and was out of commission for a bit. I am writing this from Manchester, England. Since I last wrote I left Seoul. I flew to London. I have worked in Manchester twice, Norwich, and tomorrow I am headed to Newcastle. I'm going to Brighton on Friday for some crazy Pagan style festival. England is bizarre. Or maybe it's just normal. I'm not really sure.

Arriving in Heathrow was the first time I have experienced a feeling of western culture shock. The previous times I lived in Asia, I either transferred to another Asian place, or I went back to NYC - which was familiar and safe. But this time I flew into the UK. Something that I know, but that isn't completely me. It was English, and it was "English." I remember my first night back in London. I remember thinking "this isn't what I want at all." But also thinking, "WHAT? This part of the world is insane and hilarious." And it was my world, really. I was hanging out with my usual friends. We went to a show, we went to a few pubs, we were strolling through East London and having a good time. We watched indie movies and smoked Marlboro Reds. It was normal, it was what I have always been. But, in recent years, I have been a big advocate of the eastern world. This trip to Korea confirmed that the eastern world is really something I believe in. Something I want in my life. So flying back here, I won't lie, it was rough. I remember going to my corner store and still saying thank you in Korean. I remember being so surprised how cold and rude people are here. It's funny to say that. Compared to the states, people in England are about as fucking polite as it gets. But. Go the eastern world and you hit a whole new world of "nice." Korea did some good things for me. It reminded me that a lot of things I think I care about, don't actually matter, at all. It made me a better person. It slowed me down a bit. Korea made me re-evaluate my life, and realize that I am completely wrong most of the time. It made me a bit healthier, and at the same time a bigger smoker (cigs cost 2 USD in Seoul).

I have convinced myself to have a good time in England. And, I have been having a good time. In fact, a few nights have been completely blissful and euphoric. I want to leave London, but I am not excited to go back to America. I just don't want to go back. I have been gone for a long time. My life that I had there, is incredibly far away from where I am now. The idea of flying into JFK makes me very, very nervous. Anyway. Here I am in Manchester. I am sleep deprived. I am tired of walking in heels. My hair is purple. It is pouring rain outside. Welcome to England. To be honest, Manchester is kind of rad. I like the architecture. It is way better than Norwich. Norwich made me feel like I was back in middle America, and that kind of tripped me out a bit.

It's funny. Seoul seems like this surreal experience that didn't really happen. I went through a lot in a quick period of time. There was a point where I was one hundred percent positive about changing my life around. I was going to leave the fashion industry, I was going to try and stabilize my life. I thought I had met this amazing person who I thought was worth going out of my way for. I thought I didn't care about a lot of things in my life. I still think I don't care about a lot of those things. But I was hit hard when I found out this person was just as bad, if not worse, than anyone I have ever spent time with. In fact, the worst part was how convincing he was. That he lead me on overseas when it was completely unnecessary, because at the beginning, I didn't give a damn. Now I realize, some of these changes would have been a mistake. At the same time, I had experienced a feeling of happiness I had never felt before. And that did change my life. It's something that has completely changed the way I look at things, and I can't go back to the way I looked at things previously. But I am not going to change what I am doing. That was an irrational thought. And the person I was in love before, I'm still in love with now. In fact, more in love with than ever. I didn't even really think this was possible, to be honest. If anything, I have a better idea of things that matter, and things I don't want anything to do with. It was just this brief period of being completely disillusioned with everything around me. I was blind to logic, and that is kind of scary. Asia can do that to a person. It's a magical place. I feel like a lot of it is right on, and needs to be paid attention to. But the reality is that I have to live in the western world, and that requires a lack of magic, and a lot of fucking logic.

Anyway. So I am on this two week job, right? It's kind of like being on tour. Except instead of playing music, I walk down a runway. This morning we were boarding a flight that took us from Norwich to Manchester. We have been taking trains everywhere, but today we flew. Not sure why. The Norwich airport plays a good trick. We get in, we check in, we get ready to go through security. This is when we are told that in order to board the flight, we have to pay five pounds. The five pounds goes towards "redevelopment of the Norwich airport." I mean, can you imagine going to a friend's place for dinner, and when you get there they say, "you can't leave until you donate to our kitchen remodeling?" This is basically the situation in Norwich. Norwich is the worst (if I didn't express that clearly enough before). So. As we are boarding the flight, I make a semi-cynical, sarcastic remark that if our flight crashed we will make headlines everywhere. Because the media, the news - man, they would eat up a plane full of models crashing. This model turns around, and in all seriousness says, Yeah, it would be like when that plane that had the Polish president and entire Polish government crashed in Russia. In fact, it would be a bigger deal than that. WHAT? Are you kidding me?! To be fair, I was impressed she even knew about that crash. But, come on! A BIGGER DEAL THAN AN ENTIRE COUNTRY'S GOVERNMENT DYING IN A PLANE CRASH? You know, I get embarrassed when I have to travel in a herd of models. I feel super self-conscience. I feel like an idiot. But, apparently - some models feel a huge sense of importance.

I miss Seoul. I met some amazing people there. Koreans are some of the nicest people I have ever met. I made some amazing friends. For a brief second, I felt in love and happy. South Korea was a quirky, beautiful country. The things they deal with on a daily basis, are things the western world can't even fathom. The kimchi crisis, the situation with North Korea, armed American soldiers on every block...yet, they have 24 hour shopping markets, crazy Korean pop music, night clubs that put trendy western clubs to shame, nature that doesn't seem real, and the eastern mindset will always (in my mind) top every single western religion and hedonistic, egotistical mindset possible. I had an amazing time breaking every law possible. Breaking into any place possible - whether it was a US military base, a war memorial museum, or jumping into the Han river completely naked at 4:30 in the morning - Korea was crazy and insane and a lot of times made no sense at all. I miss you Asia. But London, you have been O.K., and I can deal with my current state in life. I think.

Watching your back, won't cut you any slack.

2010-09-22T07:53:00.000-07:00

South Korea is always full of surprises.

This week, my roommates and I learned (a tad too late), that we had the week off. This week is Korean Thanksgiving. A major advantage of living in NYC, is how diverse NYC is. New York is a place that functions 365 days a year, twenty-four hours a day. I have spent every single holiday possible in NYC, and never had a problem finding a wide variety of businesses that stay open during these holidays. There are so many people in NYC with different cultural backgrounds, it is impossible for the entire city to shut down all at once. However, South Korea is incredibly homogenous. Everyone celebrates the same holidays. When I heard I had the week off, I was initially excited. There are still a lot of things I want to do here, that I simply haven't had time for. However, it didn't occur to me that everything would close for the entire week. When I say everything, I mean everything. ATMs don't even work this week. This is the reason I say my roommates and I found out about this holiday a little late. If I would have known ahead of time, I would have made a trip to the bank, and made sure I had extra cash. Oh, the joys of being a foreign model in non-English speaking places. Not so glamourous, I assure you.

Not only is everything closed, but we were hit with a huge storm that lasted over four days. So bad, our area (and other areas) flooded. This made a couple of my Korean friends send me alarming messages telling me not to go outside. One of my friends even sent me an email warning me not to take any walks near the Han River. That email made me laugh a bit. Anyway, public transportation was shut down for a bit, and for once, the streets of Seoul were not jammed with cars. However the torrential rain was not fun to walk in when I decided to brave the weather and see if everything really was closed (the answer to that question is that yes, everything was closed). The storm finally broke today, but it's been cold and dark outside all day.

My Polish roommate went back to Poland as she needed to return to high-school. My agency neglected to make sure she had a way to get to the airport. They told her to take a bus, and they gave her a time of when to be there. She made it to the bus stop on time. At this point, it had been raining hard for two solid days. She waited for the bus for a good forty-five minutes. No bus. She borrowed a phone to call one of our bookers, only to find out buses sometimes don't run in the rain. My roommate was paid in American dollars. The holiday had started without any of us knowing. Meaning, no ATMs were working, and no banks were open. The airport is in Incheon, and she didn't have enough Korean won on her to get to the airport. Eventually, one of my bookers showed up drunk to the bus stop. He gave her cash for a cab. However, when she finally arrived to the airport, boarding was closed. She found another phone, and called the same booker. The booker offered her no help, and told her that she had screwed everything up. Keep in mind, this girl turned seventeen two weeks ago. She called her mother agent in Poland. Our booker then responsibly ignored all calls from her mother agent. Eventually, hours later, the owner of the agency picked her up. However, at this point, an email had been sent to her mother agent. This email stated that my roommate had not only gone to the wrong bus stop, but she had left over an hour late for the airport. Now, I have seen her flight itinerary. Our agency had written on the itinerary what time she should leave for the bus stop. The email also stated that she made our agency pay for the cab, even though they had paid her in cash less than forty-eight hours prior to her leaving. Again, they paid her in USD. They also paid her after four PM on Friday. Banks close at four PM, and as soon as the weekend started, everything shut down for this holiday we were never told about. Essentially, the email stated they weren't going to help with this situation at all. They said it was her fault, and she needed to sort it out (and pay for it) herself.

My roommate walked through our apartment door around 3 AM crying. It was heartbreaking. I stayed up late and researched Korean labor laws for minors. I was surprised to find out that females and minors have the same labor laws. Asia can be incredibly progressive and "ahead" in a lot of ways. However, in some ways they are still very, very far behind. However, the law did work in her favor. The law clearly states that any employer who hires a minor (or female), foreign or not, has to cover all home-coming expenses (when the work contract is over). In fact, employers are still responsible for females and minors for fourteen days after the employee is finished working for the employer. I also found out that females and minors are not legally allowed to work more than seven hours a day, or forty-two hours a week, unless they have received written approval from the Ministry of Labor. My roommates and I were pressuring her to send an email to our agency, stating she was aware that what they were doing was illegal. Now, my roommate is the nicest girl on the planet. However, being assertive is not one of her strong points. By morning, our entire agency had left Seoul. They left without saying a word to her. This is what the modeling industry can be like, and it's wrong. It's socially irresponsible, fuck, it's a crime against humanity! Anyway, I went to dinner with a couple of friends. I ran into my Brazilian roommate a few hours later. She informed me that our roommate's mother agent had sorted something out, and that she had to leave in a hurry to the airport. We are still waiting to hear from her. We know she flew into Berlin, and was taking a train to her hometown. This doesn't seem right for a minor who just wants to go home (and needs to be back in school). Not to mention, a tiny minor who could barely carry her one suitcase, let alone both of her suitcases. I am hoping something legit was worked out, and she is not out of a ton of money. We pay a lot of money for a driver, and I don't understand how this doesn't include a driver to the airport. It seems clear to me that our agency screwed up. They had one obligation for the entire weekend and week of holiday, and that was to make sure one of their models made their flight.

Sigh.

If you don't watch your back at all times in this industry, you will get screwed with. If you watch your back at all times in this industry, you will still get screwed with.

I am not a bride. I am a model.

2010-09-14T04:10:00.000-07:00

Castings here are a lot different then they are in the western world. Taipei still tops the list of worst casting procedures of all time. However, Seoul is running in at a close second place. I go to castings with my three roommates and one of my bookers. The booker is there to drive us to the casting, and to translate the castings. Most of the clients do not speak a word of English. We usually have to stand in front of these people in a line. One by one the client will ask us to show them "poses." Essentially, we have to pretend we are shooting right then and there. Each pose needs to be held for a few seconds. Rather then an accurate way of proving I can, in fact, actually model - it feels more like a lame, robotic, objectifying dance.

Bikini castings are some of the worst castings I am required to go to. Recently, I had to walk into a room in a bikini and heels. The room was filled with six Korean men. They were chain smoking cigarettes, and sitting around a table. They all had their super hi-tech phones out, and took photos of me while I showed them "poses." It felt wrong for a lot of reasons. And, surprise, I didn't book the job. However, my seventeen year old roommate is on hold for the job. Something about that feels wrong, as well. Catalog castings are not as objectifying, only because I am not standing in front of groups of men half naked. Catalog castings are mind-numbing. If the client likes a model, that model will end up trying on an endless amount of "outfits", and doing the "pose dance" in each outfit. When this happens, I feel like I am working, except I am not getting paid. Editorial castings are the only castings that are even close to a western casting. Sometimes, the client will just look at my portfolio (in the modeling world, we call this our "book"). Other times, they might ask the models to take a few test photos. And then we have commercial castings. Commercial castings are by far the most hilarious of all castings. In these castings, we are asked to "act", read lines that are barely in English, and do a lot of things that don't make any sort of sense at all. No matter what the conditions or terms of procedure are, all of these castings are a weird experience. This is primarily because the client/s will look and look at me, and then blatantly talk about me in a language I don't understand. So. I stand there. And I feel like a child who is earnestly listening to the adults in the room making jokes that are seemingly funny, but sigh - I'm too young to understand what the hell is actually going on. But, you know, I'll laugh anyway and try to "fit in." It is a bit demeaning and over the top objectifying. But that is my job.

As objectifying as bikini castings are, and as mind numbing as a catalog casting is -- nothing, and I mean nothing, is worse then a wedding casting. We go to wedding castings on a regular basis. I have no idea how it is even possible that there are so many wedding related jobs in this city. At the wedding castings, my roommates and I will sit down on a nice couch in a nice room. One by one, we will climb up on a stage-like platform, usually guarded by an ornate curtain. When we get behind the curtain, we will find a few Korean ladies holding strapless bras, pins, and a huge (and I mean huge) wedding dress. We will strip. After stripping, we will be aided while we jump into the dress. The dress is usually not finished. So, after jumping into the dress, we will wait while the ladies fit the dress to our bodies. Then, the curtain will open. The client/s come into the room. A camera is pulled out. Our booker will tell us what kind of poses the client wants to see. We will do the poses, and feel stupid. Really stupid. We will try to show them profile angles of the dress, but the dress is so big - that we will have a really hard time turning around in it. If the client likes the model, the model might have to change into more dresses.

Usually, I am an automatic "no" for this type of job. No one wants me to represent their bridal line. Besides, obviously, for my physical appearance - this is maybe the one "persona" I can't portray on camera. It just isn't me. Honestly, I don't want anything to do with the wedding world. I put on these dresses and think, "this will never be me." Everything about my attitude and energy screams "not someone who wears huge Korean wedding dresses, or wedding dresses of any kind." The whole wedding world, this is not something I know anything about.

Anyway.

The other day, in the middle of this typhoon, we were stuck at our last casting of the day. It was a wedding casting. The dresses were the most horrendous I have ever seen. I looked at their past advertisements that were plastered in photo albums, and on their walls. I asked my booker if I absolutely had to do the casting. I pointed to the photos on the wall and said, Do you really think I am going to book a job like this? Do you really think the client has any interest in someone like me? I am just wasting time by trying on that dress. Although he did agree with me, he said I had to do it. This is Korea. Breaking procedure is never okay. This is when my roommate said something that cursed the entire casting. My Brazilian roommate then said, You never know what a client is looking for, or likes. Doomed! That was it. The client then decided I was the only one who even needed to try on the dress. She was immediately obsessed with me.

And so yes, tomorrow, I am shooting a wedding editorial. I will spend hours in wedding dress after wedding dress. The client asked to see "strong" poses at the casting. I did my goddamn best not to show her any kind of poses. She still loved me. Tomorrow, I will be forced to "make strong poses" all day while wearing the most frilly of all wedding dresses ever created

You never know what a clients wants. Unfortunately.

***

By the way, check out my Brooklyn roommate's blog. She has been suffering from jet-lag, and busy with settling into this crazy city. However, she typically updates it regularly, and it is a good read.

Also, Sasha is one of the raddest models around. I just discovered that she also has a blog. I was hooked after one post. Check it.

All dressed up like a dead China doll in a Korean wedding gown.

2010-09-12T22:46:00.001-07:00

Seoul. Seoul is....insane.

Koreans are some of the nicest people I have ever met. Also, some of the quirkiest.

Besides eating live octopus, dog, and raw beef for dinner, they also full-heartedly believe that electrical fans are these super dangerous oxygen eating vacuums that under no conditions should be left on while sleeping, because of a fear that they appropriately call "fan death." Wikipedia it, it will make you laugh. Promise.

I live with three super rad chicks. One of them is a friend from Brooklyn, and she is gasp - my age. She is smart and makes films. She is originally from Alaska which makes her instantly about 10x more rad then anyone else. There is an 18 year old Brazilian chick who has more energy and "crazy" in her then any Brazilian I have ever met. She is basically amazing, all the time. She even taught me how to "save" wet cigarettes. Props to Sao Paulo for being way more resourceful then America. And then we have the "just turned 17" (literally) Polish chick. This girl is more innocent then any model I have ever met. She is super sweet, and like most Polish models - smart, with great taste when it comes to pop culture. On Saturday, I woke up and found out she was experiencing her first hangover. Can you imagine? Amazing. She said to me, Shea, I didn't know it was going to hurt this much. Oh man. This is just too classic for words. I think she really decided to push her innocent barriers this weekend, because she moved onto first bender later that day. She didn't make it home until six PM the following night, and I was sitting around the apartment thinking, at what time am I supposed to get worried? Anyway. I have done my best to teach her what a hangover is, and how to cure it - but this girl isn't believing a word I say. You know, just trying to do my part in the world. Not sure if the fashion world is for me, so now I am going for "America's Next Top Role Model."

Cringing at my terrible pun, but moving on.

I got into a lot of "trouble" (I went to college and I regularly read books, I still can't believe this is my life) with my agency a couple of weeks ago. Basically, a guy stopped by our apartment. A guy I know. Somehow my agency found out. Apparently, this is against the rules. And breaking the rules in Korea, is like trying to burn a bunch of holy books on 9/11 in America. It just isn't okay. It doesn't matter why or how or what rule. Honestly, it could be a life or death situation. But breaking "the rules" is breaking the rules here. Now, I am literally being fined thousands of dollars, and working knowing I am probably not making a dime. But. The guy was cute. And. One of the only things I am good at is breaking rules. So, this is all unfortunate, I know - but I am aware of how low the shock value of this story is. The next part of the story, is also just as predictable. The guy wasn't just cute, he was amazing. My relationship life is beyond boring, and I know none of you want to hear about it. Don't worry, I will break it up really quickly. He was super cute, which made me want to hang out with him. Turns out he is also super amazing. This made me totally fall for him. Skip forward a few weeks, he moved back to Canada. I'm not sure who gets out of Canada, and then decides to return. That part still confuses me (Canadian friends - I'm definitely kidding, love you all). But this is the actual, real story of my life. Needless to say, I'm growing tired of it.

The traffic here is the worst I have ever seen. I know I keep complaining about it. But try sitting in a car for one entire day here, and then try picturing that as your existence on this planet. It is brutal. There is bad traffic twenty four hours a day. The mind-blowing part is that no one seems to care. In New York, cars honk their horns, and yell at people for the most minor of inconveniences. And it works. Traffic isn't that bad. You get to where you need to go, about when you need to get there. Damn, New York City - I miss you more then ever. Anyway. Here, it is like it is against the rules to get upset or honk your horn. We have spent days and days drenched with rain because of some typhoon. The other day, in the middle of all the rain, we got stuck in a traffic jam in a tiny alley. We all watched while every driver of every car decided to get out and wander away from their cars. Some walked into restaurants, some just wandered off. Some of them even left their doors wide open. Yes, in the rain. I felt like I was stuck in an ant farm, and there was no way out. My Brazilian roommate almost lost it and screamed things like, In Sao Paulo, there would be blood on the streets if this happened for even a second! My friend from Brooklyn and I quickly agreed this would never go down in any "real" city, and then we pulled out the video camera and caught it all on film. Coming soon. I promise.

Still, Seoul is rad. I can't help but kind of love it. If I could change two things about my life here, I would change my food situation (damn, being vegetarian is IMPOSSIBLE), and please, please, please - I don't want to try on another Korean wedding dress EVER again.

ex-oh.

doesn't get more korean than this.

2010-08-23T03:46:00.001-07:00

I am loving Seoul.

I lucked out with roommates. Living with two super sweet, smart chicks. Young? Hell yeah, but there is young and then there is young. These girls are rad. My agency has been super nice and helpful. I am working nearly everyday. It is hard to complain, honestly.

Being vegetarian is difficult. The options are there. But they aren't everywhere. It is expensive, and it takes a trip. I can't just eat meat-free wherever and whenever I want. Even kimchi is usually soaked in shrimp sauce. However, when I do find food - damn, it is good. And spicy. Korean food in America isn't even Korean food.

Seoul is crazy. The architecture is insane. The city is composed of super large streets, ten lanes wide, lined with the craziest buildings, ever. It looks like what everyone thought the future was going to look like back in 1970. Lots of silver. Behind all the big roads, are TONS of tiny alleys that twist and wind, go up and down. These roads are older, the buildings are smaller. They are rad because of how disorganized they are. There are no sidewalks. They are all one lane. But. Pedestrians walk the roads, and cars are able to drive both ways. I have no idea how it works, but it does.

I have to sit in a car all day while I go to castings. Some of the worst traffic I have ever seen, and at all hours of the day. Pollution is bad. However, the streets are sparkling clean. So is public transportation. This is crazy to me, because I rarely see trash cans. It is even illegal to throw cigarettes on the ground. And because I am in Asia, people follow the rules. Meaning, there are no cigarettes on the ground!

Models are nicer in Asia. I don't have a theory for it, they just are. There are a lot of Brazilians here, and I love hanging out with Brazilians. One of my roommates is Brazilian. Eighteen. The other chick is seventeen, and from Poland. For whatever reason, I really like Polish girls. They have proven to be incredibly smart, cultured, and mature girls. Anyway. Back to South America. Brazilian models are hilarious because they say things like this, Parties are cool. After parties with drugs are cooler. That is their attitude. They don't care. They just want to have a good time, and everything is all-okay, all the time. They aren't trying to be anything they are not. I can deal with that.

I am a way better person here. Been going to Buddhist temple sessions, hiking, exploring night markets, taking walks along the river, going to yoga, etc. I feel good. Korea is one of the most homogenous nations on the entire planet. However, I have been fortunate enough to meet a lot of rad foreigners (as most people don't speak English). In fact, I have been asked out on more dates (by hot foreigners) in the last couple of weeks, then in the last decade all over the entire world. I have also randomly met several Koreans who have taken me to dinner, shown me around, and taken the time to teach me about Korean customs. Koreans are the nicest people on the planet, and Korean kids couldn't get any cuter.

Tomorrow I am shooting a Samsung commercial. I am memorizing the script right now. As I mentioned, not very many people speak English. In fact, my first week here was incredibly disorienting. Menus and signs are never in English. If I stop someone on the street, or an employee in a store - they aren't going to speak English. Naturally, the script is barely in English. For example (an excerpt), Lets start with the design of ST100. This stylish camera is a life style (yes 2 words) gadget for the stylish prestige segment. This is going to be amazing. It just doesn't get more Korean than this.

Annyeounghaseo (spelling?!?!)

2010-08-16T06:08:00.000-07:00

So.

I left Milan. Went to a London for a few weeks. Mainly vacation. Hardcore not doing anything style. London has grown on me. I like how diverse the city is. I really like my friends there. Several friends from Brooklyn passed through London while I was there. This was greatly needed, as I haven't been home in quite some time. But, still. London is damn expensive, and the weather sucks. I needed a change from Europe. Milan was all right. I seemed to like it more then the average person. But I did get tired of it after 7/8 months.

Now I'm in Seoul. What can I say - it is amazing. Been here almost a week. Some cities are an acquired taste. Taipei, Los Angeles, and London are good examples. Some cities I fall in love with the second I walk out of the airport. New York City, Hong Kong, and now Seoul fit that category perfectly.

I have been hiking, going to temples, eating out with Koreans who want to practice their English, shopping, and hanging out with lots of Brazilian, Polish, and a few American models. Castings are (as expected) bizarre and weird. Trying on wedding dresses (a first for me), standing around in a bikini...and again, I am stuck in a car with my roommates while headed to these castings. Traffic here is a nightmare, and this obviously drives me crazy.

Anyway. I have so much to say -- but unfortunately, no time. You'll just have to wait.

almost 8 minutes of shameless self promotion....

2010-06-27T18:01:00.000-07:00

I thought all the issues at the model apartment (hot water, internet, washing machine, doorbell, phone, etc.) were exclusive to the building/apartment itself. I was wrong. At my new apartment, we pay for a "maid", but she hasn't shown up for two weeks. No explanation, no "heads up" - just hasn't shown up. My roommates and I suffered for three days this week without hot water. To be fair, this was way more of a nightmare in January and February. However, it is frustrating to know you are paying for something, something that costs a lot, and then to have that something appear to be non existent. In most places, the solution to these problems is just a phone call away. In Milan, there are no solutions to anything. My roommates are Italian, so this is not a language issue. In Milan, everything is impossible because the entire city is tied up stealing from each other, and indulging in criminal behavior. For real. Anyway. The internet at my new apartment has been a disaster. I apologize for the lack of posts (that I am sure brighten and inspire each and every one your - yes that means YOU - days). Our internet still isn't working properly, but I think I might have a window of fifteen minutes or so before it shuts down again (I already have my next post sorted out in my head - you will be hearing from me soon).

I am currently shooting with my roommates (and on a late dinner break). If I wasn't, I would enlighten you - my readers - with a real post right this second. I live with a photographer and a fashion designer. Can you imagine a better trio? You would think we get lots and lots done (creative wise), and sometimes we do. Basically, they use me every chance they get. So I guess we are productive, but in the classic disorganized artist way. For example, we were scheduled to shoot at seven PM today. We didn't start until one AM. And now it is three AM, and we are taking a break to make dinner. The amount of time I spend jumping into their projects after they have procrastinated until the last second should give me free rent, or something.

On a different subject, I am a big fan of shameless self promotion. Let's be honest, I am the only person 100% watching out/taking care of myself, (let me say this - I can be a giant's handful). Promoting myself is one of the only ways I know how to get ahead. So. Until I can get a real post written, I'll leave you all with a couple me-centric items. First, a video that was released last month through Fashion TV. I had no access to it until a week ago, when someone took the time to upload it to Youtube. Get ready for almost eight minutes of a camera following me around for an afternoon in Milan, and me talking about myself. Second, a feature on the website Vevant - interview style.

*** Hmm....can't seem to upload the hard copy of the video, so you'll have to click on the Youtube link. Which is good for me, as the original was through FTV - meaning there are no hits on this link, and that makes me look LAME.

Fashion TV feature....

Also, Vevant posted a feature on me yesterday. Interview included.
Vevant front page feature, "Model of the Moment."

Until next time....
x LOVE FROM MILANO

IF YOU HAVE A PET --

2010-06-04T08:58:00.000-07:00

Well. I *might* have found a legit room. Here is to hoping it works out. A friend of a friend has a free room in a decent neighborhood. Going to check it out this weekend. Knowing people, knowing Italians, is the only way I can see finding an apartment in this city. Only way to possibly find a place that doesn't cost WAY too much, and is legit.

So. I spent some time ranting in transient culture about apartment hunting being literally impossible. The first (and only) twenty responses I received came from people who claimed they couldn't physically show me the "available" apartment. Their excuses ranged from tragic sob stories (sick nannies, stuck in a wheelchair, etc.), or because they lived somewhere in Asia, like China. These people would then tell me they needed me to WESTERN UNION THEM THE RENT AND DEPOSIT. They claimed that once they had received my cash, they would "mail" me the keys. I spent about two weeks contacting people about apartments. After two weeks of NO legitimate responses, I gave up. I had posted an ad on an apartment rental site that had been recommended to me by a friend who had lived in Milan for eight years. I haven't taken the ad down. I assumed that like Craigslist, ads have an unwritten life span. Once the "life span" has been lived, who would take the time to read or respond to the ad?

Once again, Milan is crazy. Rules - unwritten or written - don't exist here. Which brings me to - someone DID take the time to respond to me today. Usually, the internet scammers take a few emails to reel their potential victims in. They don't spring the Western Union bullshit on the victim, until they know the "renter" really wants the place. Until they feel that they have dragged the person along enough -- that the person will probably take anything. I am assuming they are hoping that the potential renter is on a limited time schedule. If they drag it out over a few days, the person might be desperate enough to take anything. Might be desperate enough to NOT over analyze their crazy excuse as to why they can't show you the apartment, introduce you to a landlord, etc.

Admittedly, after I had received a handful of emails from these scumbags trying to scam me -- this email thing almost became a game. I expected every single response to be the same (and every response WAS the same), and I had a little bit of fun stringing them along, calling them out on living in China, or needing a Western Union transfer, etc. - before they sprung it on me themselves. Again, after a couple weeks, I just gave up on the whole damn thing.

But today. Man, today. This person just wins on being an idiot. I don't even have words for what I received today. I am just going to post it. Keep in mind: I have never contacted this person. I am assuming they found me on this apartment search site. So, here you go readers: posted below is the email I had waiting for me this morning in my inbox. I am copying and pasting the entire thing word for word. This is the first email I have ever received from this person. I never expressed interest in their "apartment." This came out of nowhere. Ready for this?

***

Good Day i saw your advert in easystanza, i am the owner of the house you are making inquiry of...Actually I resided in the house with my
family, my wife and my only daughter before and presently in West Africa for Agriculture Development UN. Presently my house is still available for rent for €400(rent already includes utilities). More so Now, I'm currently in West Africa for Agriculture Development UN. Please i want you to note that i spent a lot on my property that i want to give to you for rent, so i will solicit for your absolute
maintenance of this house and want you to treat it as your own, It is not the money that is the main problem but i want you to keep it tidy all the time so that i will be glad to see it neat when i come for a check up.I also want you to let me have trust in you as i always stand on my word. 3 bedroom home, living room with satellite / cable TV, high speed internet access available, washing machine. 3 bedrooms, 3
bathrooms. and a large living room with appliances, wall ovens. Large individual safe storage room, dining room.close to school and shops,
etc...

* 3 bedrooms
* 3 bathsroom
* 2 car garage Property Information
Area information: Over 1700 square feet.
Terms and conditions:
Monthly rent: €800 Utilities
Deposit: €400
Rental min: 1 month +
maximum rent: 4 years +
Address: Via Voghera 14 - Milano
It is close to air port and Milano 50.00 KM, ... STAZIONE
CENTRALE 1.00 KM, Milano CITY CENTER 1.00 KM.

SO IF YOU ARE REALLY INTERESTED I WILL WANT YOU TO FILL THE RENT
APPLICATION FORM BELOW.

RENT APPLICATION FORM.

FIRST NAME:__________?
MIDDLE NAME:__________?
LAST NAME:__________?
PROFESSION:__________?
PHONE:
(CELL)PHONE__________?
(WORK)PHONE__________?
(HOME)PHONE__________?
KIDS _____ (YES/NO), HOW MANY ________
PRESENT ADDRESS: _____________________
CITY: _______________
STATE:______________
ZIP CODE: ____________
HOW LONG? ___________IF RENTING
WHY ARE YOU LEAVING__________?
IF THIS HOUSE IS BEING GIVEN TO YOU,
HOW LONG DO YOU INTEND STAYING? ____________?
WHEN DO YOU INTEND MOVING IN? ______________?
IF YOU HAVE A PET,
NAME OF PET: _____________?
KIND OF PETS: _____________?
HABITS
DO YOU SMOKE ______________ ?
DO YOU DRINK ______________?
DO YOU WORK LATE NIGHT? ____?

Looking forward to hearing from you with all this details so that i
can have it in my file in case of issuing the receipt for you and
contacting you...Await your urgent reply so that we can discuss on how
to get the document and the keys to you,please am giving you all this
based on trust and again i will want you to stick to your words,you
know that we have not seen yet and only putting everything into Gods
hands,so please do not let us down in this our property and God bless
you more as you do this... The house is available for rent at the
moment so you are free to move in as soon as you wish to...A Deposit
of €400 (which happens to be the security deposit) is required before
moving in....The house will be available for rent for a period of 4+
years so you have a choice of deciding how long you intend staying
there...

God Bless,
Amy Crosby

***

I will admit that I was initially impressed with the emails I was receiving, only in the sense that they were relatively well written (in contrast to the above example). The emails didn't initially scream "scam." Most of the emails were very general, but basic "trying to rent my place out" emails. The sketchy stuff wouldn't appear until at least the third email. The only thing that struck me as "weird" in the initial email responses was the lack of desire to talk to me on the phone. However, because I am in Italy, it was almost a relief. I initially assumed (with the first response), that the person probably didn't speak great English. I even thought that *maybe* they had used Google Translate, or something. I only thought this, as I had used Google Translate to contact a few people I had found on my own. However, if they had needed to talk to me on the phone, I would have been at a loss. BUT THIS CHICK, WHOA. I need to know -- does this actually work on anyone? And who??? This email is just too damn good. RENT APPLICATION FORM?!?!?! That alone made my morning.

Too funny. Italy: watch out for the scumbags.

RIP Eileen Cheney

2010-06-03T10:17:00.000-07:00

This was written on the 30th of May 2010. Thought I would post it.

Traveling as an occupation is a bizarre life. I meet a lot of people I connect with immediately, and a month later - they are gone. I constantly get updates from people who I consider great friends, but I haven't actually seen them for years. Constantly meeting people. Constantly saying goodbye. The first two weeks in a new place are always the most alienating. Not necessarily the hardest, those weeks come later at random times, but definitely the most weird. The most out of place. And sometimes, also the most magical. But not necessarily the hardest. Things get hard when you hear someone's voice, see something that makes you feel nostalgic, or hear about something so far away that there is nothing you can do about it. Maybe the hardest is when you hear about something so late, just because you are so far away - that is when you realize how removed you are. That what you thought was yours, doesn't exist at all.

Last night I was watching the highly anticipated two and a half hour Lost finale a week late. I was about twenty minutes from the end, when I noticed a new email from my mother, titled "Eileen." Eileen Cheney is basically family. I grew up with her, her son, and the rest of her family. She was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago. I saw her briefly about a year and a half ago. When someone has cancer, death is obviously a logical ending - but still, I have never known anyone to die from cancer. Zack* has cancer, and he has seemingly beat it. Sam* has cancer, and he seems to be doing all right. I don't know anyone else with cancer. I don't know a single person on this fucking planet who deserved cancer less then she did.

Eileen, aside from my grandmother, is the best person I have ever met. I use "best person" because I don't know any other way to describe her. Always happy. Always positive. Always smiling. Just a fucking good person, with a good family, who has never done anything wrong, or harmed anyone. There aren't many adults from my childhood/teenage years that I can say had a positive effect on my life. Most of them treated me like I had DNA from Satan himself, and had no chance in the world. Adults were constantly calling my parents to make complaints, guilt tripping me into thinking I was going to hell, and in general - treating me like shit. So the very few people who did have a positive impact - those people mean a lot to me. The people who didn't judge, who just cared, who somehow didn't believe I was as awful as everyone made me out to be. Although to be fair, I was kind of awful.

Eileen even kept in contact with me after I ran off to New York City. Her son Ben was always a good friend of mine growing up, and her son David and I were in life drawing classes together for a couple years - which was an unusual bond, as Mormons taking nude drawing class wasn't exactly an everyday occurrence.

There isn't a single person who has met Eileen, who will have any lesser words for her. She made a positive impact on everyone she met. Something about her whole vibe, her stance, and her smile.

So anyway. I get this email when I am twenty minutes away from the end, the actual end, of Lost. I saw the subject, and I knew what the text would read. But I still had to open it. Even when you know something is coming, doesn't mean you know how you will react. Even if you know how you will react, doesn't mean anything is okay.

I don't like feeling sad, and I don't like saying goodbye. I don't like not having the opportunity to say goodbye, either. I wasn't really feeling the last twenty minutes of Lost, but after grieving for a bit, I felt like I needed to distract myself.

Eileen, you will be missed.

*names have been changed

transient culture

2010-05-29T04:28:00.001-07:00

I remember being fourteen. I was sitting in Spanish class reading the New York Times. I opened up an article in the "arts" section, and read a detailed account of some "hip" art opening. The photos alone were enough to impress a young girl living in the middle of nowhere America. I had a brief encounter with "art" when my family moved outside of DC the year prior when my dad took a six month job with the USDA. Since returning to Iowa, I found myself hating the place. I remember saying out loud to my friends, "I am going to move to New York City." I said this weekly until I actually did move to New York. In fact, everyone said something to a similar degree - whether it was NYC, LA, Portland - wherever. Everyone wanted to get out.

My ideal city was fairly typical for the average "oh-so-repressed" kid in middle America. I wanted culture, freedom, art, music - I wanted a place with what kids who don't know anything call "urban culture." I remember moving to New York City with the idea that I would stay for one year, and continue to move around...maybe San Francisco, Portland...wherever. I didn't know I would get there, and never want to leave. I didn't know that five years into living in New York City, all I would want to do is find ways temporarily out - but ways out where I could still say I was "from Brooklyn." Because in New York, I am "from the midwest", but as soon I as set foot overseas, I have the right to say I am from quite possibly the best city in the entire world.

So I started traveling. Taipei was too foreign and removed to stay in forever, London was a super expensive rip off of New York, Germany is too quiet, Paris is currently a nightmare work wise, Hong Kong wasn't conducive to my career, LA didn't charm me enough, and my Barcelona agency is only for direct bookings. I find myself not impressed with anything. So here I am five months into Milan, and technically - I am kind of here indefinitely. I have kind of decided to base myself here. Part of this is obviously due to the amount of work I get here. It makes sense career wise. However, if the same would have happened in London, I don't know if I would have stayed. Milan is different. It isn't vibrant. In fact, it is all gray. The city is full of the two things I hate most - banker culture, and high fashion industry people...oh, and models, and did I mention euro trash? Euro trash -- everywhere. Lets make that the four things I hate most. People actually don't speak English, and I am not picking up Italian anywhere near quick enough. Nothing makes sense here. Nothing is easy here. This city is one chaotic mess. Everyone is quite possibly a criminal, and everyone will try to rip you off. Sports mean something here that I can't even comprehend. Good music isn't even an option, it just doesn't exist. Art is okay, but not great. Being vegetarian is hard, and I have found one - yes, one - boutique I like to shop at. Yoga is in Italian, and the yoga that is primarily my practice isn't even offered in the damn city. Italian men are parasites. Absolutely disgusting. Biggest turn off of, ever. I have very few people I consider friends, and most of them - if not all - are people I wouldn't be friends with outside of this city.

But I guess I kind of identify with this city. It is spastic, crazy, and disorganized. A little bit sketchy, but relatively safe. But underneath all of that -- it is quite charming.

Finding an apartment in New York City is an absolute nightmare. I have been saying for years that someone needs to do a documentary on some midwest kid who has three days to find a place in middle of nowhere East Brooklyn. Craigslist is your only option -- besides maybe friends, and the deposit situation is nothing but horrendous. You have to settle for conditions you never imagined yourself in, and still - you are paying triple what your parents pay back home for their house with a yard, and tons of windows - water pressure in the shower. A couple of weeks ago, when my apartment went from four models to eight models in about three days, I decided I had enough. I just had to move out. And how hard could it be? It couldn't possibly cost more then NYC, and craigslist seems like a universal option that works the same everywhere - language issues, aside.

And again, Milan wins in just completely blowing my mind away. Finding an apartment is actually impossible. Not NYC impossible, where you want to jump out a window for a few days, but you do find something, and everything does work out - actually impossible. I contacted a friend who had lived in Milan for years. She gave me three websites to check out that she said were legit for apartment searching. I also used craigslist. The first twenty, and I am not exaggerating here, TWENTY places I contacted responded to me very quickly. Oh yes, they responded. They would hold my interest for a few emails, until email number four or five. That is when they would tell me they live in China, and can't show me the apartment. That if I want the place, I need to western union them the cash, and they will MAIL me the key to the apartment. All twenty. Every single damn one had some story, most of them claiming to live in China.

I can only imagine that so many people would be trying to pull this scam off -- only if they had previously succeeded in getting money out of people this way. It is like douche-bags with lame pick up lines, those pick up lines have to work on someone, or they would have given up awhile ago. So the question is - who are these people that fall for this kind of stuff? So I do some Google searches and find TONS of people who claim to be victims of Western Union scams. But I still couldn't figure out who these people were. I mean who actually falls for this bullshit? And then one of my roommates who was also looking for an apartment shows me a few emails she had received, and wanted to know if I thought they were legit or not. It was the same bullshit I had received, but when I told her -- absolutely not legit, she didn't believe me! She then showed me an email from someone claiming to be in a wheelchair, and using it as an excuse as to why he couldn't show her the apartment (and why she had to send him money using WU). She said, "but come on - this guy is in a wheelchair - he can't be lying!" So there was my answer. People who don't know anything. Young girls who are traveling and desperate. People who are uneducated, who don't read the news, who believe anything they read....basically, my world - the people I am surrounded by, these are the people who fall for these scams. My roommate said to me, "but won't you have a receipt for sending the money, that is like proof, right?" Whether or not the exchange of money was legit, it hadn't even crossed her mind that none of these apartments even exist. After days of arguing about it, she finally believed me. And a couple weeks later, we both still haven't found an apartment. I finally did receive one email from a real estate agent - but they were asking for three months deposit, not counting first month rent, and considering I am taking the month of August off, it seemed too ridiculous.

Milan is crazy. Italians are crazy.

herding cattle

2010-05-10T06:37:00.000-07:00

More and more models have been moving to Milan. This means half of my castings have a minimum of an hour wait. It also means I show up to these places, and have to stand around with about 200 girls and guys in hallways, on the street, staircases, roofs, etc. For the most part, I don't mind castings. But when I start to feel like a scrappy farm animal, waiting in a herd of other farm animals - you know, for some farmer to decide which animal is the best for slaughtering and then eating - yeah, I start to mind castings. I'm not patient, and I know this. But I have ways of dealing with my impatience, and those ways are useless when surrounded by hundreds of self-obsessed, fashion-obsessed, "I couldn't read a news article if my life depended on it" creatures. And male models. I mean, when I am surrounded by these people, and the majority are 14 year old girls from the middle of nowhere Eastern Europe...it is like, O.K., what should I expect? But throw in a bunch of 25 year old guys, and it doesn't make much sense. I am aware I am generalizing here. I have friends that are models. They are smart, funny, cultured, and amazing. And, I have decided to do this for a living for a number of obscure reasons. But stereotypes exist for a reason, and those reasons definitely exist. There is a reason people assume models are complete idiots, and lifeless human beings with no character. Luckily, there seems to always be an exception to the rule. And that is what keeps me going.

since the last time we talked...

2010-05-09T09:17:00.000-07:00

It is has been forever. I know. Not going to offer any sort of explanation. Sometimes I write, and sometimes I have other things going on. I am going to attempt to keep this thing updated. But hey, I say I am going to go to yoga everyday, and sometimes it just doesn't happen.

London grew on me. But it grew on me because of the people. The actual city I found rather depressing, expensive, and difficult to live in. It is like a colder, more expensive, and all together worse version of New York. My British friends will hate me for saying all of that. I have never seen a country full of people who are so goddamn proud to be there. Anyway, I would rather just live in Brooklyn. I guess I don't really get the point of London. However, after leaving London, and moving to Italy - I find myself missing London - so, there you go. My favorite part of London, is how diverse it is. I feel like it is far more diverse then any city in America. The guys are also super cute. I had been seeing this super hot Rastafarian there for some time. He had 8 kids, yes 8, and our moral/political beliefs were radically different....but damn, he was hot. Everything was cool - until about a month ago. I went to London to visit/work. He told me I couldn't speak unless I was spoken to - as I was a "woman." Preached to me about how he was a "king," and mentioned that all homosexuals should be "beheaded." That was basically it. He then dropped me off in the middle of Manor House late on Easter night. I had no idea where I was, and found out the next day that some chick was stabbed to death right where he dropped me off - twenty minutes after I got out of his car. It is really too bad, because as I said - he is REALLY good looking.

So. Yeah. I went back to Brooklyn for a little less then a month. Had the most depressing Christmas of all time. Admittedly, I don't put much weight into holidays, and haven't in the last six or so years. I like going to the diner by myself on Easter or Thanksgiving, sleeping in on 4th of July. It IS depressing, but depressing in the way that is kind of good, and always good for a story. I kind of always wanted to have that one Christmas where I am totally alone, ordering Chinese food, smoking cigarettes...but this Christmas wasn't exactly like that. Christmas Eve wasn't fun at all. It is NYC. So there are tons of people like me, who are orphaned on Christmas. And they all spend it one way. On the lower east side, drinking whiskey. I wasn't really in the mood and found myself home alone downloading The Wire by 9 PM. I was stuck in a huge, empty warehouse with a dog that surprisingly had worms (tons and tons of worms). The heat wasn't exactly working (meaning, not working at all), and it was damn cold. The snow was so bad, I was literally stuck inside the apartment. The one time I did manage to get out - I left my keys behind, and found myself locked out...trying to break into my studio through a window (nailed shut window), and a new lock system that I wasn't accustomed to. Luckily, a super cute guy came to my rescue around 5 PM on Christmas Day, and my evening was quite all right.

Anyway. A couple weeks later I was signed to an agency in Milan, and on a flight out of JFK. It was a depressing day as it was cold and raining. I left myself about 15 minutes to pack. Said goodbye to the cute guy, and the few friends I hadn't completely hid from in my short time back to America, all to get stuck on the runway for 4 hours, and then stuck in the Brussels airport for over a day. I did finally make it to Milan, only to find out I was sharing a room with a 15 year old, and an apartment full of girls who *hated* Americans. The 15 year old turned out to be smart, and we became friends quickly. But that doesn't mean I haven't had my fair share of crazy model roommates. Of course, when it comes down to it - I would rather deal with the bitchy, crazy chick - then someone who is just an idiot, someone who doesn't know anything. We had a girl who as of mid-February, had never heard of Haiti. In fact, she thought "Haiti" was a person. That same girl was mesmerized by grilled cheese, as she had no idea how one could make cheese melt (when I told her I cooked it in a pan, she thought the pan was "magic" - couldn't connect the use of the stove). We had another girl who blamed every misfortune in her life on me (i.e., the hot water issue in the apartment). She told another girl in the apartment she hated Americans as, they are all so stupid. I mean, they all think Brazil is in Africa. I celebrated for a week after she moved out. The apartment housed some super unstable chicks. Crazy fights with boyfriends, girls who get wasted every night...oh yeah, thieves. We have had girls who steal money and groceries. And most recently, a girl who told my agency I have been "vomiting" after all my meals (for those of you who don't me, yes, I eat, and I haven't thrown anything up since I quit drinking).

Of course, with all that craziness - goodness is also around. I have two roommates who I love dearly, and who have been around since day one. We help each other stay sane and focused, and everything is always at least good for a laugh. But models are models, and no matter how much I like the chick - I find myself caught in WAY too many conversations about shoes, designers, and of course, models. I keep telling myself that this is better then hearing about the latest O.D. case in Brooklyn, and that it is of course, always good for a story. Been writing a lot on my own, for personal projects, and let me tell you - the stories never stop.

Milan has treated me well. I have been able to work a bit around Europe, which I have always wanted to do. However, cities are all starting to look relatively the same. I mean, whether I am in Germany, France, England, or Italy - parks are doused with syringes, homeless people need change, models are getting lost on their way to castings, Egyptians are making perverse remarks when I walk by them...and it is all relatively the same. Of course, the architecture is sometimes different, and sometimes better or worse to look at then the previous place. And as much as everyone puts down Milan - besides for the MAJOR lack in date-worthy guys, I really like it here. It is disorganized, a bit manic, and totally crazy...but underneath all the confusion, all the gray...it is also quite charming. As far as work goes, it has been my best market. My agency seems to get me, as do the clients. Health wise, I am healthier here then I have been in any Western city. So that has to say something.

Public transportation in Milan is a joke. I walk as much as possible. I can't find the patience to wait and then sit on the tram*, yes TRAM (!!!), and considering there are only three metro lines - the metro isn't all that helpful. In fact, last week I was getting on the metro around 945 AM. As I was waiting for the train to arrive, I caught a glimpse of three junkies banging it up on the train platform, ON THE TRAIN PLATFORM. Never seen anything like it. On my way back from the appointment, maybe around 11 AM, I got off at the same stop and witnessed a guy (did he HAVE to be black, I mean, come on) who attacked a metro employee with a knife, and basically cut off his nose. Milan is crazy. I NEVER see police. The complete opposite of NYC and London. It is impossible to get arrested here. Cops are paid off, when they do make an appearance, and everyone in this city has the potential to be a criminal.

It is raining today. There is a carnival on my street. I wanted cotton candy, and my roommate wanted sour candy. We walked through the rain looking, and only found stands selling cheese and sausage. Welcome to Milan. Anyway. That is all I am going to write for now. More specific updates soon, but thought I would get the "since the last time we talked" update out of the way.

*The trams in San Francisco were actually shipped from Milan years ago. Milan still uses the same trams, and I don't think San Francisco has updated their system, either.

you have to be kidding me with this ketamine phenomena.

2009-10-14T13:22:00.000-07:00

I am going to try and start updating this again. It is something that at least kind of makes me look I am okay and fine and not too depressed. People who have blogs should update them regularly. That makes sense to me, so I am going to start doing that. I am not depressed, don't worry. Actually, I just moved to London. I was a little bit immersed with UK culture over this summer. Two of my roommates were from London, and one of their best friends was always over. I still remember all the times over the summer we were doing something definitely not legal, but got out of it by pulling the foreigner card. My roommate Richard would look every police officer in the eye and only respond, "I am from the United Kingdom." He said it with this sense of authority that made everyone back off without even issuing us a warning.

I had a good summer, and as much as I would love to post about it on here - I'm saving it all for a novel I have been working on. Besides, most of it involves incredibly illegal behavior...and hey - my family reads this.

I remember my roommate telling me about London, "Basically everyone in the UK lives their life as recklessly as possible all the time. No one cares, and hey - we have the NHS." So far - I haven't really found that side of London. In fact, over a group introduction email he sent out, one of his friends said, "that kind of behavior hasn't existed since you moved away." Surprise. But maybe I am wrong. The problem is - I'm not that into electro, haven't found any guys cute enough to grab my attention (except a Rastafarian gangster - but that's a different story), I don't like Ketamine, and have absolutely no desire to do Ketamine, ever. Ketamine is huge here. I still laugh when people start talking about it. I can't get use to the idea.

I don't love London. I think I can grow to like it over time. It's cold, gray, expensive, and it takes forever to get anywhere. People are rude, really rude. The ghetto is dangerous, really dangerous. The ghetto is almost kind of "cool" in Brooklyn, and the rudeness factor in Brooklyn is hilarious. It's for real over here. Everything is in your face, difficult, and unforgiving.

The most interesting people I have met have been guys on the West Side from Somalia, and Rastafarians on the East Side. I am about to meet up with one particularly intriguing Rastafarian - whose knife scars, tattoos, name, and attitude frightened me at first - but in my twisted mind I have turned it into attraction. My main question is, what the hell does a skinny white girl wear on a date with a proper Rastafarian gangster in Hackney? And is this guy going to be better or worse then a white band guy with locks?

I have a NYC vs. LND post just about finished that I'll post soon, so keep checking back.

where has all the morphine gone?

2009-07-14T06:31:00.000-07:00

Yes, for the tenth time that bruise in my arm is from a six hour IV (and a misplaced needle). Haven't started shooting up (yet).

Hospitals in New York are the worst. The worst!

If you are emergency room styling it, you are actually around people who are dying. The curtains separating the stretchers are the most visually violating, nauseating thing since bad carpet in airports. It actually takes hours to get anything done, and those "receptionists" are utterly useless.

Quotes from the hospital (from doctors):

I had some morphine in my pocket, don't know what happened to it!

Does anyone remember who I gave ALL the Percocet to?

Really?! Hospitals are THIS spacey? And could I have snagged a bunch of morphine IVs, and no one would have known? Kidding....

***

In recent news, what is the deal with cops? My friend is at court right now for carrying a pocket knife with a spring load. I have been fully searched twice in the last two weeks. Once on the lower east side, and once in Williamsburg. The cops on the LES said they watched me, "get in and out of a car." Not true. I had walked out of my job. It was on camera. The cops in Brooklyn said I looked "suspicious." Looking suspicious does not constitute as probable cause, right? I can't even attempt to enter a subway without getting bag checked. And they call it "random." It's not exactly random when they choose to search me, right? I was in a car a couple of days ago. A cop followed us for ages. He was waiting for us to do something wrong, knowing he could probably arrest all three of us for something - just by the way we look.

I'm ready to move out of this country. And. I am. Really soon!

***

The worst kind of band guys? The ones who are self titled, and DJ with their Ipods.

And, how good is that new Grizzly Bear song - "Two Weeks"?!

at my apartment, join us...

2009-06-22T12:50:00.000-07:00

WE ARE THE WILEY: A Benefit for Jon Wiley

A circle of Brooklyn-based friends have joined together to throw a benefit for beloved, local musician, Jon Wiley. We Are the Wiley: A Benefit Concert for Jon Wiley will feature Adam Green, Lightspeed Champion, DJ Johnny Tropical, and Chairlift at The Shank—an art space and concert venue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn—on Thursday, July 9, 2009 at 8PM.

On March 5, 2009, professional guitarist, bassist, and keyboardist, Jon Wiley awoke without feeling or mobility in his arms and legs. He was subsequently diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and incurred more than $30,000 worth of medical bills for his week-long hospital stay. After a lengthy recovery process, Jon has regained most feeling in his limbs and has gone on in recent months to record and perform with Lightspeed Champion, Adam Green, and his solo project, SpaceCamp. However, he is still without the means to afford his own healthcare.

Join us to celebrate the extraordinary talent of Jon Wiley, and raise funds to cover the expenses of a musician in need. This is a concrete opportunity to help a friend who, like so many artists and musicians in the United States, lack affordable healthcare. Jon’s story highlights the importance of healthcare for every person and the value of living each day to the fullest.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

We Are the Wiley: A Benefit Concert for Jon Wiley

@The Shank

98 Bayard Street, Williamsburg, Brooklyn

CHAIRLIFT + LIGHTSPEED CHAMPION + ADAM GREEN w/DJ Set by Johnny Tropical

Doors at 8PM (all ages)

Tickets $15 - all proceeds go to Wiley's medical bills.

To make a donation, go here:

http://wearethewiley.blogspot.com/

Thank you for your support!

getting to know you.

2009-06-03T21:54:00.000-07:00

Pick up lines that don't work:

Scenario: Me standing outside of a bar alone.

Guy walking up to door: I like your scarf.

(I'm wearing a plain, cream colored scarf, that I found in the lost and found in a bar.)

Me: Thanks

Insert long pause while he stares at me.

Him: Well, do you like anything about me?

Door guy: No, she doesn't. Keep moving.

Thank you, no, I don't care. In fact, I really don't like the bright red cardigan tied around your neck.

***

Boy (overweight and sweating): What instrument do you play?

Girl: Percussion. Um. Do you play anything?

Boy: The most musical experience I have is after I eat bean burritos.

I heard this and the only thing I thought was, what kind of parents does this guy have?

***

In general, these don't work either:

You're hot.

Do I know you?

Have we met?

I can't stop looking at your eyes.

I want to ask you something, something personal, but I'll wait until tomorrow.

***

The bottom line is: I'm a terrible girlfriend. AND. I don't even want to date anyone. I know a lot cute guys. I would rather keep hanging out with them then play the oh-so-awkward "get to know you" game.

In recent news...I have my first soap opera audition this week. Send good vibes. I had no clue I fit that profile. If that doesn't work out - I'm taking off to Asia and Europe. Surprise! Totally bored in New York.

in your face boners, sarcastic but stylish burkas

2009-05-14T20:05:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago, I was sitting towards the back of my regular tea spot in Brooklyn with a good friend. A guy we both know, and see around a lot stopped by our table on his way to the restroom in the back. Neither of us know the guy very well. My friend stood up to say hi to him. I stayed sitting. I was half paying attention to him, and half paying attention to my book. However, I immediately noticed my friend giving me all sorts of weird looks with his eyes. I eventually put my book down to look straight at him. I didn't need to raise my eyes far to see what the looks were for. As soon as my head hit eye level, I had a giant boner pointing right at me. This guy we know, he is one of those guys who wears his pants really low (he's also Dominican, and from Brooklyn if that helps with the image description you most likely want in your head). His pants were literally so low - that a full boner could rest on the top of his jeans for everyone to see, pointing straight out - with minimal constriction. Thank god he remembered to button up his boxers. Thank god his boxers had buttons! The funny part is, I really don't think he had a CLUE about the state of his "privates." My friend rushed the conversation as quick as he possibly could. I didn't say a word. It took everything in me not to laugh (and point). After a few minutes, he headed to the restroom as if everything was right in his world. If he wasn't aware of the situation while he was talking to us - he definitely discovered his prize upon entering the restroom. He did stay in there for an extraordinarily long time. So - it looks like he did something about it, as well. Needless to say, my friend and I are still laughing about it three days later.

***

That same day I had to work at my dreadful bar job (I'm so desperate to get out of a bar, I asked my yoga studio for a receptionist application the other day...free drinks or free yoga...got to look at perks). I had thrown a black scarf around my head while getting ready to leave. My friend said to me, going for the Muslim look today - because you sure look like one. I told him there were a couple people on the lower east side who definitely don't love me, and love to talk about it. I can't help but to egg them on by doing small meaningless things that are slightly out of the norm. If I show up to work looking like a Muslim, and they are already looking for reasons to talk about me, I'm just doing the nice thing and helping them out. But come on, what do you really say about a girl who always wears head wraps, but today left most of the "wrap" - undone? Man, that girl...today she showed up to work with a piece of fabric over her head! I mean, who knows? It cracks me up either way. Anyway. I continued to say to my friend, I mean, it's not like tons of Muslims hang out at a Southwestern bar with a mechanical bull on a regular basis...or, ever. About fifteen minutes into work a group of five people walked in. The only five people in the bar. That's right, three of them were Muslim. I laughed to myself, and then sent a text to my friend. Two hours later we were hosting a 250-person party for a pharmaceutical company. I'm not exaggerating when I say at least two fifths of them were Muslim (mostly Muslim females). As for the rest? Two fifths were Asian, and one fifth were white or "other". I couldn't believe it! I can almost guarantee that I have never seen a Muslim person at the bar I work at. Those of you who don't think you can manifest things with your mind - you are totally wrong! Ha! But really? Is the pharmaceutical market that segregated? The funny part is - of the fifth that were white - a large percentage were blonde girls with fake boobs, matching tank tops, way too much make-up, and self-tanner lubricated skin.

2009-03-17T12:36:00.000-07:00

Does anyone use tumblr?

I just started one.

dirtynails.tumblr.com

back back back

2009-03-16T11:55:00.001-07:00

Oh, dear. It's been awhile. Sorry everyone.

So.

I moved back to Brooklyn. I was a little weary about it as I grew quite attached to the West Village (who wouldn't, besides those so devoted to Williamsburg's tight pants scene). I have lived in MANY places since moving to New York. See below:

East Village
West Village
Long Island City
South Williamsburg (Rodney)
South Williamsburg (under the bridge)
East Williamsburg (Graham)
South Williamsburg (Broadway)
Bed-Stuy (Malcom X area)
Bed-Stuy (Marcy Project area)
Bushwick (hipster dorm area)
and now...Mccarren Park area,.

I seem to always be taking sublets instead of leases. Add in a broken lease, a crazy ex boyfriend, and some not so ideal living conditions and I seem to be "always on the move." Transient. Vagabond. Homeless? Well, sometimes. However, I have gotten to know a lot of neighborhoods. I first arrived to New York with three bags, myself, and two hundred dollars. My cab took me to 10th Street and Avenue C. I was supposed to be meeting my subleter - who was not there. I called her only to find out she was in Jersey saying goodbye to family (she was going to Africa for awhile) and running late - could I wait a few hours? I looked around frighteningly - Tompkins Square Park scared the hell out of me (I was used to a different definition of "park"), and the East Village/Alphabet City streets - although I liked the architecture, seemed a bit shady. I waited for about an hour on my new apartment's stoop steps - that is, until a nice guy who lived in the building offered to store my three bags in his apartment (until the girl returned). This left me with time to explore, and in minutes I realized the East Village was in fact, my dream neighborhood. It contained everything I wanted, every reason why I chose to dash so quickly from vile Iowa. After an hour or so of walking, I sat down on ninth and A at Pick Me Up Cafe and drank Americanos until I got the call that this girl had finally decided to come back from Jersey.

I grew attached to the East Village and leaving it to be homeless wasn't exactly ideal. After my not so fun homeless stint (at age 18 - hello, scary), I spent a month on Rodney and South 5th and then moved to Long Island City for seven months. I loved Long Island City. However, my apartment was conveniently located next door to the Queensbridge Projects due to my faith in a scum bag broker (note: never use broker). I was a little bit too far from what I loved about LIC and eventually moved to Bed-Stuy. Where I stayed for awhile. I loved Bed-Stuy. In fact, I still love it. This was the mark of a two year Brooklyn run. It wasn't until a catastrophic break-up that I moved to the West Village. I left for Asia, came back, spent a month in Bushwick (which after Hong Kong - kind of freaked me out), and then ran back to the West Village.

So. Here I am. I'm in a huge warehouse space. After some altercations with the roommate situation, I'm incredibly happy with the living situation. The area is a little bit desolate - but as soon as it's warm outside, I'll be walking outside to one of my favorite "parks."

I have had to get use to a few things Brooklyn is filled with....

It's dirty here. There is trash everywhere. Rats ON the streets. Bad streets. It's loud. Construction (see - gentrification). Why do couples fight so much in public? Drug busts. People are rude in Brooklyn, so rude. Today while waiting to board the infamous L train, some chick ran up to me, grabbed my elbow and pushed me aside - so that SHE could get on first. It was absolutely absurd. As if we ALL weren't trying to get on that exact train. This is why Hong Kong might be on to something with designated lines to board trains and people who monitor that it does happen (I know that would be disastrous here, but still). And oh yeah, Brooklyn is NOT safe. I got mugged by kitchen knifepoint a couple of weeks ago. Not okay.

***

So. For those of you who live in New York but are from the midwest...it's really easy to accumulate a pile of stories that your friends in the midwest "would never believe." People are weird here. That's it. You can almost do whatever you want in this city and get away with it. This past weekend I saw something that actually shocked me. The human carpet. Has anyone seen this guy? He rolls himself up in a carpet (with holes for his arms and a flap for his face). He places himself amongst some hipster party crowd and lays there. He likes to get stepped on. In fact, he placed himself in front of my bar this past Friday and stuck a sign to the bar that said, "Step on Carpet." I'm serious. He laid there ALL night while dozens of kids jumped, stepped, and danced on him and enjoyed it. Or, got off to it? Sick. Seriously, what a sick man.

Williamsburg needs hipster trading cards. With all the key players - the promoters, the hype bands, the well known bartenders, DJs...with all the vital hipster stats. List of significant exes? Drug of choice? Thrift store of choice? I bet we could get one of those crazy locals on the street to sell them....anyone in?

Anyway. I'm happy to be back in Brooklyn, I really am.

Promise I won't wait so long to post again (in fact, "the work it takes to be a lower east side hipster" is on the way).

still in bed at 3 AM

2009-01-18T23:48:00.000-08:00

While checking up on a friend I miss and love dearly - he mentioned he needs to quit smoking weed.

I asked him why and he replied...

I'm just so lazy on weed, and then I'm gonna have to quit drinking and then all I'm gonna have is jesus and I'm gonna have to kill myself if I become a jesus freak.

Miss you, dear.

***

A little more then irritated that I will be missing Obama's inauguration speech. Apparently an appointment with Vera Wang is just that important.

And....WHAT IS UP WITH THE WEATHER? THIS IS NOT THE MIDWEST!!!!!!!!!

hating it.

slurpee enthusiasts

2009-01-16T23:49:00.001-08:00

The meatpacking district has grown on me. I have spent the last few weeks solely hanging out in my neighborhood. It's a much needed break from the Lower East Side and Williamsburg. New York is amazing in the sense that by avoiding an area two miles away, I feel like I am in a different city. My only ventures out of my neighborhood are to my yoga studio - Upper East Side. Not exactly my first pick on fave neighborhoods on the planet. However, there are two movie theaters within two blocks of my studio, three vegan/vegetarian restaurants, several health conscious bodegas, Central Park, the MET, Guggenheim, a cute pink diner, and it's....nice? If anything, the subway ride is always interesting. I take the express 4/5/6 line from the Union Square L stop. The express train is usually packed. Half the people are typical Upper East Side residents. Half of them are going a little farther up - Harlem.

Today I got on the train at five thirty PM (on a Friday). Nothing tops Hong Kong style packed subways (except maybe, Tokyo), but I still find myself rubbing against people I would rather not be within miles of. So. Today. Across the aisle was a Dominican father, his Asian chick friend, and his daughter. He was downing a huge Sam's Club style box of sour gummy Lifesavers (have to admit - sounds delicious). His daughter was pulling on his jacket and asking for a piece of candy. He loudly mocked her for a few subway stops. Oh, just because Mommy isn't around you think I am going to give you a piece of candy? And then laughing, he would put a Lifesaver up to her mouth and then pull it away (several times). He then gave her a lecture on cavities. To which the girl replied (while pouting), I have always wanted a cavity. Painful to watch. Luckily, the train became more packed and he was quickly out of view. A very large Dominican middle-aged women (missing a lot of teeth) moved in front of me. She was accompanied by a black teenage girl. The lady is yelling. And I'm not exaggerating. The oh-so-typical-New York-subway-aggravated "I'm going to tell everyone on this train just how much my life sucks" spiel. She was mad about a number of things. One of them being that she was running late to a movie. She didn't know she had to pick up her kids. Something about a train ticket she spent money on. And some other money related things. She then looks at the teenage girl and says, Why you looking at me like that for? You think you are helping? No you are not. I'm in a motherfucking bad spot. I'll tell you - I'm in a fucking bad place right now, you don't want to mess with me. This kind of interaction went on for another minute or so. The lady yells again, I SAID I'm in a motherfucking bad spot. That's right. I'm in a real, real bad place right now - no one wants to cross my path. To the right of me is an older man. Almost distinguished - but a little bit unraveled. He looks at her, huffs, and says loudly, Yeah and your language is in an even worse spot. He shakes his head and moves next to the happy sour gummy family. Offended, the lady leans over (fully accosting me), looks at him and says, Yeah and you think it's any of your goddamn business? You think anyone here knows what kind of motherfucking bad place I am in? The cute guy with the briefcase and suit jacket makes eye contact with me. We both hold back laughter. The old man turns to the "father" and says, I'll tell you...these subway rides... The father, while popping those gummies like Brazilians pop Ecstasy replies, This is New York son, this is the New York City subway. That's right, New York, I love it. Train doors open, I push my way through the lower class Gossip Girl mess and head to yoga.

It's cold tonight. Really cold. I know, I know, it's waay colder in Iowa. But you all have cars. And the L train stops running at Union Square after eleven PM for the month. Which means I have a long walk to get home. I got off the train tonight. I see a gang of kids with purple dyed hair doing karate chops through the crowded mess of people trying to walk up the staircase. In Hong Kong, this never happens. It's crowded as hell, but the people are always moving in an orderly fashion. In New York, we all get the privilege of standing and waiting for something to happen. Something that will allow us to walk up the stairs. I finally start climbing the steps and am tripped. Thinking it's the gang of kids - I quickly turn around and say, Seriously, how old are you guys? The one with the mohawk says, You got the wrong fucked up guy. Ha! And I thought I was fucked up. He was right. A skinny downtown boy in black is literally falling up the stairs. His boyfriend is doing everything he can to hold him up. And then, as another people jam begins, the guy starts puking everywhere. From the looks of the vomit - I can only assume he is a 7-eleven cherry Slurpee enthusiast. Never seen anything like it before. The gang of kids start cheering and clapping. Everyone else attempts to move away (but can't because we are all stuck in the stairwell).

New York. The funny thing is - this kind of stuff doesn't even phase me. It's more like an annoying mosquito bite that won't go away.

On a positive note - my friends played in Brooklyn tonight. Good enough band to bring me out of West Village hiding. SpaceCamp. Check them out.

Also, William Bennett gallery (65 Greene Street) has a Salvador Dali print exhibit running. Worth checking out. Also worth checking out the basement. Miro, Picasso, Chagall, and Calder pieces. Also some Erin Morrison - who I am loving.

Tired and I need to sleep.

someone might call me in the morning

2009-01-15T21:52:00.000-08:00

Hello, West Village. You are covered in snow (now turned to tar). I hate it. How does anyone expect me to live in this city? It's cold. It's expensive. It's full of the worst people on the planet. I have a hard time even pretending I am Buddhist. I miss Asia. I am surrounded by vampires (NOT in the Twilight sense and definitely not in the Let The Right One In sense), actual vampires. A friend told me once to treat everyone in my industry like human ATMS - only make withdrawals. And that is what I am TRYING to do. Not easy. Two days ago, I sat for nearly an hour in Bath House Studios. I sat in a stagnant room with ten other models. Every model in the room was from my agency, IMG. Most of the girls were discussing the dramas of living in the IMG model apartment. I listened to one girl talk about how she was the "old" one of the house (seventeen). And then I listened to six girls loudly mock the new Asian chick that just moved into the apartment. Fresh off the plane/never been to America. Doesn't know a word of English (as if everyone from a foreign country should). And here they are - fifteen, long blonde hair, skinny - making fun of the way she TALKS. Were you there when she was trying to ask where the towels were at? It was like talking to a five year old, (direct quote)! And here we all are - sitting at a casting for a KOREAN catalog. Are you fucking kidding me? I mean, really? We have twelve Asians - six feet away - and all you can do is make fun of the Asian chick in your apartment? I kept my head in my Graham Green book. "Don't know these people" was the vibe I was going for. And then the fifteen year old chick from Saint Louis starts talking about how she took a cab to the casting, because it was too cold (which I have to admit, I did as well - but come on, 11th and Avenue D!!! - you would have, too). She then says, besides, taking the subway is for poor people, anyway. Taking the subway is for poor people. After repeating this in my head 5689 times, I thought, this is why people slit their wrists. However, I quickly overrode grabbing my dad's hunting knife out of my pocket and moved onto... thanks for your insight blond-fifteen-year-old-bag-of-bones who hasn't graduated high school (and probably skipped out on reading Of Mice and Men). Thanks.

Sorry. Subway is for poor people. Can't get over it. Because if everyone in NYC drove a car or took a cab - now that would make a lot of sense. And not just in an environmental sense. I'm talking utilitarian style..

There was a time I lived in Iowa. That's right - the midfuckingwest. I remember being in high school. You know, anxiously awaiting the Sunday New York Times magazine. It's all I had. I remember walking to English class with a girl who had never heard of U2. She had heard "of" the Beatles - but never actually "heard" them. Radiohead? Yeah, right. These are the people on Facebook who make it their duty to proclaim that they just tried Stella for the first time. That it is their new favorite "eccentric" beer and everyone just "needs" to try it. Sigh. Yeah. I was that weirdo in school who talked about moving to New York as soon as I turned eighteen. Except, I did. I did move to New York. And although it wasn't exactly Soho or Greenwich Village (as I had read about so many times), my first place of stay was in the East Village (pretty damn close). From there I moved to Long Island City (which will always hold a place in my nostalgic heart), and from Queens I moved to Brooklyn. I love Brooklyn. Brooklyn is as real as it gets. However, date guys in bands (although I have met a cute guy who plays music who seems legit - so far - going to leave it at that) and you'll find your means of survival - well, gone - and then you'll be desperate (while you are a packing one bag and he as already attacked you, stolen all your money, and now feels the need to spit on you) and someone amazing will come along and let you stay with them in the West Village/Chelsea/Meatpacking/it's all the same really - it's NOT junkie style Bed-Stuy - and then here you are...oh yeah, heat has vanished and so has the hot water. That's all okay, really. I have a yoga studio for showering. A space heater which helps. But then a few days ago my laptop just....breaks. Gone. See you later everything I have ever written down, recorded, loved, wanted to forget/remember...see you fucking later.

It's like this...I try to go on a friend detox, right? I cut the douche bag guys out. I stay at home and read. I get up early and go to yoga. And then what happens? My job lays me off. Sorry, economy sucks. Oh yeah, no laptop - rad. And damn, it's cold. I almost feel like I have to lose everything (except hopefully, my life) for one thing to go right. I almost want to blame it on the full moon. But my dad is a scientist. Call me lame, go for it, but he is the only person on the planet that I want to impress. And if I start aligning my life with the moon - I might lose respect. And as far as I am concerned, I still have managers who run my professional life. Which is a dream come true. Someone who calls me at ten am - just to find out where I am and what I am doing. My parents quit doing that years ago. I need that, though. I need to know that someone might call me in the morning and I better as hell be up and doing something right.

Anyway. As hard as I am trying. Some people still hate me. So. This anonymous person left a comment on my blog. I approve all of my comments. Believe it or not, I get hate mail. I think it is a little odd to leave a hate comment. Okay, you hate it - but you care enough to finish reading my blog and then leave a comment? And then you don't have the balls to leave your name? Come on. ANYWAY. This is probably the biggest complaint I have received in awhile. So. Instead of approving the comment - I thought I would give the person some credit and give it a blog entry to itself (kind of). Here you go, readers:

You are self-absorbed and no less a joke than the 'myspace guy' you just made fun of. The only real difference is that he has enough sense to talk about his real achievements (aka a job he did not land based on his looks) to real people rather than expounding on the whoas of being a pseudo second (or third) tier celebrity on some crappy blog.

Right on. You got it. I am self absorbed. In fact, I can't seem to find a stable relationship because the only thing I care about is my own success. I am twenty-two and live in New York City. And I model. Give me a fucking break. I am about as self absorbed as one can get. And thank god. If I wasn't, I would be way more heart broken and disappointed in the human race. And come on, who doesn't "land" jobs based on their looks - if offered? You would if could, man (or girl). And thank you. Because second tier celebrity is the biggest compliment I have gotten in a long time.

So there you go. I am fine. More then fine. I am manifesting my own success and it is going to work. I promise. I'm alone and I love it. My space heater is loud and I love it. I live in the West Village and I love it. I love going to yoga. Work was slow this whole week and I don't care. I had a meeting with my agent today and it was amazing. The universe can keep fucking with me - I don't care - I am fine. These losers I dated (minus one) can keep contacting me - I will probably (maybe) still get coffee with you. Minus twenty degrees? I have seen worse. I am skinny and I know it and everything is going to be just fine.

Keep leaving comment, assholes, I will probably keep dedicating posts to you.

I'm all about recording books on tape. And even more, just reading books. I'm okay without my laptop. Everything will be more then just fine. I'm going to be a star - I'll top your second tier celebrity "insult" and then you'll be dying to read this blog.

And I did a tree sequence today without falling. Seriously, for everyone who doubts me, go to that hell we have no proof exists.

ex-oh.

on liking rock music

2009-01-07T19:53:00.001-08:00

More on rock and roll.

Two nights ago I was standing on Bedford. Some nerdy guy walked up to me (with girl accomplice on hand) and rather loudly exclaimed, do you like rock music? To which I replied, hmm...do I like rock music? But before I could think about the question and get back to him he proceeded to give me some spiel about the "rock show" he was playing at a really great "rock venue" just a few blocks away. The girl accomplice forced a flier on me and he made it very clear how "great" it would be if I came out and supported his band. The band is called Freedom Haters. Need I say more? Later, a friend and I checked out their myspace page. I don't need to tell you the music is terrible - that was obvious from "do you like rock music?" But I do need to tell you that the music didn't have much "freedom" or "hating" to it.

Anyway. Left this out of my last post.

EDIT: Shows of 2008 that were actually worth seeing. After working in music venues in New York for over three years - shows get really old. It doesn't help that every other person I meet in Brooklyn has a band. Once you give out your number to these guys - your text message inbox fills up rather quickly with guilt trip invites to local shows. Really, you are playing for the fifth time this month? And this show is just as important as the last because so and so from some "huge" music related "thing" is going to be there along with a bunch of other "important" people? Shows were fun when I was sixteen and didn't know any musicians. I was excited to see bands play. Guys on tour seemed "super successful" and "famous." Untouchable. Now I know they are bunch of scumbags who live in squaller apartments with virtually no working utilities. If a light bulb goes out it is a major problem. Keeping all of the lights on is the only defined method that "fixes" the cockroach infestation problem. You can expect floors covered with cigarette ash (full ash trays of month old cigarettes) and empty bags of drugs scattered on any given surface. Sinks filled with every dish in the kitchen (soaking in week old dirty, cold water). You want a glass of water? No soap. Don't worry, the bathroom sink is empty (minus the nine month old grime) and there might be a bottle of (never touched) shampoo in the shower. The toilet is probably clogged and the shower tile is most likely black. Yes, black. You can expect at least one broken window pane, carelessly fixed by a sloppily taped-up garbage bag. You are lucky if band guys have heat. And if they don't, the pilot light (which they - guaranteed - have never heard of) probably went out and you'll be the one fixing it on day four of a thermostat that reads 39 degrees (and yes, you slept over and had to go to bed with your coat on). After you fix the heater, you'll be kindly asked if you can buy them their breakfast (at four PM). Still, musicians on occasion are talented and creative. Some of them are worth checking out. Here are several I recommend.

....

Monotonix - Check them out, go see them if you can. Israeli's with long hair, swinging from balconies and stuff.
A Place to Bury Strangers - Jay's drumming is phenomenal. The show is burn-your-ears off loudloud. The visuals are burn-your-retinas-A Clockwork Orange-style stunning. The kind of band you have to see live. I don't feel like listening to their record is worth much. However, their live set is a must see.
Secret Machines - Real rock. None of this super-hip-indie-experimental-dance-y shit. Just good music. Josh Garza is my favorite drummer in New York.
Black Angels - I love Black Angels, they don't get enough attention. One of the only bands I try not to pass up seeing.
Adam Green - Adam is an amazing entertainer with amazing stage presence,
Spindrift - Rad band find of the year. Had never heard them prior to seeing them.
Why? - Also had never heard them before seeing them. Stumbled upon their show during SXSW while wandering the streets with musician friends (also worth checking out) Sam Champion. I was glued to the ground - watched the whole set.
Ambulance Ltd. - Marcus Congleton has started playing shows again and he is just as good as before.
Angel from Dirty Projectors - She has a solo project and it's mesmerizing.
HEALTH - Can't take my eyes off the stage. I rarely want to stand through an entire set unless it's say, Radiohead. These guys do it for me.
Spacekamp - The guys from Adam Green's band have formed their own side project. Reggaeton influenced with some Spanish lyrics.
Crystal Castles - Sometimes I feel like they are over hyped - but that doesn't mean I don't think they are worth watching.
Kuroma - Another rad "never heard them before I saw them" find.
Boy Crisis - Stellar (did I just use that word?). I love these boys on stage, off stage, on my speakers...genius.
Les Savy Fav - I have been to a handful of Les Savy Fav shows. I feel like every show is hard to beat. I saw them play on Randall's Island with Blonde Redhead and Arcade Fire and while that show takes the top, this year's show was also quite good.
Dan Deacon - He is something else. Really.
Ninjasonik - Thing "amazing." Deathset style.

***

I completed my first "book on tape" a couple of nights ago. I picked a story I had never read before - "Boil Some Water - Lots of It" by F. Scott Fitzgerald (with a follow up discussion after). As soon as I get the edit (took a couple of tries before I hit solid material), I will most definitely post it. I also have a discussion on Mormon myths recorded. Some of you may or may not be interested in listening to it.

I feel really positive about this whole tape thing. You know, what else can I put on tape? Comic books (my friend did a recording of a Garfield comic after my Fitzgerald read)? Can my blog be on tape? I think 2009 might be all about taping. Get ready, because soon, popularity and attraction points will be primarily based on one's tape collection. Do you have Wikipedia on tape? Because the last band guy didn't.

***

I'm drinking "meditative" tea made by that company "Yogi." The box says it will help stimulate creativity and bring me clarity. I am sure as hell hoping the Yogi copy writer isn't a lying asshole. I'm locking myself up at home and not going to sleep until I finish a long past due graphic design project (as I haven't felt creative lately). My heat is broken (and it's not the pilot light). I stayed between two friend's places last week. Last night I got in a fight with an ex friend (the spark of my friend detox) and left the bar crying to meet up with one of my only remaining "still talking to during my friend detox" friends. He made me stay at his place as I was what stable people call a "mess." This put me two days behind my "what to get done during the week" schedule. I was already a day behind because the book on tape session lasted until seven AM and I spent the next day sleeping. I overslept today, woke up, and while I knew I should get the hell out of the apartment and do something with my life, I just couldn't because he was having a Battlestar Galactica marathon and I thought, "why not get myself hooked on another TV show like depressed people always do?" It's almost midnight and my updating my blog seemed more important then finishing the project I am getting paid to do. Luckily, I have been on a tea buying binge and have about eight boxes stacked in front of me. Meditative tea is telling me to end this post, move my space heater (that makes a loud annoying noise when it overheats) closer to my body, and finish that project. Still not feeling creative, but I'll give the tea a few minutes to sink in.

best of

2009-01-03T17:52:00.000-08:00

Been attempting to compile my list of best records of the year. It's kind of hard this year. I spent four months in Asia where I was disconnected from the rock music world. I relied on a few mixes sent to me by friends, blog posts that led me to good tracks, and three records - Yeasayer, Spiritualized, and Why? - plus, Asia club hits that I inadverently fell in love with. Because of the people I surround myself by and sometimes date - there are times when I just can't listen to music. I hear too much of it - or - it reminds me too much of people. When I got back from Asia I fell in love with Passion Pit's track, "Sleepyhead." It's great and you all should check it out - not getting enough recognition. M83 put out a great record, as well. I haven't seen it on many "best of" lists - should also get more recognition. Same with Spiritualized, Black Angels, and Secret Machines..

Anyway. When I think of the past year, I think more about all the shows I saw (was the band good live), friends of mine who made new music and worked on stuff on the side, and tracks that I got super into for a few weeks at a time.

Needless to say - still going to try and put a "best of" list together and then throw the tracks I love in your face.

1. Why? - Alopecia
2. Spiritualized - Songs in A&E
3. The Very Best - Esau Mwamaway and Radioclit are the Very Best
4. Lil' Wayne - Tha Carter III
5. Johnny Greenwood - There Will Be Blood OST
6. Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago
7. Deerhunter - Microcastle/Weird Era Cont.
8. M83 - Saturdays = Youth
9. Kanye West - 808s & Heartbreak
10. Wolf Parade - At Mount Zoomer
11. Passion Pit - Chunk of Change
12. Beach House - Devotion
13. Black Angels - Directons to See A Ghost
13. Secret Machines - Secret Machines
14. Erykah Baduh - New Amerykah Part One: 4th World War
15. Portishead - Third
16. Lykki Li - Youth Novels
17. Crystal Castles - Crystal Castles
18. Lindstrom - Where You Go I Go Too
19. Health//Disco
20. Spacekamp - tbd (love you guys)

Honorable Mentions (music I just didn't get around to listening to enough): Chairlift, Frightened Rabbit, Ponytail, Atlas Sound, Fuck Buttons, Etran Finatawa, High Places, Hercules and Love Affair

Record of 2007 that should of been in my top 5 last year? Yeasayer (All Hour Cymbals), Dirty Projectors (Rise Above)

Record of 2007 that should have been higher on my list last year? Panda Bear (Strawberry Jam)

EP of 2008? Animal Collective - Water Curses EP

Lately, music for me has been all about tracks. I switched to an Ipod shuffle. I can't have too many choices - I never get around to listening to any of it. When I bartend or am on a shoot- it's usually a mix of tracks. Myspace and other music related websites make it really easy to listen to tons of bands, but not full length records.

Tracks of the year?

Passion Pit- Sleepyhead
Kid Cudi - Day N Nite, Crookers remix
Francis and the Lights - Night Watchman
Sigur Ros - Illegresi, Them Jeans Dance remix
Why? - The Hollows
Noise Floor Crew - Small, Portishead remix
Boy Crisis - Indian Summer
The Kills - Tape Song
Lykki Li - Dance Dance Dance
Slaraffenland - (can't find the name of it, but I swear it's great)
Yelle - Je Veux Te Voir
Teenagers - Love No (Dolorean remix)
Empire of the Sun - Walking on a Dream
Beach House - Gila
The Very Best - Kamphopo
The Tough Alliance - Lucky
Hercules and Love Affair - Blind
M83 - Graveyard Girl

....and a few others, but I feel like it probably doesn't matter.

Some randoms of my year....

Best food discovery of the year?
1. Dan Bing (Taiwanese cart style)
2. Congee
3. Bok Choy

Best place I visited this year (besides the obvious, Hong Kong)?
1. Lamma Island, Hong Kong
2. Danshui, Taipei
3. Lantau Island, Hong Kong
4. Longshan Temple, Taipei
5. Coney Island in October

Best Discoveries of 2008?
1. Yoga
2. Acupuncture
3. Buddhism

Worst Mistakes of 2008 that I can post on the internet?
1. Guys in bands/boyfriends/dating anyone in general...
2. Leaving Hong Kong.
3. That time I did E in Taipei and it was cut with LSD and speed.

Best Choices of 2008?
1. Breakup with lame boyfriend in January.
2. IMG as my agency.
3. Anusara tied with meditation sessions

New York still gets to me. I'm not loving it. But I'm okay with it. Things aren't too easy right now. I'm manifesting as much energy as I can for something of a change. Trying out a "friend detox." Friends have disappointed me beyond any sort of logical reason and I can't deal with it anymore. Eliminating bad energy is my number one goal of 2009. People have come into my life and left my life - both in good and bad ways. I'm trying to retain as much as I can from Eastern world. They have something figured out and I miss it - a lot.

beat city turned ghost town

2008-12-26T16:03:00.001-08:00

Christmas might have been a little bit more fun if I were of Dominican descent. While Williamsburg was shockingly void of white hipsters - the streets were full of families throwing stoop parties and blasting thump-tastic reggaeton. And kids! Kids all over the place! At all hours of the night!

I worked an early shift that was super quiet. I spent about six hours pondering which option was worse - being the girl who gets hit on by the super-shifty-weird-oldish man at the bar while stuck working on Christmas Eve - OR - being the guy that goes to bars on Christmas Eve and hits on the young female employee who is bored out of her mind and has no where to run and literally no work to even pretend to be busy with. Verdicts?

I then walked to my friend's place and admired all of the raging Dominican parties I definitely was not invited to. I was under the impression that the party I was invited to was a small(ish) dinner party with drinks and maybe even movies afterwards. I walked into a mess of people (about a fifth of them I had met before - find out later most of them were recruited from the street) from all over the planet (literally), a super high stakes dice game (which kept me busy for hours), more cigarettes then the airport duty free shop holds in stock, and more alcohol bottles lying around then I go through a night at the bar (the bar goes through, that is, ahem). I joined in the dice game and basically beat everyone (six times - as I walked away with six dollars). I happily handed over the large bottle of Ketel my job gave me as a "gift" as a gift to the party, (that's right, I like to say I'm green...recycle when possible) and it was gone in a matter of seconds. I helped a friend delete his Facebook account through his I-phone (in celebration and honor of Jesus' fake birthday). And..well, I hung out for hours and hours and when I woke up it was after one PM and I was still very tired.

Williamsburg went from beat city to ghost town by midday on Christmas. Bedford was empty. I'm serious, empty. I had a (Jewish) bagel for lunch and (Chinese) dumplings food for dinner. I cleaned up copious amount of bottles (all filled with cigarette ashes) and the work I did barely made a dent of improvement in the cute artsy apartment turned squaller overnight (during a religious holiday). Needless to say, Christmas could have been worse.

(The Dominicans still don't beat playing with puppets made out of brown paper bags, don't worry family).

(Happy Birthday Mom. I love you and will do my best never to skip Christmas or your birthday ever again).

keep checking back

2008-12-23T12:29:00.000-08:00

I'm still alive.

Kind of checked out for the last month. It's cold and I'm bored. I really, really hate winter. I cause a lot of trouble when I'm bored. I'm pathetically single with about two friends. Oh, and I'm skipping Christmas. Spending Christmas in New York - never done that before...orphan week part II.

Worked in Miami for a little bit and found the city to be quite mesmerizing. Every American stereotype waltzing and galloping down South Beach. Take every reason the rest of the world hates us and you have Miami. However, a nice homeless man by the name of "North Carolina" did take me on a tour of the "real Miami" (city full of liars in a world full of thieves). That's right, I got on a bus with a stranger who then took me on a train where we went on a walking tour of maybe the sketchiest ghetto I have ever set foot in. More on that later. It's important that I tell that story in parts (as I don't want to kill off my parents in horrified fear slash where did I go wrong mortification).

More on everything later.

I'm compiling my "best of" list for the end of the year. Records - obviously, but maybe I'll add some other topics as well...you just never know when it comes to this blog. You think, "okay here are her top ten records of the year", and then wham pow bang!!! i throw you best cities of the year or something crazy like that. So keep checking back.

orphan week

2008-11-25T23:43:00.000-08:00

I have a new bartending job at this joint in Chinatown. It's a discrete spot with the usual downtown fashion crowd. The space is absolutely gorgeous. Reminds me of Hong Kong. Reminds me of the interiors in movies like A Clockwork Orange. You know, what the future was imagined to look like in the seventies. The food is mostly vegan or vegetarian. In fact, the place prides itself on macrobiotic ethics with an in house water filtration system.

Anyway. The first three guys to walk in the bar tonight fit the Wall Street after hours description. They had a printed list from some website of "hip, hidden" spots to check out in lower Manhattan. They each ordered an eleven dollar drink. They talked about how much fun it was to be hitting all of the "cool" spots they always hear about - but never get to see (arriving early, I'm assuming, is why they are allowed in any of these places). They then asked each other where "all of the hot ladies are" - they had apparently read (on the internet) these tiny spots have all the cute girls during weird weeknight parties. They shortly left, headed to that new absinthe bar. One of the guys got through a chunk of his drink. The other two had left about ninety percent of the drink behind.

Who can afford that? I mean, really. Holiday season. Shitty economy. Tuesday night at ten PM. Eleven dollar Jack and Coke. And you can't even take more than two sips of it? I almost find it offensive. So - you aren't affected by the economy, cool. But why don't you finish your goddamn drink and not look like a total douche bag? There are enough people financially suffering right now, right? It slightly offended me that these guys were taking a Disneyland (for adults) style tour of the areas I spend all of my time in. Taking a tour, dropping money on alcohol, and not even drinking. It's fucking Thanksgiving and it's almost Christmas - the five hundred dollars (at least) that they are going to spend tonight could go to a way better cause.

The worst part is - these guys are the guys who are essentially paying my salary. So as much as I loathe the crowd, I kind of need them to keep acting like the scum of the Earth.

***

I'm a little lonely. Most of my friends took off today to their respected "homelands." I'm stuck in a bar for the remainder of the week. I'm always a little bit lonely and a little bit depressed, but it's a little bit worse today. I guess I kind of miss my family. Miss being close to people - been fairly isolated lately. For all the right reasons - but it doesn't make it easy. But. I guess....we really are only exactly where we are - we can't be anywhere else. And if this is where I am at - I can't do anything but....stay grounded, be present.

Surrender. Accept. Embrace.

If you are around - send me a text, drop by the bar - we can do a shot of something while everyone else we know is warm, laughing and making jokes around a table, and well fed for the rest of the week.

macing your dancing shoes

2008-11-22T22:47:00.000-08:00

I live in a huge studio in the meat packing district. My room is directly above that club APT. That's right, the infamous after hours spot known for it's hard to get by door guy, house music, and crazy gay dance parties that go on until nine AM. Let me tell you, it's loud. Surprisingly, I have gotten use to it. I come home and fall asleep to the thumps and beats quite quickly. As far as the apartment goes - on any given day something new is going on. People rent out the space for photoshoots, film screenings, designer showrooms, supper clubs, film projects, various events, and....parties.

When I got back from Asia, I took nearly two months off from any sort of work. About a month ago, I started filling in shifts at a bar on the lower east side that I worked out prior to leaving. However, the shifts aren't incredibly stable (six nights a week to zero nights a week to one night a week to whatever comes up) and let's be honest, it's hard to live in New York and NOT have a job. This city is beyond expensive. The expenses pile up larger then my clothes do on the floor next to my bed (and trust me, I don't hang anything). So. A few nights ago, I decided, it's time to get a (real) job. It's difficult. I can only work nights with my spontaneous day schedule (my agents enjoy notifying me of castings and auditions a few hours before the call time). I have to work in a neighborhood that doesn't make me want to kill myself and at the same time generates a crowd that has money. And as far as a good bartending/cocktailing job goes - bars usually hire from within. It's hard to get a job without knowing someone in the place who has some pull. I have picked up a couple of shifts at a bar in Brooklyn through a friend of mine who also works there. The problem is that they start all of their employees as servers (i.e., not my ideal job). Surprisingly, I got an interview at a rad place in Chinatown through Craigslist. It's a newish establishment with a sort of private, hidden joint in the back lower level. Separate entrance. A fucking buzzer to get in. Above the register one will find a flat screen recording device hooked up to the buzzer. Bartenders literally have control of watching who tries to come in and from the bar can let people in (crazy). Anyway, instead of hiring and training the general manager gives hopeful interviewees a trial run at the bar. That's what I did tonight. I got off close to midnight. And made my way home.

My roommate let me know a few days ago that someone had broken the lock to the entrance door. He thinks someone wants access to our building. He told me to make sure to keep our studio door locked (we usually leave it open during the day due to the constant flow of people). This made me a little nervous considering I come home fairly late and by myself. Not exactly into the idea of walking up our stairs and running into some psycho with a huge kitchen knife (this DID happen at one of my apartments in Bed-Stuy). Being me and considering that last night while on my way to Twilight (yeah, two hours early, don't even try to mock) some creep grabbed my am on thirty third and seventh in midtown and said, I hope you fucking die, bitch. I screamed for help on the more than busy street and not one person stopped or even made eye contact with me. He kept my arm held and called me a bitch again and then started laughing. I reached for my knife. Pulled it out and said, get the fuck out of my face, right now. It wasn't until then that someone stopped and asked what was going on. I said, I just want this guy off of me - NOW. I shook my arm and he loosened his grip. I pulled it free and ran. Fast. These scenarios use to scare me and bring me to tears. However, now, it just pisses me off. What does he think he is doing? Invading my world and disrupting my whole qi - fuck off, man. Anyway. Not wanting a repeat of the past, I came home , opened the door and reached for my mace (thanks Berrett and thanks for my dad for bringing it to New York). Unlocked it and headed up the stairs (looking like a crazy person). I heard loud music and thought, Seriously? Are they really going this loud tonight? My room is going to be a nightmare (usually I can't hear any music in the front of the studio, let alone the stairwell). When I got to my unlocked door, I heard laughter and singing and talking and (serious) dancing. I opened up the door and wham! hello-how-are-you huge, crazy party - doing fine myself, thanks. Now. I'm working a brunch shift at ten AM tomorrow. I came home at midnight on a Saturday night to go to bed (NOT because I don't have any friends or a boyfriend or anything better to do...right...). But here I am now (my roommate just apologized for not letting me know the studio was going to be invaded by one hundred dancing freaks who know every word to that oh-so-catchy MGMT song, sick) lying in bed. I have techno coming from underneath me - complete with the thirty second siren that invokes lots of screams and woooos. I also have U2's "Sunday Bloody Sunday" coming from behind me - complete with karaoke style drunken singing. Rad. Hilarious. Welcome to my unbelievable life in New York. Oooh the breakdown in the techno song - now I'm into it. One of these days I am going to have a night out at APT. Who wants to join? Don't worry I can get by any door guy in New York (and have been able since the age of eighteen with an ID that said I was 5'4 and definitely two hundred pounds).

Let me tell you. People in this city are rude. I mean really, really rude. It's over the top. Unprovoked. Blatant. Cruel. People here are just plain fucking rude. To the point where it's laughable. The guy at the pizza place in front of you is always bitching about something. The person you grazed shoulders with on the streets wants to tear out your hair. Everyone has a problem with something. I have never seen anything like it in my life anywhere, except New York. It's worse in Brooklyn. People in Brooklyn are poor. They are angry about a number of things. They don't have anything else to do except argue that they deserve another piece of chicken with their order and they shouldn't have to pay a dime for it. It's a little different in Manhattan. People in Manhattan have a sense of entitlement about themselves. But. When it comes down to it - they are plain fucking rude, as well. Last night I went to Webster Hall with some friends for some show/party/event. We didn't really know what was going on. But we had a table with our names on it - complete with bottle service. Not to mention, Grandmaster Flash was DJing. Webster Hall is one of those places that insists on looking through your bag and body checking you. The chick went through my bag and then we got to the full body assault. I was wearing a bright red wool-ish poncho/cape. You know what I am talking about. Wide and drape-y, no sleeves. The chick looks at me and says, Okay. Take off your coat...or whatever that thing is. And she said it in the most disgusted tone ever. As if I had puke all over my coat or it was covered in mites and worms. I mean, really? Was that absolutely necessary? Come on. I took off my thing. Let her molest me for a second. Rejoined my friends. And then laughed. Really, really hard. Because seriously - people in New York just don't give a damn. It's about as real as it gets. And oh dear, people are rude.

we make you all tip.

2008-11-09T21:39:00.001-08:00

I don't exactly have a job. I worked at a couple of bars on the lower east side until I moved to Asia. The second I didn't have to show up to a late night bar shift, my whole world changed. No more endless rounds of jager bombs (with a shitty tip) for the bros with the loosened ties, button up shirts, and Hop Stop map guiding them step by step to their lower east side weekend adventure (necklace badge not included). No more six AM cab rides because for some reason your cash was just that messed up and that one douche-bag refused to leave the bar (even though the lights are turned on, the music is turned off, and a huge security guard is patting him/her on the back). No more ass grabs, beer soaked clothes, unreasonable amounts of whiskey shots (just to get through the night - because it really can be that bad), same track list from the previous week that I didn't like in the first place and won't like the next week (or the next), lame "pick-up" lines, slow nights where I'm leaving with next to nothing, and busy nights where I am leaving close to crying.

Needless to say, when I arrived back to New York, I sure as hell didn't want a job. It's been fun, kind of. Not having anywhere to be in New York can be absolutely amazing and magical. Of course, at some point, the non-rich will run out of money. My schedule is spontaneous and at times sporadic. Nothing to do for two weeks and then wham! pow! bang! fifteen-hour days until my arches literally cannot touch base with another pair of stilettos that cost more then my rent. So. After six weeks of being back in the city - I went to an old job and told them I could fill in any shifts that needed to be covered. It works out okay. I don't have any real commitment to the place. I don't have an actual shift. However, in the bar industry, everyone needs shifts covered fairly regularly. I have a hard time turning down any opportunity to make money (even when it comes to drug dealing and prostitution). HA. KIDDING religious family! I am not kidding when I say - I haven't turned down a shift yet. A chick at the bar needed her coat check shift filled on Friday and Saturday. Obviously, I said "sure." I have actually lived off coat check for the last three winters. It might sound ridiculous. Most people I know will say, I never even think about checking my coat. But most people I don't know (and for good reasons) are people that are hanging out on the lower east side on a Friday or Saturday. And these people check coats. I have actually made more money coat checking then bartending, serving, or cocktailing.

However, it has been slightly warm in New York. Warm enough that I am definitely not wearing coat. Warm enough that I spent last week outside. Whether I was eating cotton candy on Coney Island or eating ice cream in Chinatown - I was outside and without a coat. The Friday shift was cancelled. But it was raining Saturday and my manager told me to come in. It was a waste of time. I checked five coats. But once the coats were checked, I couldn't leave until they were picked up. I made fifteen dollars. I tried to pass the time (six hours) by reading my book (see: Best American Non Required Reading 2008). I quickly put it down after a few guys hit on me (see: verbal harassment). I pulled out my notebook and tried writing my schedule out for the week along with a to-do list. I quickly put it back in my bag after a few guys hit on me (see: more verbal harassment). I tried just sitting there. Didn't work.

Examples:

Beefy guy with cowboy hat (I work at a Southwestern bar with a mechanical bull. No, really.): What are you reading?
Me: Silent. Hold up book and point.
Guy: Don't you want to talk?
Me: Nope, not really.
Guy: You know, I read books.
Me: Good to know.
Guy to just as beefy friend (but in a suit): Come on lets go to the bull, she aint giving us anything. I bet she is pretending to read anyway, it's not even that light in here..
Friend: Yeah, if she could read, she would be in college - not working in a bar.
Guy to me:Did you hear that? You know, I was going to ask you if you had a boyfriend.
Me:Okay seriously, get out of my face.
Guy:What? You think I can't read? I told you I read. I read lots of books. What's your problem? Hey - will you watch my beer while I smoke a cigarette?

At this point one of the cocktail servers saw me in distress. She rushed over and let me run outside for a minute.

The same thing happened with the notebook.

Different beefy guy: Hey girl, what are you writing? Are you a poet?
Me: Actually writing out my schedule.
Guy: Sure looks like poetry to me,
Me: Well. It's not.
Guy: How is your schedule looking? Think you have anytime for me coming up?

This is where I stopped the conversation and decided to "just sit." And then another bozo approached me.

No tie, but a suit guy: You sure have electric eyes. What are you doing later?
Me: Working all night.
Guy: Right here? Care if I join you?
He then grabs a stool. Brings it over to my coat check station. And that's right. Plops his "I have a good job that requires me to wear this lame suit" ass inches away from me.
Guy: So. Where do your ocean blue eyes come from?
Me: Really?
Guy: Why don't I buy you a drink - loosen you up a little? I want to see you smile.
Me: Seriously, I am okay.
This kind of dialogue went on for about thirty seconds. It didn't go anywhere. The man "with a plan" eventually got fed up. He stood up and straightened out his suit jacket.
And then he said:You know, you're not even that pretty with your mean glare. You should really learn to smile. Might help you get a date.

Fortunately, he left the bar. I need to start wearing an engagement ring, or something.

I had the same cocktail server watch my five precious coats again. I stepped outside. Before eye-compliment-guy had approached me, I noticed two rather normal looking guys (yes, you can judge people by how they look) enter the bar. This occasionally happens. I usually assume they are from the LA (or something similar) and had no idea how bad the place gets on the weekends. Or maybe they use to live in New York when the lower east side wasn't a tourist attraction, a fucking Disneyland for adults who like to rage after their Friday shift. The main assumption being: they just don't know any better. So. I walk outside and see the two decent guys standing near the curb. One of them is on the phone and is apparently trying to convince his friend not to come to this joint. He is throwing out other bar names and it doesn't seem to be going over well. He finally says, I'm telling you. There is NOTHING positive going on in there. I mean it when I say it - not one positive thing has happened tonight. In fact negative things are going on all over the place. Yeah, I know, we have only been here for fifteen minutes. But let me tell you, nothing positive is happening. Come if you want, but I'm out. This place makes Times Square at least laughable.

I didn't see the two again. But everything he said is true. And it is a relief to know that there are decent people in New York who might frequent a bar. It's a shame they can't band together (picturing a red rover style social setting change right now) and revolt against these people who need a map and step by step directions to get to a list of five or six bars that are all within a two block radius of each other. Bottom line? There is nothing positive about any bar on the lower east side on a Friday and Saturday night. In fact, I'm convinced the area only attracts demonic creatures. The depressing part is that the demonic creatures are the ones willing to pay ten dollars a drink (and drink all night). It's the demonic creatures that are making it possible for me to have an income. And although the economy sucks and I have more friends then ever living on unemployment, these people still drink on the weekends. They might not be buying bottles anymore, but they drink the same amount. And whether it's a five-dollar beer or a ten-dollar mixed drink; I'm still getting a dollar a drink. I'm still making the same amount a night that I did before leaving for Asia.

So thank you demonic creatures, scumbags of the earth, tequila shot moist suits, poorly executed "cowboy" dressed nine to fivers, after work alcoholics from Staten Island, Long Island, Jersey, and tourists who want to experience the "cool" area of New York. Thanks for harassing me. Thanks for hitting on me. Thanks for grabbing my ass. Thanks to the girl who punched me in the back last week after I tried to get by with a tray of drinks (when I turned around she was laughing and mocking me to her slutty dressed friends). Thanks to the corporate parties with the black AMEX cards. Thanks to the bachelor parties with guys who wear underwear on their heads. Thanks to bachelorette parties with the mini skirts and belly revealing t-shirts that read, Single for one more night. Thanks to the suits, the ties, polo shirts, and khakis. Thanks to the afterwork fireman who drink so much they pass out after vomiting all over the bathroom floor. Thanks to the after work paramedics who start fights. Thanks to the mechanical bull rides.

Thanks to all of you who drink - because guess what? We make you all tip.

boys and girls, please talk on!

2008-11-06T13:57:00.001-08:00

I had never seen New York in such a dizzy/ happy/crazy/haze until O B A M A was announced president. Seriously, insane. I was stuck on the lower east side working at a southwestern (but full of democrats from around the country) bar. The bar atmosphere was something else. But the streets? Motorcycle set on fire. People dancing - everywhere. Cabs going crazy. Screaming and hugging and laughing....and maybe a fight here or there. Yay Obama!!!! The only problem? Why didn't I pick up a New York times on the way to yoga at seven AM? What was I thinking? They were out by midday.

Other than that, well. I'm keeping busy. It's kind of fun and kind of frustrating.

It's like this, no matter what I do during the day - I'm pissing someone off. Coming back to New York wasn't easy. The past few weeks have been rough. I'm doing everything I can to remain positive. Trips to Coney Island. You know, eating cotton candy and looking at fish five times the size of me (no, really). Brooklyn Chinatown with lychee gummies, kids who think my eyes are fake, and lots of live food that will forever make gag. Art galleries. Yoga. Yoga. Yoga. Tea. Readings lots of books. You know, trying to just get through the day. And still. I'm wronging someone. Always. Someone always has something to say. Doing "something" is never good enough for anyone. Sigh. Part of me feels like if I am always going to be failing and disappointing people, I might as well just give up - because this "getting through the day thing" is getting kind of old. The other part of me will probably just never add minutes to my phone and keep hiding out on the upper east side.

But yes, trying to be productive because I just wasted two months in Bushwick with someone whose songs haven't even been all that good lately. Totally single - finally. Feels good. Happy about it.

I was talking to a friend via text message last night. He didn't sound all the enthused about, well, anything. I sent him a text that said, Don't sound so depressed. If that is even possible over a text. He wrote back and said, I could make a fax machine sound depressed. Thought that was kind of funny. He could make a fax machine sound depressed. But he also makes me laugh. So it's people like him that I can't really live without.

When things aren't going well, it's really small things that keep me going. Last night at work I had a table of three guys. Really nice guys. One of them was visiting from East London. The other guy is a publicist at Teen Vogue. And then the straight guy out of the bunch struck a conversation up with me. He started talking about music and bands. I mentioned that my ex was touring in England right now and that unfortunately, I do like his band. Surprisingly, he had heard a lot about the band. Sidenote: Although things have not been great, it wasn't until yesterday that I sent the "final" email. You know how they go - make sure you call the guy an asshole, make sure he knows that you know he has been using you, lying to you, etc. Call him a sociopath and maybe mention that the whole situation kind of sucks because you can't exactly change the fact that you DO still love and care about him. ANYWAY. Back to mystery boy from Brooklyn. He orders wings (gross) and a beer. And it's funny, because in situations like this - the thing that is totally killing you the most, the thing that you are doing everything you can not to think about, all of the sudden becomes a laughable anecdote with a total stranger. We have this conversation:

Him: I know I just ordered wings. And it's impossible to eat wings and look remotely attractive. I mean, they are so messy and you are literally gnawing at these bones. Just look at the chick at the end of the bar.
Me: Yeah. And I don't eat meat. So. Really gross.
Him: Fuck. You don't eat meat and just ended things with a band guy on tour. I wanted to ask you out on a date. But maybe we'll see how you feel after you see me chomping on tiny animal parts.
Me, laughing: After seeing people eat chicken feet and ovaries....and seeing people slurping on pig intestine soup - you probably won't gross me out. But you are not a musician - are you? Because, I have decided that I am pretty much over that.
Him: Shit, yeah I am in a band. And we're not even half as good as your ex's band. This may never work.

He was funny. He was so....upfront? I laughed. I took his number and continued to talk to him throughout the evening. I'll probably send him an email this week (and hope that he doesn't "google" me and find this blog entry). But it's conversations like this that make me laugh for a few minutes. It's conversations like this that make New York different from the rest of the planet. A little bit magical with the most random people and greetings.

Other things get me through the day as well. My phone isn't one of them, usually. I am the worst with phones. When I got back to New York I had a couple of weeks where I refused to buy one. I finally gave in and bought a fifteen dollar pay-as-you-go phone. It worked out fine, kind of. It's constantly running out of minutes. I have unlimited texts and don't enjoy talking on the phone, so I rarely "top up" (that's what Virgin calls minute refills) the damn thing. It's two thousand eight (or should I say 2KGR8). Communication is ridiculously easy. In fact, it's almost annoying. Can I get a round of approval nods when I say this next sentence? Facebook chat has to be the worst form of communication on the planet. In fact, whether or not a person loves chatting on Facebook should be my new litmus test for "Are we/can we be friends?" Sidenote: I use to take people to Soho Park. If they were into it - friends forever. If not - see you fucking later. And if you haven't been to Soho Park, you NEED to check it out. And text me, I'll join you. ANYWAY. With text messaging, Skype, ichat, Twitter, Facebook, Myspace, my blog, flickr, and my email account...I'm thinking, is it necessary for people to hear my voice whenever they please? Probably not. But with agents and managers and parents - sometimes it is. I lost the first one. Broke the second one. My third phone was stolen while I was working. That's right. Who steals the fifteen dollar phone that is OUT of minutes. Like, you have to PAY to use it. I even thought phone stealing was a thing of the past, who steals phones in 2008? But it was stolen. So. I told myself I was going to splurge and buy a nice phone. However, I got to the place and they were out of everything except the fifteen dollar and the thirty dollar phone. I moved up to the thirty and so far it's still in my possession (although I have left my charger at work for the past two nights, it's dead and I can't use it).

But my whole point is that when I DO add minutes (which I literally just did now, live blog updating - are you ready?), my phone explodes with this hilarious little jingle that cracks me up, hard. The website then loads a new screen that reads, Nice! 30.00 has been added to your account. Talk on! I read it in a tone that one of those commercial voice over guys always has. I make sure I drag out the "c" in "nice" for just a second too long (and this all makes me crack up a little bit harder). I start thinking about "talk on." Is that derived from "right on"? I'm not too sure, but it's obviously hip. I like it when my phone provider is up to date with modern lingo. I think it is even safe to say, Virgin Mobile is even more up to date then I will ever be. It's this kind of stuff that makes me laugh even on my most depressed days. And it's this kind of stuff that keeps me going. And then I think to myself, you know, Virgin Mobile seems to think I did something right today. They are not totally disappointed in me. In fact, THANKS is printed in huge, bold, red lettering on the exit screen. They aren't giving me a hard time about anything. They could say, "spend more money." They could say, "you should have added more minutes two weeks ago, what's the deal, what took you so long?" They could say a lot of things. But they are just happy that I did something. And this is all I am asking for right now. And this is kind of all I need right now. For those of you who emailed me after my last post all "worried", I'm here to tell you - life isn't that bad. Sometimes it just takes Virgin Mobile or a random guy ordering chicken wings to remind me.

***

In other news, friends falling off a mechanical bull will never fail to make me laugh.

More stories later but I'm running late to a fitting. That's right. Shooting a commercial for "Drug Free America" tomorrow. My role? User. Hahaha. Can't wait.

i have always liked rocks.

2008-10-19T18:18:00.000-07:00

Until three days ago, I was planning on being in Sydney this weekend. I was going, for two months, to further build my "book." You know, that portfolio I carry around, full of photos of myself. Wait. Stop and think about this for a second. Imagine carrying a gigantic self portrait photo album in your bag everyday. Did you think about it? It's ridiculous, right? Anyway. The New York market is possibly the hardest or one of the hardest markets to break into. My agency has a philosophy that there is no point in even trying (i.e., going to castings) until a model is fully ready. Basically, the goal of any model is to have a portfolio entirely filled with editorials. A model usually starts their career with test shoots. Shoots with other photographers who are also building their book. The shoot is free for everyone involved and everyone receives photos in return. However, in order to gain better photos quickly, a lot of models do paid tests. This is where they pay a better photographer to shoot with them. Eventually, test after test, turns into booking jobs for magazines. Now the problem is that photos don't always turn out in a way an agency feels is "suitable" for the portfolio. Meaning, it takes a lot of fucking shoots to build a portfolio. This is why agencies send models overseas. When a model shows up to a country for eight weeks, the goal is that every magazine in that market will want to work with the model. But. Another problem, is that while a model might shoot for twenty magazines in an Asian market...what Asia feels is "high fashion" at the moment, might not work for a New York portfolio. I must have shot over forty jobs while in Hong Kong. Three or four of those jobs are in my book right now. I shot for Harper's Bazaar in Hong Kong. Bazaar is one of the best magazines on the planet to book. However, my agency, decided that the photos didn't work for the NY market.

So. Models keep working. They keep traveling to different markets. They keep shooting. They keep "building their book." When I got back from Asia; I had a meeting with my booker. I told my booker, "Can you make me a star? Because this working and not getting paid thing is getting kind of old." My booker then gave me a rundown of my "career path." I was to go to Australia, try out Europe, maybe go back to Asia, and hopefully by next fall I would be "ready to be based out of New York." It's ten PM and I can't even decide what I want to do with my day tomorrow. So. A year seemed really, really far away. I was told that in Sydney, "a model can come back with an entirely new book, the editorial work is great." Plus, the beach, cute Australian guys, and the start of a new summer seemed all worthwhile in my agenda.

A few days ago I got an email from my booker that only said, Shea. We need to talk. I'll call you before the end of the day. My heart stopped for a second. Honestly, does that email seem positive to anyone? My head immediately went into a dizzy fest. Had I done something wrong? Was I getting dropped?

My "look" screams editorial. I shot for Future Claw two weeks ago. The images were sent to my agency and my agency agreed it was one of my best shoots to date. Before leaving for Asia, I shot a lot of editorial for European and American magazines. It took awhile to get all of the tears, but they came while I was gone. Since being back, my agency has spent a lot of time reconstructing my book. Well. My booker called. And surprise! It was good news. He and the rest of the board had a meeting. They went over my portfolio. They all concluded I was ready to work in New York. My booker apologized. "We know you were looking forward to traveling more. However, we feel you are ready to work here. Why not make money here instead of getting in debt for tears you don't need in a different country?" He told me that for the first time, they owed me money. I finally covered all of my expenses on my account.

So. Whoa. This was a shock. A year of constantly working for nothing, moving every two months, anxiously waiting on tears...not happening. Not that you'll see me gracing the cover of Italian Vogue next month. And yes, I'm still broke. But last January I had a goal. By the time I was twenty-five, I wanted to work overseas. I wanted time in New York where I wasn't working in a bar. Five months after I made the goal, I found myself on a flight to Taipei. When I got back to the states, I took about six weeks off and minus a couple of shoots; I didn't do a single thing. After coming back, I made a new goal. I wanted to be based out of New York. A few weeks later, I am here. It's wild. It's shocking. It's kind of exciting.

Things have been going quite well. Quite well, and somehow during a six week period of “doing nothing.” And what about that cute boy? If I have one single piece of advice on dating, it would be this: never date a touring musician, especially if they live in Brooklyn. I'm not going to say all musicians are terrible boyfriends (although I have yet to find one that is even passable).

But. Key signs it might be a disaster?
*No job, record of being fired, always "looking for a job", but sometimes not even looking.
*Consistently broke - or they can't tell you where all of that money they just received from their label went.
*On the verge of being homeless - or, just homeless.
*No phone, but if by some miracle they have a phone - they can't seem to pick it up.
*Multiple girlfriends (a plus if they tell you about them, way worse to find out accidentally).
*Warrants out for their arrest.
*They tried out AA and/or NA. They stopped going. But that doesn't mean it worked.

I'll stop there for now. The signs are always there. The problem is, they are still just as creative and cute even if they identify with all of the signs. The funny thing is, every band guy I have associated myself with, has “lines” they use to keep you around or to cover themselves when they are being total assholes.

Examples of lines I have received multiple times from multiple guys in bands...

"Sorry, I lost my phone."
*Again? You lost it again?

"My phone is fucked up, don't know what is going on with it."
*But when you want to talk to me, it always seems to work.

"I left my phone in my car (insert the band van, the practice space, or any other related venue they visited) overnight."
*For twenty-four hours? Really? And again?

"I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want to lie to you either."
*I would have lied if you hadn't figured it out, now there is nothing I can do about it.

"You know how much I care about you. You are being crazy."
*I'm still being an asshole, but maybe if I call you crazy, you'll drop it.

"I know I am hurting you and I am really, really sorry."
*I'm still not going to do anything to make you feel better.

"I love you and always will, whether you believe me or not."
*I'm being a total asshole, but I still think you are cute and would rather not fight and/or lose you.

"Her? She doesn't mean anything."
*Does she know she doesn't mean anything? I bet she would love to hear you say that.

"That girl? She is meaningless."
*I said the same thing to her about you.

"I don't even like her that much."
*I see her every time you aren't around.

"I don't even talk to that girl, ever."
*I would never answer a phone call from her around you.

"Yes, of course, she knows all about you."
*She totally knows I am kind of seeing someone (who isn't my girlfriend and doesn't mean that much).

"We only made out, a long time ago. And I told you, it didn't mean anything."
*I was seeing her all summer and plan on seeing her again.

"What I have with you is different."
*You have just stuck around longer.

"These other girls aren't like you."
*Don't worry, I have totally decided you are the one I want coming to my shows with me.

"I'm sorry, the show started four hours late."
*When was the last time anyone was at a show that started four hours late?

"Sorry I didn't call, the show ran late, again."
*Because you know from the second I get to a show, I don't have a single free second to glance at my phone or send a text message. But that girl that needed to get in? Yeah, I ran to the door and helped her out.

"Band practice was longer than usual tonight."
*Band practice is always a given amount of hours that I am unavailable and you can't argue with it.

"I have been busy."
*For five days? Really? Not a single second free to let me know you are alive?

Me: "Are you seeing anyone else?" Him: "You know I love you."
*Yes, I am, but it's totally not cool if you see other guys.

It's like these guys have a dating guidebook that they all live by. It's unreal. And the most unreal part is, I still find myself dating them. I'm not kidding when I say: they are all the replicas of each other. They might sing different songs about different things, some might have longer, dirtier hair then others, some might wash their clothes once a month as opposed to every three months (or never), and some might wear tighter jeans then others. But. They all pull the same shit and treat their "girlfriends" the exact same way. Of course, then you'll get the guy who surprises you and is totally honest about something.

Band guy: "That girl I was seeing while you were gone is going to be there and yes I am going to hook up with her."

Me: "I thought we weren't seeing other people while I was in town."

Band guy: "Well, the show is an hour and a half away. It's not like I am doing this in New York."

Lets face it; there is no response to that. Go for it. Have a fucking good time. And by the way, is it cool if I acquire a Manhattan boyfriend? Because from your apartment to his, we're talking an hour on the train.

So here I am. I thought I had plans tonight to celebrate my news of staying in New York with dinner and a movie tonight. But my date? My date disappeared Thursday night and can't be reached. I thought he might turn up sometime today. I was convinced enough that I didn't make other plans. And here I am, sipping on a glass of Cabernet. I just washed the one plate of food that I made only for myself.

Honestly, I feel like such a cliché. Model girlfriend/rock star boyfriend. We're broke. We don't have jobs. Flakey and spontaneous. Impulsive and slightly crazy. We stay up way too late. We find ourselves getting into all sorts of trouble and debauchery. So. I guess the problem is, I am not that much better to date. I flake out and I have a million things going on. I'm all over the place. I'm not high maintenance, but I feel like most guys can't deal with me. I'm not some issue-free, safe girl. And honestly, the only thing I really care about is my success. Also, I don't want a committed relationship. The question is, if he does resurface, if he does call again, do I answer the phone? And yes, I usually do. But at some point, things do change. At some point, I do stop caring about these people. It's just a matter of when. Because you can't do anything about the way you feel about someone. And it sucks, it really sucks. And that leaves me with this. I'm sitting by the window at the front of my studio. I'm on my second glass of wine. I ate dinner with my laptop. I'll probably sit here until hours after I could have gone to bed. I'll go to bed a little bit sad and a little bit lonely. But hey, I have been sad and lonely before. In fact, I rarely call myself "happy." Ha. I guess you could say, "It's not my thing."

Let's look at the facts. For the first time in my entire life I have made goals. I have had two goals this year. One goal I gave myself three and a half years to complete. The other, a year. Both have been completed within ten months. And. I don't feel the slightest ounce of satisfaction.

Maybe I should have been a geologist. After all, I have always liked rocks.

sounds fun, sure.

2008-10-09T00:34:00.000-07:00

Model on vacation. Dangerous, really. Lots of opportunities to spend money, not sleep, and of course, get heartbroken.

It was dark at six PM. It's cold outside.

I was supposed to leave town a week ago. My trip got extended and I have to admit, I feel a little crazy. I'm ready to do something. I haven't worked in a month. I'm running out of money (fast) and I don't exactly have a place to live. Things feel a little hectic and unstable. Surprise.

Anyway. Coming back to New York was harder then I thought it would be. However, the "hard" part wore off fast and I have been having a blast.

Here is a story from my journal about my first few days back....

***
My cab got stuck in traffic - just like everyone told me it would. Should have taken the train. I was throughly searched (surprise) and didn't have much time before my flight took off. It wasn't until standing in line to board my flight that I realized my passport and boarding pass were gone. Exhausted and nervous as hell about returning back to the states, I ran around the HK airport frantically asking everyone in sight if they had found a passport.

My passport and boarding pass were found seconds before I was scheduled to take off. The plane was told to wait (no, really) and well, here I am, I made it to states.

I was throughly searched again at JFK. And this time, they went through my actual luggage. I have bad airport luck. I'm always on the flight that gets cancelled. I almost always get searched. I fit the "drug" profile. I know this. I find it irritating when I am told the search is "random." However, for the first time, I was told I was being searched for drugs. They didn't find any. Ha.

The guy I like quite a lot picked me up from the airport (thank you thank you, my luggage was so heavy) and had brought me flowers. No guy has ever given me flowers. So. I have to admit, it was cute as hell. We went and got dinner in a diner a couple of blocks from Times Square. I'm serious. And everything seemed perfect and real.

Until. The next day. The next morning when I couldn't sleep because I was just that jet lagged. I took off to yoga around six AM and WOW Bushwick scared the hell out of me. My guy lives in the McKibben lofts off the Montrose L train stop. An area I was one hundred percent accustomed to before leaving. I left his apartment and was faced with trash trash and more trash, not to mention rats. A couple of people on the corner - one who told me I should "eat a sandwich" and the other one who said, "why don't you come with us and we'll show you how to eat a sandwich?" What? What is this?! I was horrified. I stepped into the corner bodega only to be greeted by rude service, something that maybe resembled a line at the counter (looked more like a disaster) and aisles of goods that didn't even come close to a 7-eleven. And what about all that cute Asian candy? I'm craving it! Somehow, I made it to the train. I mean, I knew I would complain about the MTR and the NYC Subway differences - but talk about gross. Again, horrified. And there I am walking down the steps to the platform and someone ran into me so hard that my purse went flying along with all of it's contents. The guy didn't even look at me and kept trotting up the stairs.

I'm not going to lie, tears filled my eyes. I felt alienated.

Hong Kong! I miss Hong Kong!

Yoga helped.

Seeing my friends that night was nice - but still, freaked me out. Bushwick didn't get any more friendly. And honestly, I found myself the next day and a half hiding out in this guy's place, laying in bed, not wanting to move.

We're in Connecticut now. Suburban heaven. It's easier to deal with than Bushwick. We're cooking meals and drinking coffee. Flipping through magazines at Borders. Watching TV - a lot of it. Taking naps and making jokes. When my head is on his shoulder nothing bothers me. Everything "wrong", missing Asia, stress, distractions....he makes everything okay. We're going to Boston on Monday and then we'll be back in Brooklyn.

I'm not so sure Brooklyn will ever be what it was four months ago. I think Asia changed me a lot.

I'm happy to be back and happy to see people I love. But damn - Hong Kong has some things figured out and I miss it oh-so-much.

***

So. Three weeks later. Brooklyn feels normal. It feels almost right. The filth, crime, shady characters...it all feels quite familiar. If anything, it's real. Manhattan is the same as I left it. However, New York doesn't feel the same as it use to. I feel fairly disconnected from everything that use to make me comfortable. It's time for me to leave.

I don't know if I'll ever have a place to call home. My life isn't exactly full of responsibilities, which sounds fun, sure. The thing is, everything in my life seems super unstable and temporary. Sometimes, it kind of freaks me out.

stateside, still alive.

2008-10-01T16:38:00.000-07:00

Well. I'm going to apologize to myself and to anyone else who cares about my blog. I made it back to Brooklyn three weeks ago. I decided to take a break, one hundred percent decompress, and relax for a few days. A few days turned into a week. And that turned into...until it is time for me to get on a plane and do this "getting use to an odd place while working non-stop thing" over again. I have successfully taken about three weeks off from my life. I was just about ready to get on a flight (twenty two hour flight, does anyone have xanax I can buy) tomorrow evening. However, this morning I got a phone call from my agent. My boyfriend and I were stopped in the airport while waiting for an annoyingly delayed flight to Des Moines. The guy asked me, who are you represented by? He is a photographer and is shooting for a job which involves couples. We gave him our information and he said he would contact my agency. Randomly, the casting director for this job, is friends with my booker. And randomly, it is a job that is worth me postponing my trip. My boyfriend and I met the casting director today. I'm basically waiting around (with nothing to do) until I find out if I book the job or not. Send good vibes my way. It would be super annoying to stick around here (homeless and not working) to find out I didn't get booked.

Anyway. What I do/have been doing with my time off:

* Sleep, a lot. Stay up late. Take naps whenever I feel like it. Wake up without an alarm clock.
* Watch countless episodes that I have already seen of The Office and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
* Spend a lot of time on the internet. Read blog after blog, news stories, emails, Facebook messages, Myspace messages, keep up to date with Flickr, and on occasion update my Twitter status.
* Read about music, listen to music, and watch videos of live music.
* Talk to friends and family via ichat, Google chat, Skype, and Facebook chat (which I kind of despise).
* Walk wherever I decide to go during the day (considering I have the time to do so). Plus, after falling in love with Asia's means of transportation, the subway system here totally freaks me out.
* Parks, parks, and parks with good food and a super cute boy.
* Spent some time watching friends play in their respected bands in places like Williamsburg. I even have ventured out to the Lower East Side to see friends I missed dearly.
* Trip to Jersey City where I successfully ate a plate full of beets.
* Five day trip to Connecticut where I did nothing but sleep, read the New York Times, watch episodes of Intervention, and eat. Oh, throw in some swing set action, the mall (no, really), a little league game, coffee from Dunkin' Donuts every morning, and Batman. That's right, living it up, suburban style.
* Trip to Boston to see the boyfriend play a show with a rad band.
* Rented a Uhaul and successfully threw everything I own on the curb (minus a couple boxes of books and journals). I did this on my own. Yeah, that's right. My belongings were stored in an apartment on the fourth floor of a building with no elevator. Talk about strong arms!
* Three day trip to Iowa. Saw my family. Went to a super cute wedding. Officially, my first "real" wedding. The wedding at the bar/venue I use to work at (which was executed with karaoke as the theme) doesn't really count. Neither do Mormon weddings, considering I have never actually been "in" to one.

So. I have plans to post a real entry regarding my initial America culture shock and a couple of more interesting (I'll skip the personal three week itinerary next time) stories. But now you all know...I made it back in one piece and have no (well not many) complaints. It's been a super relaxing, fun, full on" stateside lifestyle" vacation. However, I do miss Hong Kong, a lot. Even found myself making plans to eat at Congee Village tonight. I guess I am missing the food? All right, maybe not all of it.

techno, brazilians, stock traders.

2008-09-07T13:43:00.000-07:00

Whoa.

It's almost five AM. I am "packing." Disaster, obviously.

Packing, because in about twelve hours I'll be on my way to New York. I almost don't believe it. I feel like I just got to Hong Kong three days ago. Five AM, because I am forcing myself to stay up all night - so that I can sleep through the flight.

My last day couldn't have been more amazing and honestly (without sounding too obnoxious), perfect. A friend of mine took me, eleven or so Brazilians, another American chick, and a Canadian out on a yacht excursion to a beautiful (basically deserted) island. We spent twelve hours dancing to techno and doing other "beach" like things. Ha. I had another Hong Kong "first." Driving a speedboat. Incredibly liberating. The idea made me a little bit nervous. I don't exactly want to screw up in the South China Sea. Anyway. No, I definitely don't wear a life jacket. That would be a funny scene though, right? A posh yacht blaring the techno beats. The top level of the yacht full of tan, beautiful Brazilians in bikinis and speedos (and one whiter than a wedding dress, scrappy thing - sporting black-black hair, teal short shorts, hot pink tank top, and an excessive amount of beads). And they ALL are adorned with gross, sickly orange, life jackets (fully secured, obviously).

Spending a day at sea on a beautiful boat is amazing. Put that boat floating near a deserted island, a deserted island full of those mountains Chinese prints so accurately depict. It just.....it is something that doesn't happen in New York. It's something I have never seen before and I wish everyone could see for themselves. It's amazing as is. Experiencing this with some of the most amazing people I have ever met in my life, is surreal. Today I have no "model moments" to report. Everyone I was with have been people I have admired since arriving to Hong Kong.

And of course (as I randomly acquired an Ipod shuffle during the typhoon), it is nowhere to be found when it will be needed the most. Headphones are found - but where the hell is that tiny thing? I knew that it was only a matter of days before losing/breaking it, but damn, the four hours of tracks it does hold - will be four hours of breathing exercises where I possibly still might lose it.

I am super sad to leave. Even found myself with a few tears earlier tonight. It's hard getting to know people in such a short amount of time and then saying goodbye and not knowing if/when I will see them again. With all of the time spent with these people, I feel like I have known some of them longer than some of my friends in the states. I keep trying to justify staying another month, but there are reasons why I need to make a trip to the states. And Hong Kong will always be here. The mountains and islands aren't going anywhere. The densely populated streets aren't getting any thinner. The Big Buddha sure as hell isn't moving. I am fairly certain the clean (minus the tap water and air situatiuon(, efficient status of the city - will always remain the same. However, as amazing as Hong Kong is - the people I have met here have made it that more amazing. They have changed my life. The Brazilians. A culture I didn't know much about - but felt slightly a part of here. Also, a stock trader I met in Taiwan (who lives in HK) completely took care of me and changed my view of the business casual world completely. Four months ago, I would have bet money that I would never anything like that.

I'm exhausted and almost passing out. I'll save my parting words for later. Maybe I'll handwrite a "closing speech" over the course of my nearly sixteen hour flight tomorrow. Wish me luck. I tend to almost vomit the second I step onto a plane. Why can't airlines hire better designers? Everything in airplane/airport world is only full disastrous clashing and even worse fonts.

needing a safety ambassador

2008-08-27T02:27:00.000-07:00

Today I worked one of those half day shoots. I work these quite often. The job is usually for a fashion "story" that is going to be published in a weekly magazine or something close to that. This story was about the line of jeans Diesel and Adidas have teamed up and released. We were shooting at an Adidas store. These types of jobs are really easy (and even more worthless as far as the progression of my career goes). Minimal hair and makeup. Six or so shots - super casual. It takes about four hours of my time.

Hong Kong is obsessed with air conditioning (the slang in HK is air-con). I have never seen anything like it. In fact, I am surprised I haven't dedicated an entire post to the subject. I carry a huge scarf with me everywhere. I get SO cold whenever I have to be inside for more than fifteen minutes. While walking down the street, I get blasts of ice air from people coming in and out of buildings. It's a trend or something. I don't even think it's healthy to go back and forth from unbearably hot to so effing cold. In fact, whenever I go out to dinner, I have to go on "defrost" breaks - because I am that uncomfortable. The Adidas store tops any air-con situation I have had to deal with. Meaning, I wasn't in that great of a mood.

Nothing was in my size.

Client: What size do you wear?
Me: Umm...I don't know. I'm a 23/24.

The smallest pair of jeans they had was a 27. The shoes were all two sizes smaller than what I wear. Whatever, I dealt with it. Until the end of the shoot. I was spending way too much time fitting my foot into a pair of Adidas high-tops. I finally am able to press my foot all the way down and wham pow bang!!! swear words are flying out of my mouth. There was a TACK in the shoe. Not just a little tack, this was a mutant tack. It was literally two inches long. And it went ALL the way into my heel. And now my foot is STUCK in this shoe because it's so small. Two of the girls run over and help get the shoe off. I pull the tack out and my foot starts bleeding.

Client: Are you okay?
Me: Definitely NOT okay. These are shoes that are going to be given to customers, right? What is the deal with the hidden tacks? And whoa, my foot definitely hurts.

The shoes had come out of a box from the storage room. It wasn't a sample or anything like that.

Client: Sorry for the inconvenience.

Inconvenience? Really?

Anyway, my foot still hurts.

So. I'm on my way home. I get off at my stop and approach the escalators. I see two cute Chinese girls with long hair pulled back in a high ponytail standing on either side of the row of escalators. They are wearing hot pink shirts that read "SAFETY AMBASSADOR" and have huge, bright blue megaphones in hand. It was about four thirty PM. Sure, it was crowded. But it's always crowded in this city. I am kind of wondering what they are monitoring. Safety on the escalator? Had something crazy gone down earlier? People are so civilized here. I couldn't even begin to imagine what the use for these girls was. And then I get on and one of the ambassadors points to me and starts speaking into the megaphone. She speaks in Cantonese and then Mandarin....and then I hear, please put your hand on the handrail while on the escalator.

And then I realized, oh, she is here because people like me are always pushing the rules in Hong Kong. That's all.

As a sidenote, I kind of wanted a shirt for my dad, but I figured it was a waste to even inquire where I could find one. I mean, there is no way he would wear pink.

pair of men's briefs and issue of car plus included with purchase

2008-08-25T03:05:00.000-07:00

My uncle once left a comment on my blog. He said something to the degree of, "yeah, but do you really want to MODEL?" I'll admit it, I was a little offended. I'll be the first to admit that modeling is a joke and insanely ridiculous. I know this. However, a lot of people make an opinion of modeling based on America's Next Top Model. Sorry to bring bad news to the table, but ANTM is about as far away from real modeling as one can get. Regardless, I have never once said I'm impacting the world or doing anything incredible. I'm not using my brain as I would be if I had a college degree. I'm definitely not helping out those in need. I'm not my sister who is teaching English in mainland China. I'm not my dad who is absolutely brilliant and spends his days solving problems I can't even begin to understand.

However, I am experiencing the world in every single way I can. I want to see and feel how the universe works. I want to be immersed in a state of sensory overload as much as possible. I want to meet interesting people and travel the world. I want to live in a way that most people don't. And yeah, I don't have a respectable "job title." But the jobs themselves are highly individualized. I have done "on location" shoots in some amazing, beautiful places; I wouldn't have known existed otherwise. I have spent days completely letting my guard down and letting myself go. I have spent days doing things two years ago, no money could have paid me to do (i.e., dancing all day in front of a camera). I have shot for stories that actually mean something to me. Stories that show me in a way I am impressed with. Some of my best shoots have been shot in my darkest moments, when things couldn't have been going worse. By stepping outside of myself, becoming something else, I have gotten through through some of the hardest days of my life. I have met brilliant, talented photographers and made irreplaceable friends. I have worked in New York. Where I am surrounded by talented, creative people. I have spent the last four months in Asia. Two months in Taiwan and now reaching two months in Hong Kong. Asia has taught me (a little bit of) patience. Asia has also had impacted me in other ways. Since being here, I have experienced a major shift in my level of consciousness. I am headed to Australia in a month and have no idea what to expect. And. I love that.

The act of modeling is a joke (for sure). But I would like to believe, that sometimes, my daily life - is not. Not very many people have the opportunity to do what I am doing. And there are huge downsides to it. But at the very least, I love filling up this blog with those downsides. I'm not the happiest person on the planet. I'm definitely not satisfied. But. I'm not miserable in the worthless classes I was taking at Iowa State in my hometown of Ames, Iowa. Creatively repressed and in every way void of stimulation. I'm not sitting at a desk in the middle of summer while I could be at the beach eating cotton candy. I'm not turning down three day getaways to random places like Connecticut and Texas with the cute boy because I "have to work."

So yeah, I'll go ahead and say it again, modeling is a joke. But so are a lot of things on this planet. I have a lot of friends who are musicians, actors and bartenders. Come on, being in a band, is hilarious. They all have their ups and downs. But what they all are definitely not - is a desk job where creative people who aren't ready to settle down get depressed. I worked in an office for seven months. For me, that was the biggest joke on the planet. Wasting my daytime away in a drab room where every morning I found myself discussing the state of the weather. Finding myself at meetings, but not being able to concentrate, because I was so flabbergasted that these people actually used terms such as "going forward...." and whatnot (you all know what I am talking about). Don't get me wrong, I'm not putting down desk jobs. I have a lot of friends who have rad office jobs and are really happy working those jobs. I support that, one hundred percent. Stability is something I definitely don't have. But when I did have this office job, I was twenty and living in New York City. It was getting warm outside. The guy I am totally in love with had just moved to Brooklyn, permanently. I remember that all I wanted to do was run around the city with him and this girl that I adore who is also from Iowa. I wanted to go to art exhibits and walk through Central Park in the morning. I wanted to sit down and drink my coffee while reading a book. As opposed to getting it to-go while I rushed to work. I wanted to go to Coney Island on a Monday morning. If I wanted to walk through a cemetery last minute with a friend, I wanted to be able to say, "give me thirty minutes." If I had friends throwing a frisbee in the air at Mccarren Park, I wanted to join in. If there was a show at midnight on a Tuesday night, I didn't want to say "no" because I had to be up at seven AM. I didn't want to spend my time worrying about deadlines, upset that the scanner was so slow and the printer was always breaking. And. I just lost it. I want to live everyday with the option of being able to do amazing things. Knowing that my time was blocked up from nine to six, five out of the seven days a week, killed me. And there was nothing I could do about it. I could only take so many days off.

So. I quit. And I started working in a bar. I'll also admit that bar jobs aren't exactly something to look up to. However, they pay well and I had the time I wanted to live. I had flexibility in my schedule to do what I wanted to do. But, the late hours and constant flow of douche bags did bring me down. It wasn't long before I was scouted at the bar I worked at. I turned down the offer, but took a card. Five months later, I was moving and found the business card that I hadn't even glanced at. I saw IMG printed in bold, blue letters. I was astonished I hadn't noticed before. I emailed the chick who gave it to me, is it too late? And that was it. That chick, Caroline, is the definition of a saint in my life. She visited me at work shortly after and said, you'll be done with all of this soon. I didn't believe her. Honestly, I couldn't picture anything working out in my life. I am relatively disaster prone. However, five months later, I'm not working in a bar and I'm living in Hong Kong. And even if this was it. If modeling ended here for me, it has been worth it.

Modeling is something that works for me. It is something I can deal with, because I never know what I am in for. Everyday is different. I might have four days of absolutely nothing to do. The fifth day could very well be booked with a rad shoot, in a rad location, working with a rad photographer. Sometimes, I'll be booked with two shoots for one day. I'll finish both of them and find out I have three castings to run to. I had about fifteen days here where I was booked solid everyday. Half of the jobs were decent. The other half - slightly bullshit. On occasion, a shoot will be absolute hell and I'll consider running out of the shoot screaming about every ten minutes. And then there are days, where a shoot is gasp! actually kind of inspiring and fun. It's always up in the air. Which is a good thing for someone like me. It's hard to get bored. If I knew what was coming at me every single day, if I had a SCHEDULE, I would not be able to it. In fact, most days, I don't find out if I have anything to do for the next day until six PM. This makes it hard to plan anything in advance. At the same time, it accentuates the spontaneous side of me, which is always way more rewarding than any sort of "plan." And while standing around in front of a camera is one of the easiest things on the planet, I have worked really fucking hard to get to where I am at.

So. As far as modeling being hilarious goes, sometimes I do have to go through some hilarious and possibly humiliating bullshit.

About a month ago, I stopped into my agency to pick up my job details for a shoot I had the next day. When I have a job, I pick up this sheet of paper called a "voucher." It will give me the address, time of shoot, number of hours booked and any sort of odd details I might need to know (you know, please where nude thong, that type of thing). It also contains a contract, which the client has to sign at the end of the shoot. On this evening, the client was stated as, HIM. I hadn't been in Hong Kong long. I wasn't familiar with most of Hong Kong's magazines. But I'm thinking, oh-no, this sounds like Maxim or something. And it kind of was. In the states, I would never book a job for a men's magazine. However, in Asia, I am the ideal men's model (or something close to it). Hong Kong's version of a men's magazine, is some anime chick (meaning, they made me more white, put me in bright red lips and told me to open my eyes wide) standing/laying around in a white leotard and other similar attire. The shoot was fine. It wasn't sleazy. It wasn't anything I would have to hide from my family and everyone else in New York who has any respect for me. But I do remember thinking, for a fashion spread, this isn't exactly stand out fashion. It was more about "me." Not the typical editorial.

When I was told we were done shooting, I clearly thought I was done working. I cleaned the pale/red makeup off my face and started packing up my bag. But no, wait! The art director stopped me and pulled out the current issue of HIM. She pointed out a section where HIM highlights a girl every month - whether it's an actress, pop singer....or model.

Art director: For next issue, you be diva girl of the month!

Me: Diva girl?

Her: Yes. see diva section. Did you know you very beautiful? And we all think you so cool!!! We pick you for the issue.

Me:Umm..... And here I am, just trying not to laugh.

Her: I need you to answer these questions for the profile page.

I was immediately filled with one hundred percent terror. In New York, whenever I have to do this sort of thing, I go with my usual self. Dry and sarcastic. However, I knew that if I went this route, no one would get it. Sarcasm isn't a huge theme in conversations here. I also knew it would be translated into characters. If my answers didn't make sense, I was at risk of having them ( for lack of a better term), "lost in translation." Ha! But I knew that I also could not answer the questions directly and honestly. By doing this, I was basically throwing any self worth I have retained in this ridiculous industry right off the Hong Kong peak. Finally, I knew that either way I went, I definitely did not have men's magazine "worthy" answers. The questions were ridiculous, too. Only questions about myself (obviously). For example, all time favorite memorable event, hobbies, favorite food, MOST SATISFYING BODY PART, etc. I went the casual, dry route. Told myself to avoid anything sardonic, but that I didn't need to be thorough and well, lame. When question time was over, art director chick looked at me and said: I don't really get it. But we think you so cool.

So. This afternoon I get a text from a friend who had noticed the magazine was just put out. She told me to pick it up and that I looked "great." Sometimes I feel nervous to open magazines I am in. I just never know how something is going to turn out. This was one of those times. But I told myself I should probably buy the magazine right away and get it over with. I went down to the newsstand next to my building and was surprised to see only two copies left. It was a little bit unsettling. I am picturing tons of men in Hong Kong, at this very second, flipping through the magazine and gazing at photos of me. This might be thinking a little bit too highly of myself. However, it is not a super thick magazine. It is also an eight page spread (just of me) with a "profile" included. Anyone who picks up the magazine, is going to see me. Anyway. I had a hard time picking up the magazine at the newsstand. I thought it was tangled up in other magazines or some weird binding. No, definitely not. Turns out when I buy HIM (stated as HK's no. 1 men's magazine); I am also purchasing a pair of bright yellow, men's briefs and this month's issue of Car Plus.

I headed across the street to the coffee joint that I have mentioned, the one that carries vegetarian lasagna, to muse over the issue while filling my stomach with warm goodness and memories of my mom's home cooked dinners (seemingly appropriate with HIM and a pair of briefs in hand). The shoot is surprisingly relatively decent. Meaning, I look okay. It's not super cheesy (as a lot of Asian shoots are) and I am not as ashamed of it as I thought I would be. While staring at the profile, which I definitely can't read, I noticed a part in English. A name I had mentioned, the boy in New York. Meaning, they didn't change my answers - they left them as is!

existential crisis style freak out mode

2008-08-20T11:11:00.000-07:00

What to say about Hong Kong....

You know, Hong Kong is "normal" in a lot of ways. Nothing too crazy going on. I think if I hadn't lived in New York for a few years this would be a totally insane experience. Even the tall buildings would freak me out. But Hong Kong is kind of everything I avoided in New York - just condensed and expanded. Like....bankers, obsessive guys, dead animals hanging out everywhere, crowds and tons of models. Surprisingly, I really like it here. The nature aspect of Hong Kong is amazing. The Chinese influence is also amazing. It's safe. Hong Kong's skyline puts NYC to shame. People I wouldn't have even looked at in New York - are my best friends here. I think that means Asia has had a positive influence on me?

However, I have been gone almost four months. And, some things are really getting old. I'm tired of non-verbally communicating, trying to find food that doesn't make me gag or contain hidden animal chunks and not being able to relate to anyone. I am tired of models and bankers (okay, bankers have actually grown on me...but saying that all "for real style" changes my whole identity) and guys who get so obsessed over me. I'm tired of techno music and westerners who make me wish I wasn't born in America. I'm tired of not being able to get anywhere on time because there are so many fucking people here and you know, they really walk quite slow. Not really any slower than anyone else in New York, I think maybe I just have issues with patience. But still. It's definitely way more crowded here. Way more crowded.

Anyway. I had the afternoon off yesterday and the free time sent me into "existential crisis mode." This is a mode I use to get into quite often in New York. But for some reason in Asia, I am way less of a crazy person (meaning, it took me by surprise).

It started off with me not wanting to wake up. Usually, I'm up at six AM - at yoga or drinking tea, awake and happy. Yesterday, I was hitting snooze until nine fifteen and complaining out loud that I hated life. I somehow made it to this casting that I had no directions to, just the name of the building. I get there only to be greeted by sixty other models (who were a few more minutes more on time then I was) waiting to be seen. I sit down on the floor. Wait an hour. An hour, yeah. There are about thirty of us left and this lady walks in and tells us to get in a LINE. We stand there and one by one she eliminates models. She gets to me and says, thank you, BYE BYE. Um, thanks. I walk outside and it's raining. I get on the train, but the wrong train. I finally make it home. Walking through the first floor hallway I slip and fall, hard. And then get to the elevator to find the elevator is "out of service." I live on the sixth floor.

I sit down in front of my computer and immediately decide I'm depressed and failing at life. I start missing New York. I start missing that guy that I love so much in New York and all of the sudden I find myself in the middle of an existential crisis. Thankfully, two good friends were online (love you James and Kimi) and talked me out of anything more crazy then just feeling crazy. They both live on the west coast, LA and San Francisco. The idea of fleeing to one of the two has been appealing for quite some time - I just can't decide what the hell I would do on the west coast. I guess what I do in NY. Or, whatever.

Anyway. I figured the whole thing would go away. I went to dinner with a friend. Felt a little better. But no. Woke up today and thought everything was fine. Worked a quick job. Got home and had the same freak out. It's like, give me an hour of free time and I all of the sudden lose it. Is that normal? I went to yoga and have been home for a bit. I talked to my agent on the phone and it looks like I might get to come back to NY for a few days. No details yet, but it could happen.

I'm going to Sydney on the 28th or 29th of September.

I'm feeling better. Something about actually having a timeline of events is helping. I'm not stuck in Asia forever, forgotten about, or never going home. I'm just here for a little bit longer. And. Considering that I like it a lot, I might as well make the most of it.

I guess the thing is....modeling is really quite ridiculous. It's like being in a band or acting, but way worse. My friend said yesterday, you really should start saying you are a "stander."

Person A: What do you do?
Me: Mostly, stand. Sit on occasion. Sometimes put my hands on my hips and hyper-extend my elbows, but only for couture. You know, when it's worth it.

I kind of laughed at this conversation because it's so true. And the problem is, no one wants to be an unsuccessful model. Being a model is one thing - kind of a joke, but whatever. I mean, I'm getting paid to stand, right? But unsuccessful? That's a really terrible idea.

I don't think my existential crisis style freak outs are that unwarranted.

By the way, that casting was definitely the most ridiculous casting I have ever been on. I have a few more tomorrow and my expectations are nothing but low.

I'l keep you (the reader) posted.

** By the way, is anyone on twitter? I definitely just joined (and I can't figure out why).

american mom style

2008-08-16T04:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was talking to a friend and she mentioned that the coffee shop near my apartment also serves lasagna (with a veggie option). Lasagna is something I never craved or made a point to eat in America. However, when she said the word "lasagna", my stomach immediately forgot that I had just eaten lunch and was on my way to yoga. I just had to have it.

Don't get me wrong, Hong Kong has tons of international restaurants. In fact, I eat Indian and Mediterranean food on a regular basis. But what Hong Kong lacks is the dirt cheap (not to mention, dirty) food stops that grace every New York City corner (making it possible for people like me to live in that city). The entire city is decorated with two dollar stops of pizza, falafel and the best bagels on the planet. Here, 7-eleven and other similar convenience stores have done a good job providing me with purified water, ice cream, and other snacks. However, they are incomparable to the thousands of bodegas every borough in that city is swamped with. I never thought I would miss my local, grumpy, Dominican sandwich maker who carelessly but somewhat professionally makes me whatever I want (although the end product is usually something I didn't order) in a matter of seconds.

Most of my "meals" are eaten while I am headed somewhere or when I have a random free ten minutes. You know, on the go. I honestly don't have time for an hour lunch break or a sit down breakfast. When I do sit down and eat dinner, it's usually not until ten PM. Hong Kong is nothing but classy and most international restaurants are sit down style and located in one area. They are generally pricey (especially for a broke model who still has not been paid for the two months spent working in Taiwan). Combine all of that with being vegetarian and I have found myself stuck in a rather boring routine of what I eat every week. Simple, easy, cheap, and accessible. A lot of fruit and rice, broccoli and other greens....you know, stuff where I (most likely) won't find a chicken's foot hiding out. Food I know won't make me sick. I do mix it up a few times a week and order from a not-so-great but definitely acceptable cheap Mediterranean chain called Ebeneezers. The hummus falafel and side order of samosas brings a little bit of spice into my most monotonous days. But, something like lasagna, is in a whole separate class as far as food anecdotes go. Lasagna is something I eat when I go home to see my family.

So. Just the mention of lasagna sent me down nostalgic avenue and instantly made me crave a loud, cheerful, Sunday dinner (where dinner topics range anywhere from politics, religion, psychology, is Celine Dion any good, and who the hottest survivor on the Lost island is) back in Iowa at my grandparent's house - filled with cousins, aunts, uncles and my immediate family.

Basically, I have eaten lasagna three times in the past forty eight hours. I'm sure it doesn't even compare to an "American Mom style" cooked lasagna - but it sure as hell is hitting the spot.

* I linked the trailer to a friend's project called Deleted the Game awhile back. The first episode is up and after watching it - I only want more, more and more. Check it out here.

** I got an email from a friend in New York who has been working on a new record. You can hear a new (really phenomenal) track and read about the new record here and here.

***My friend, in her blog, linked a blog of one of her friends -who is currently working in Zambia. The blog is nothing but fascinating. I am putting it on my link list and highly recommend giving it a read.

dividing by seven

2008-08-14T05:44:00.001-07:00

I had this whole blog written in my head debating whether or not cab drivers discriminate against Westerners. I have had several experiences where I try to wave down a vacant, on duty cab and the cab drives past me without slowing down. In places like New York and even Taipei, cabs will do anything to get a fare. Doesn't matter what it is. If it involves gaining a fare - they aren't messing around. A few nights ago, I was running late for dinner. I ran out of my apartment, saw a cab on it's way, ran into the street....and well. It sped right by me. Being American, my New York dark side came out and I muttered some words under my breath and even contemplated flipping the guy off.

Two seconds later.

Chinese man on street: Excuse me, miss, I think cab doesn't stop because you aren't following the rules.

Me: What?!

Chinese man on street: Yes. Look at railing. You aren't supposed to be there. They won't break the rules, too.

In Hong Kong, sections of streets have railings dividing the street from the sidewalk. It's frustrating when the railings last for blocks and all I want to do is cross the damn street. I'm not sure what the purpose is. I guess it's a safety thing. Of course, being whatever I am (me), after four weeks of living here, I had never noticed the railing in front of my building. In fact, I walk around and in front of it all the time. And here I am, being corrected on my rule-breaking (again), by some polite man in Hong Kong. Honestly, it's kind of embarrassing. Stupid white girl being crazy in the street - that's me.

I can't decide if this whole rule culture is crazy or is it that I am really terrible at following rules, guidelines, orders, dirctions, etc.? Is that genetic or learned (family members who study psychology and whatnot, do you know?)

The weird thing about the rule culture here, is that it works. People don't break the rules. Even MTR stations organize people traffic, entrances, etc. by low railings. This would never work in New York. In New York, people would be "hopping the fence" on a regular basis. I mean, I probably would too. In fact, I have jumped and climbed many things in my life, all over America. The only bad thing that has come from it is a hole in my black jeans. This occurred while in Houston, Texas. It was my friend's birthday and we took a walk. We stumbled upon an abandoned house, which we broke into. We lost track of time and when we realized we had to be back in the downtown area (miles away) in fifteen minutes...we ended up hitchhiking our way back.

True story. For my family and the other good rule followers who read this (even people like Andy and Lindsey, assuming kids are only minutes away in your plan), you can hand a downloaded copy of this blog to your kids as soon as they turn eighteen (or maybe way before) and say, just do the opposite of this and you'll probably be fine.

***

Another note on cabs in Hong Kong. Well, they are red. I'm into riding around at night in a red cab. It just feels good. Do you know what I mean?

Also, cabs here have a sticker on the back that says they fit five people. In New York, it's always a battle to fit five people in a cab. Cab drivers don't want to do it (and rarely do). Here, it's totally fine and legal. It's not because the cabs are any bigger. It's because the people here are consistently that much smaller.

***

I was eating dinner with a British friend last week at an Italian restaurant. We were in an area that is heavily populated by Westerners. The table next to us was a six person American family. They were talking and talking and honestly, it was quite loud and obnoxious. I said something to my friend along the lines of: Sometimes, I am really embarrassed that I am American. He looked at me and said: Yeah the way Americans talk is often times embarrassing. I think maybe it's that slow drawl a lot of you seem to have. Just as he was saying that, we overheard this...

American son: I'm telling you Dad, if you would just read Fast Food Nation front to back, you would never, ever touch fast food again.
American dad: I don't know son, I sure love that McFlurry at McDonald's.

As the dinner went on, the conversation moved from McDonald's desserts to how good the bacon is at Peter Luger. Peter Luger, for those of you who don't know, is a well known steak house in Brooklyn. The mother made a point that it was the only place in Brooklyn to show Brooklyn's "real side." Whatever that means. In my opinion, the Marcy Projects show the real side of Brooklyn, but that is just me. The conversation then moved to how the traffic police in Hong Kong should (obviously) put a reflecting sticker on the back of every single Hong Kong car to help prevent traffic dangers. I still can't make sense of this argument. The son was convinced that the officers should literally walk around and place stickers on everyone's cars. This is better then the headlights every car already uses? The dinner ended with the son and mom telling the rest of the family about lunch.

Mom: I mean, we went to get traditional Chinese food for lunch. And well, you tell them son, this is too much for me. It was really aggravating.

Son: First of all, we couldn't read the menu because it was in characters. Second of all, we didn't get anything we actually wanted because both of the employees working didn't speak a lick of English! Can you believe that? Both of them!

Utterly embarrassing. Almost as bad as the heavily overweight couple I was stuck sitting behind on a crowded bus two weeks ago. Not only were they publicly arguing about the Hong Kong / US dollar conversion for everything they were buying (you know, water and fast food), the woman made a point to say if she had a calculator dividing by seven would be way easier. Their conversation then moved to whether or not they should take a cab back to their hotel or get off the bus and switch to the train. The husband exclaimed: Let me tell you something honey, I am so TIRED of being around so many Asians. I feel like ALL we have done ALL day is been around thousands of people. We are taking a cab, I don't care about the conversion. He then turned into the crowded aisle and started coughing up a storm. I have never seen a group of Asians so publicly horrified. These men in business suits who were stuck in the aisle were literally covering their mouths and leaning as far away as they could from the man. He proceeded to do this two more times. This is when I told my friend we were getting off the bus early - so that everyone on the bus knew they weren't our parents.

In Hong Kong, it's just not cool to cough all over people. This is why there are signs everywhere about spreading germs and wearing a mask if you are sick. People here are also scared of things like SARS. I really don't get where people from my country get away with acting like this. Did you not read a guidebook on the flight over? Hong Kong is full of people. Oh, and it's a foreign country so expecting them to speak a "lick" of English is really quite absurd.

champagne and ice cream.

2008-08-11T05:59:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I was at this "after dinner party type thing" (as if that was any sort of description). It was in some weird building in Wan Chai, on some weird floor, full of weird people I know and don't know. I was sitting at a large table with a few others. A waiter in a tuxedo came over and dropped off a bottle of champagne and this huge bucket of ice cream. Kind of an odd combo, but I'm not going to argue with it. He set it down and then came back with two trays of meat. This chick next to me, some girl I have never seen before, dives into these two trays. That's right, both of them. She has each of her hands in a tray and is just downing this meat. I was literally watching her scoop it up and throw it to the back of her throat as if it was a shot of Jameson in a lower east side bar. She even said something to the degree of, I'm just SO hungry. After several handfuls were scarfed down, she looked up and said: So, what is this ? The waiter happened to be nearby. He turned around and said: Oh! This is chicken hands. See, here is the thumb. And this over here is chicken ovaries.

The best part was watching the girl trying to play off the situation in a super chill manner. As if she hadn't attacked the precious chicken parts like she was a pet cat trying to get a hold of the cat nip you are cleverly dangling above it's head.

Anyway. We have a new episode up - an episode about Hong Kong. Check it out.

my options for purse shopping are nothing but narrow.

2008-08-10T10:10:00.001-07:00

I'm behind on the posting and I wish I wasn't.

Honestly, I'm really, really busy. I don't have spare energy for anything except eating ice cream cones (yes, the HK ice cream stike is OVER) from Circle K (which is wayyy better than 7-eleven), lighting incense in my closet sized apartment, responding to text messages and occasionally giving people vampire hugs on Facebook. As far as modeling goes, this is the busiest I have ever been. I am working everyday, sometimes two jobs a day. Last week, I was fortunate enough to book a job that is covering most or even all of my expenses for the duration of my stay in Hong Kong. This is kind of the "model goal." As my friend put it, this is what we call a "money job." In Asia, jewelry jobs typically pay the most money, even topping the oh-so-popular underwear jobs. In general, I book a ton of editorials. For those of you outside of the modeling world, editorials are fashion spreads in magazines. Pages of me in some weird location or typical studio, making weird poses while wearing weird clothes and super uncomfortable heels. I'm always cast as the "odd" model. Meaning, I have the joy of taking photos in the most uncomfortable situations on the planet. You know, decked out in a heavy coat and winter hat while crawling through the forest, jumping on a trampoline in a super short dress while looking "cool" - that kind of thing.

These are the types of jobs that I am in Asia for. The whole reason why I was sent so far away. These jobs give me "tears." Tears are actual pages "torn" out of a magazine that get placed in my "book." My book being my portfolio. A heavy, inconveniently sized book (full of pictures only of myself) that I carry around everyday. The biggest issue with the book is that it has completely altered my options for purse shopping. I always have, will my book fit in this, on my mind. Anyway. The goal is to fill up my portfolio with as many editorials as possible. Editorials lead to better jobs which is supposed to lead to better money. The problem is, editorials pay almost nothing. Being "in" a magazine might seem exciting, but the paycheck makes my occupation seem more like self-indulgent volunteer work. SO. Working this job last week, billboards for a jewelry company in mainland China (be on the lookout for an alien girl jumping around and dancing with tons of clunky jewelry on, sis), was a huge relief. One job, one (long) day and now I can relax.

***

Last week was interesting for other reasons, as well. My sister was in town for two days. She is teaching English for the next five months in mainland China. She had never left the country and I feel lucky to have been the one who she spent her first culture shocked and jet lagged forty eight hours with. I taught her how to ride the MTR - you know, how to insert the MTR card correctly (harder then it sounds). Actually, I think she topped my mom and grandma on hilarious stuck behind the turnstile moments. I showed her around the city - filled her in on basic China knowledge. Yes, you can buy q-tips, tampons and even hand sanitizer in China (after all, it is all made here). I even taught her how to cheat the MTR system. Buy the children ticket and save money - if someone stops you, pull out the "I am a foreigner" card. I took her to a nice Chinese dinner and a trashy Western breakfast. We went to the Peak by bus, Mong Kok (the most densely populated area in the entire world) by train, the beach by taxi, Kowloon by ferry and a lot of areas by foot where I heard classic "I drive a car everywhere" lines (can't walk another step, legs hurt, etc). I introduced her to some models. Including a Brazilian who walks around in the tiniest speedo known to man....and oh yeah, walked her through the red light district (seemingly necessary for a girl who just spent a year in Utah, something to tell the parents about).

And...I turned twenty two last week. I am just as surprised as everyone else that I am still alive with all limbs in tact, no disabilities or diseases apparent. I spent the day in my apartment (aka shithole the size of a cardboard box). Not by choice. Hong Kong was graced with a level 8 typhoon which cancelled my job and shut down all means of transportation and every business in the city. I made the mistake of letting someone order me food at a job the day before (while I was shooting for Cosmo, rocking it). Spent about six hours throwing up while accompanied with heavy winds and rain as backup noise. I did make it to a dinner where I was lucky enough to be surrounded by healthy, beautiful friends who cheered me up. Proof of my sickness -here.

The good news is - yoga is working! While stuck in my apartment I quickly ran out of things to do. I did some basic stretching and when I bent over my hands TOUCHED THE GROUND. For twenty two years I have been embarrassed that I can't bend over and touch the ground without bending my knees. Three weeks of yoga and I couldn't be more excited. Typhoon and sickness aside, this is the best "I made it another year" gift, ever.

As a side note, yes, I use to be hip and rad (I just re-read, did some basic stretching, did I really say that?). But then I moved to Asia. I wear shorts and flip flops, dresses that just kind of hang off my skinny limbs (aka, no fitted hipster clothes), I haven't looked at Pitchfork in weeks, I listen to minimal techno on a regular basis, spend my free time at the yoga studio, go to bed early, get excited about eating fruit, take the public bus quite often...you get the picture. I come home at night to light incense (and find joy in deciding which scent of incense to burn) and drink tea until I pass out. I'm more of a grunge-y hippie than anything. Definitely don't know what's up anymore.

***

It's hard being away because sometimes I feel really guilty. Guilty that I am away from people that I love and care about. Guilty that my entire family is in Tahoe right now and I am missing out on seeing my sweet cousins that are growing up so fast. Guilty that I am missing other major events like weddings and huge shows that some of my closest friends are playing to thousands of people. Guilty that I get so busy and caught up in my superficial world that I get behind on keeping in touch with people. Guilty that I consciously tell myself to throw out the "heart" side of me, the side that is always screaming opinions and feelings. Guilty that I actually do throw it all out and say out loud, lets be logical now, focus on your career. Guilty that I tell myself, think about yourself here, stop feeling like this, stop feeling like that. I hope it's all worth something.

I was talking to a good friend online the other night. I told him yoga has been great because I am learning how to recognize and eliminate my distractions. He asked me: What distractions? I replied: You know, I'm always freaking out that I'm not going to make it, that I won't be successful - stuff like that. And he said to me: But you ARE successful. You are super successful right now. Working everyday, internationally. What are you talking about?

Two things crossed my mind. First: Wow - what a revelation. I AM making it, I'm doing quite well. But that thought was quickly overrode with: If this is successful, if this is why I am working so hard, wow - success couldn't be more unsatisfying.

My agency here asked me if I wanted to extend my stay. If I stayed an extra month or two, I could make more money, hit every magazine and maybe other clients in Hong Kong. I really don't know what to do. This is why I have a manager, a whole team of people, real adults who work in offices, who make decisions for me. I leave everything up to them and try not to put any of my input into the options I have. If I did put my real feelings into these types of things, the selfish side of me would come out. I would say stupid things like: I really need to go back to New York for a couple of weeks. I kind of want to hang out. Plus, I miss this really cute boy there, a lot. As of today, everything is still up in the air. The decision is pending on my transfer to Sydney. Originally, I was going to come back to New York for a bit and then go to Sydney. This plan has changed. And I'm posting all of this on my blog because I have told a couple of people that I am not coming back and quite frankly, it really hurt.

The hardest part of this whole ordeal is that I fell heavily in love right before I left for Taiwan. With a boy who I have loved for quite some time, but it was one of those things that was always crazy and fucked. I have never missed anything. I have always been able to detach. I have always been into running away and escaping. Leaving New York was something that I wanted to do. I wanted to get the hell out of that city. Leave and forget it exists for awhile and when I come back see what happens. But now I have something in that city that I can't get out of my head. He's on my mind every single fucking day. It's a feeling I have never felt before. I feel sad because he's not around and I can't escape the feeling. I don't even want to escape the feeling because honestly, even with Skype, brief phone conversations and the occasional text message as my only means of communication - being in love with him feels amazing.

Knowing that I could be gone for much longer, not even knowing how long I'll be gone or where I will be in four weeks...well, I'm kind of scared. it scares me to think that I could lose him for this. It scares me to think of how sad I'll be in a week, in a month, two months, three months...because honestly, the missing doesn't get easier - it only gets more intense.

I'm hoping that the logical side of me is on point. That "this" is all worth something. "This" is what I am "supposed" to be doing. That my daily existential crisis is just that, a daily existential crisis. And as usual, I'm not going to interfere with the path my life is on. I'm going to let it keep going and assume everything will work out at some point. I'm going to let these people keep making decisions for me. It's a good thing, I think. I have a hard time running my life. I don't even want to make these decisions. I'm grateful to have decisions that need to be made. And when I look past the sadness, my life is currently fucking amazing. I am having a really good time and I couldn't be working more. I 'm doing all of "this" in a foreign country where I live completely alone in the tiniest apartment on the planet and it's nothing but the good kind of sensory overload.

I guess I have to to accept the fact that I am never super happy or satisfied, accept that I don't have much of a positive outlook on the future...and I guess I am going to keep working in hopes that it will get me somewhere, get me to a point where I can say I've done it, I've lived and I have seen the world and I have had life altering experiences and yes, this world is a joke, but I gave it a fucking good chance.

please queue up here.

2008-07-30T02:36:00.000-07:00

My closest friend in Hong Kong, this rad chick from Tijuana, left on Sunday. I had met her in New York (where she is based) months ago and was quite surprised when I ran into her at my agency my first day here. A few days before she took off, she introduced me to the term, "model moment."

Tijuana chick: So. Today I had a model moment.
Me: Wait, what is a model moment?

(I am listening to her and thinking, did she have some revelation about modeling? Did something brilliant happen on a shoot that I am going to hear all about?)

Tijuana chick: Yeah. I checked the yoga schedule. Got on the train, showed up and told the receptionist I was there for the two thirty class. She told me there was no two thirty class. Guess I didn't read the schedule correctly.

Okay. Got it. Model moments. When one truly acts in character as a model in their normal, daily life. I'm embarrassed to admit, I have had a couple of those this week. Actually, three.

Model Moments of the Week:

1) Ten AM shoot. I'm standing on the street with the address in hand. I know it is supposed to be on the block that I am on. I call my agent three times, can't find this place, doesn't exist. She tells me I am probably standing right in front of it. A few minutes later, someone yells my name. The client is standing directly behind me at the steps of the location. I was standing right in front of it.

2) I get on a bus from Chai Wan around midnight. The bus is headed to Causeway Bay, where I live. I decide to get out because nothing looks familiar and I figure that I have to live somewhere close to where I am getting off. Not the case. Turns out I got out exactly three subway stops from where I live. Had a bit longer on that bus.

3) Today I read my job detail sheet. It tells me to go to Quarry Bay, Taikoo Place MTR stop. I switch everything around all dyslexic style and convince myself that the shoot is in the same complex as my yoga studio, which is called Taikoo Place and is off the Quarry Bay MTR stop. I go to yoga and then try to find the shoot. I realize I'm way off on the address and walk an entire subway stop until I find the place.

I'm sure we all have had our fair share of "model moments." But it is way worse when modeling is your chosen profession.

***

I find out about castings via text message. Rock on two thousand great, how easy and efficient is that? Anyway. Today I got a text that said this: sony camera tvc casting, tmr 31jul 12 pm, cast cafe, ms piano, 16/f, morrison comm bldg, 31 morrison hill rd, causeway bay, casual wear in style, no cutie look.

I've been going through my clothes all afternoon. The problem is, I can't figure out how to avoid "cutie." Not to mention, how to be "in style." I'll have to ask Ms. Piano for some visuals on what she actually wanted when I arrive tomorrow.

***

So. Since Tijuana chick left, I have been nothing but a bore. Not much to report on. Not boring by choice, but I'm honestly really busy. I have been working everyday, sometimes two jobs a day. It's a relief to be so busy with jobs that I have no reason to complain about.

The work here is not bad at all. About half of it is worthwhile and the other half is kind of bullshit. Most of my shoots are themed. The client has photos and ideas of what to "make me." Playing dress up all day, that's what I do. For example, on Monday, I was dressed up in clown inspired wear (orange curly wig and all). Today, the stylist told me I was going to be Madonna all day. The male Brazilian model at the shoot was styled as Michael Jackson. And yes, I'm aware. My "profession" is nothing but ridiculous when I attempt to talk about it. But. The shoots are actually more than okay, decent photographers with decent stylists. Plus, male South American models, can't complain about that (ever). I love anything South American - especially when it comes in good-looking boy form.

***

The best word to describe Hong Kong is "efficient." Everything is made to work easily. The amount of public transportation available is incredible - tram, double decker bus, mini bus, taxi, subway, etc. The quality is mind blowing, considering the amount of people who make use of it everyday. My theory on the subject goes a little something like this. Quality in public transportation in Hong Kong is superb because people in Hong Kong are all about following the rules. In New York, respectful isn't exactly the trend. But here, no one is going to trash the subway or try to create chaos on a bus. Everyone in Hong Kong is seemingly a rule-abiding citizen. The police don't even wear bulletproof vests. In fact, I took a sip of my water on the train a couple of days ago and someone told me it was "against the rules." Correcting people on the rules? Really? Over a sip of water? It's one hundred degrees outside and humid. It's not like I was downing a forty ounce of Budweiser. Regardless, I put the water bottle back in my bag.

And I'm sorry to dwell on the queuing situation here, but I can't get over it. At the subway stop near my apartment, there are three escalators available for exiting the station. Everyday, I get to the three escalators and see one that is fully packed (always the same one). Not just fully packed, but a line to get on it. The middle escalator is always medium packed. Busy, but not crammed. And everyday, the third escalator is completely empty. I almost feel like they all know something I don't know. You know, kind of like the mask situation. Here I am thinking these people are crazy for wearing surgical masks. Turns out they are protecting other citizens from their own diseases and colds. I don't know what's up with this escalator, but it could be demon filled or something and I just don't know it. So, naturally, I always feel a little guilty and awkward when I decide to get on it. Unless it's possible that the people here love "queuing" that much. A lot of the bus stops have signs that read, Please Queue Up Here. Maybe this is why everyone is so into lines? Because when it is stated like that, it kind of sounds like a rule.

bad fonts and midwest strip malls.

2008-07-23T04:37:00.000-07:00

After only the most positive encouragement (and constant pestering by two boys - sorry men - in Taipei), an amazing girl I have met in Hong Kong convinced me to to join Pure Yoga. I mentioned yoga in last week's post, but with no details. I had made a commitment to myself not to turn into one of those yoga freaks. But. I'm going to admit it, I am loving yoga and have been going everyday. Pure recently opened up a studio in New York. So. To all my angst ridden, nihilist, hipster friends - you should all give it a shot. Kidding. Clearly, I only surround myself with grinning, choir singing, clean-cut, college graduates who go to church (like myself).

I officially started working (see: stand in front of camera) yesterday. Yesterday's shoot consisted of near one hundred degree weather and me in complete winter gear taking photos in nature. I somehow managed to get sunburned and am also covered in scary insect bites. Today's shoot was a little different as it took place in a studio. I was asked to do "mannequin poses." Meaning, I stood in six inch Louis Vuitton heels and did the robot dance all day. After the thousands of visually violating "garments" I had to wear in Taipei, the past two days have been nothing but comforting.

However, I'm going to put this out there and admit that the eyelash curler scares the hell out of me. Every time I see the clamps headed for my luscious (already elongated) lashes, I can't help but think I transformed (Kafka style) into Alex Delarge and am part of some government brainwashing scheme. And for those of you who don't have other people curl your lashes, when the curl master goes wrong, it's really painful. Literally, shock therapy in the making.

I'm still having problems finding real food to eat. A couple of days ago, I decided to explore Lamma Island. While waiting for my ferry back to the city, I ordered fried rice and vegetables to kill some time. I was only a little surprised to find a couple of worms hanging out in the greens. Fortunately, I've seen so many terrifying spiders in Asia, worms don't raise much of a reaction out of me.

Throughout my entire life my main fears have been needles and spiders. I also don't like wrists, but that can be a blog post of it's own. This year, I've confronted my fear of needles by trying out acupuncture (not to mention all the drug experimentation). Kidding, parents, kidding. I'm excited, because now I can finally get the huge lower back tattoo I've always wanted. You know, some yin and yang, maybe some Chinese characters. Seems fitting. The typical tramp stamp has always struck me as charming and clever. ANYWAY. Spiders are really scary and now top my list of fears. The yoga friend I mentioned spent three days in the hospital here after she was bit in her bed. The bite became infected and moved up her leg. I'm not too happy that this kind of thing happens. I'm also not too happy that Australia is home to about a million horrifying insects I never knew existed. Sydney is my next stop on the model tour and I now have many sleepless nights charted with only Google page loads of "deadly insects found in Australia." Also, my friend, recently told me about this monster called the brown recluse spider. I haven't been the same since I completed a Google image search on the subject. In fact, I take back my Taipei garment comment. The brown recluse bite is the most visually violating thing I have ever seen. Well, after bad fonts and Midwest strip malls.

Right. So as far as Hong Kong goes, I go to yoga and research spiders when I find the time. Sometimes I model, too.

green means stop.

2008-07-17T02:26:00.000-07:00

So. I have been in Hong Kong for a week. Still fascinated and still love it. This week has been nothing but good vibes. Aesthetically, I feel as if I am in some Kubrick style trance. I can walk and walk and walk all day and feel completely satisfied. Taipei is a beautiful city, but I couldn't be happier to be out of there.

Similarities to Taipei:

Lines: People in Asia love waiting in line. I made this observation to my cab driver the other night and he replied: Yes, we love to queue for anything. If there is a line, everyone is jumping in it. A couple of days ago, I saw people spend hours and hours in front of every Bank of China in town. They were literally standing in line all day. It turns out, they were waiting to buy the new twenty dollar note (olympic decorated or something). It's really, really hot here - they all had paper fans and umbrellas, but does that really do the trick? Also, subway lines. Everyone uses the escalators. No one walks up or down them. They wait in line to get on the escalator, wait in line on the escalator and even wait in line to get on the train.

Sleeping: It's totally fine to spend any amount of time sleeping in public places and no one will say a word.

Hairstylists: I noticed that in Taipei I found myself hitting on the straight hairstylists. My only explanation was that I really miss two of my all time favorite straight (hot) hairstylist friends in New York (that's you Billy Keith and Chuck). I thought it was a phase. Turns out all I want to do is hang out with super hip straight hair guys in Hong Kong. The only difference here is that every other person I meet is a hairstylist. Last night, my cutting friend Alex said, It's not exactly a good profession here, there are more salons then 7-elevens. Everyone wants to cut hair. I'm going to be selfish about it and say it's perfect for my emotional sanity. I think hairstylists might universally be the "go-to" for having fun and finding what you want to find in a city.

Music: Karaoke bars and pop singers. I'll never understand.

Negatives:

Traffic lights: There are speakers attached to every traffic light. These speakers blare (all day, everyday) a cow-bell sounding "tick" while the light is red. As soon as the light turns green the bell starts ringing as if it's having an epileptic fit. Are there really enough blind people in Hong Kong to justify something that disrupts the rest of the population's energy and thoughts all the time? Not to mention, sometimes I am in intersection that has so many stops and turns there are several bells clashing with each other. I have okay eye sight and I totally get confused. Doesn't seem efficient.

Food: I can't eat anything here. Hong Kong makes Taipei look like the veggie capitol of the world.

Positives:

Apartment: I live in a "service apartment" by myself in an area called Causeway Bay. Causeway is fairly crowded and a bit annoying, but the location is perfect and I can walk to anything I need.

Castings: I go to castings by myself. Meaning, I'm not stuck in a van all day!

People: I run into people I know all the time here. People from New York and Taipei. Can't complain.

Beijing models: I have been running around to castings with two gorgeous (with style I'll never top) models from Beijing. They don't speak English, but they do speak Mandarin. We had somehow figured out that we get along (whatever that means) and started spending afternoons together. We spent a couple of days in total communication confusion and then decided to start playing language games. All day we point to things and say the English and Mandarin word out loud. We're starting to be able to "kind of" communicate.

Hilarious moment of the week:

Pick up line: There are a lot of people who claim the lifestyle of "trading stocks" in this city. Lots of bros in suits. A lot of them are Westerners hailing from Britain and Australia. It would seem obvious that these types of guys would stay as far away from someone like me as possible. Obviously not their type. Not the case. A few nights ago, a guy in a pair of suit pants, button up tucked in shirt, and an untied tie hanging loosely around his shoulders, waltzed up to me on the street and insisted that he take me out for a drink. When I turned him down he asked if he could take a photo with me. No, really.

A few nights before the "I'm a loose tie wearer" incident, I had an even more forward guy approach me. It got to the point where I said, listen, I'm not interested. He looked at me and replied, yeah, well you know, I work for J.P. Morgan. He then oh-so smoothly glided away. Seriously? How obvious is it that I am attracted to depressed, skinny, white guys with afros?

Firsts:

Yoga: Believe it or not, I joined a yoga studio. All I can say right now is that my body is in really, really bad shape.

Hot Pot: A few hairstylists introduced me to a traditional Chinese hot pot dinner. They were nice enough to buy a ton of fake meat (stuff like lobster and crab). It was quite interesting and surprisingly good. They also informed me that people in China not only eat dogs, but also kittens and rats. Sick.

Basically, I like it here. A lot.

By the way, another episode is finished.

while i am stuck in people traffic, check this.

2008-07-13T20:15:00.000-07:00

New episode is finished. Check it out.

New post soon. Hong Kong is still amazing.

here

2008-07-10T22:36:00.000-07:00

Here as in, I made it Hong Kong. Somehow made it out of Taiwan.

I didn't realize the extent of how bizarre I felt in Taipei until I walked into the overcrowded Hong
Kong subway. It feels really good being in an overpopulated, dense
city. Homeless people? I almost forgot that they exist. People who walk
places and walk fast? Super small apartment in some rundown building?
Perfect.

I think I am already in love with this city.

no sparklers on the streets.

2008-07-03T23:30:00.000-07:00

Today is a holiday in America. Fourth of July - fucking Independence Day. In America, I couldn't think any less of holidays (except for Christmas Eve, which in my family means playing with puppets and chimes, can't top that). In fact, since moving to New York, I have almost completely ignored every holiday that has come my way. I don't think I did much of anything on the fourth last year. I don't even know if I watched the fireworks. I remember fighting with my ex-boyfriend, going to a show with a friend from Pianos, eating pizza, and then sitting at Pianos with that same friend while she miserably made drinks to a crowd of zero. Sentimental memories, I'm all about them. But it's odd. I feel slightly off center today. As if I should be sprawled out on a rooftop in Bushwick, listening to rock music, making runs to the corner bodega for everything that everyone managed to forget, laughing at cynical jokes, making out with that boy I'm in love with - you know - having a good time, living a "normal" life.

A friend of mine from Hong Kong called me last night. He was on his way to London (where he is from) for the weekend. We talked a little bit about how I don't know any Americans here and I probably wouldn't do anything Western at all for the much celebrated American holiday. He told me he never cared about the Queen's birthday until he moved to Hong Kong. The comment made me laugh. Talking to him made me a bit more optimistic about getting the hell out of this place in a week (that's right, seven more days) and doing this whole cycle over again in Hong Kong (instead of fleeing back to New York and spending the rest of my summer on Coney Island eating cotton candy).

The past few days have been rough in the model world. This past Wednesday was maybe a top five in worst days of my entire life. I don't feel the need to dwell on it. Photographers can be assholes and the Chinese have a way of treating models just like little laptop accessories in boxes. I haven't figured out a way to deal with it. My dad told me to "compartmentalize." Not exactly the type of thing running through my head while thirty people are yelling at me in Mandarin. The closest open window, however, always looks appealing. Unfortunately, that chick from my agency already jumped. Taipei 101 might be the only way I can top that move.

Right. So. On Tuesday I will have been here for two months. One week from today I'll be on my way to Hong Kong. I don't have any jobs lined up before I leave and there is no point in going to castings for jobs scheduled after I leave (obviously). Meaning, I have a lot of free time. Absolutely nothing to do except chill out and relax in Taiwan for the next seven days.

Which brings me to...I'm alone in my apartment right now. I'm alone in my apartment on a day where I should be playing with things that make loud noises. I tried walking around this morning. Updating my critically acclaimed blog quickly won over feeling dizzy and nauseous in the the thick Taipei heat. I'm alone because my roommate left town with her new Chinese boyfriend. They are spending several days on the beach together. I was a little sad when she took off with him. Kind of weird being here alone. However, the second I realized I could plug speakers into my computer and turn the new Spiritualized record on however loud I wanted - the sadness wore off. I'm happy for her. I like seeing her laugh and smile. Although, the whole situation is almost unbearable. Shouldn't I already be on the beach with the cute skinny white boy?

My roommate's new boy was over a couple of nights ago. He brought her a book. A book of "common, casual, English phrases" that one could "use in everyday situations." The book has a better name than my description (that would probably make you laugh). But. I can't remember it and after searching the apartment it appears my roommate has taken the book with her as a juicy sunbathing read.

I have actually had experiences with the Taiwanese where their English isn't so great, but they spit out "common phrases" like machines. It's a little bit confusing.

For example:

Me: Medicine. For head. Headache. Anyone have?
Stylist: Oh, did you CATCH a cold?"

Me: Did that piercing hurt?
Stylist: Beyond my imagination!

I've always wondered how they pull it off . Now I know it's clearly the phrase bible. And no worries, I plan on stealing it for a night before I leave. I'll let you all know what phrases we are most likely missing out on in the next week or so.

Also. My friend and I started a new project. Check it out.

autobiographical poems - coming soon.

2008-06-30T08:35:00.000-07:00

Food is a daily issue for me (for those of you unaware, I'm vegetarian). Finding food I can eat always takes a few minutes. Actually being able to eat it without running into pork or beef is also a problem. Eating late at night is almost impossible. Not vomiting all over the sterile alleyways of Taipei is sometimes an issue as well. Tonight, I took a walk through the night market near my apartment. The food stands are always a bit sketchy. Animals and parts of animals hanging out in the open - waiting to be eaten. Sea creatures - dead or alive - hanging out as well. It's a tad bit unsettling. But tonight. Tonight, I got stuck behind a group of people ordering food. I was stuck directly next to an old lady selling reptile legs and feet. If I wasn't wearing a mala, I might have died on the spot. Turns out Buddhist apparel is worth something more than the fashion statement. Those prayer beads work!

I understand this isn't my culture. There are people on this planet who enjoy (and crave) the taste of a reptile toe. Got it. I'm not hating on anyone. However, I absolutely do not understand the fascination with something I am going to call "corn paste." Every single time I order something "vegetarian" it comes fully stocked with something that appears to be similar to egg salad. Surprisingly, it's just corn in some type of creamy paste. Is this maybe cream of corn? I'm not too sure. Anyway. It literally ruins every meal I eat. Vegetarian sandwich - with corn paste. Omelet - with corn paste. Bagel - with corn paste. Corn paste was thrown into the enchilada I ate at the one Mexican restaurant I was able to find in this city. The order of chips at the Mexican restaurant came with a side of corn.

I grew up in Iowa. I have nothing against corn. I am actually a huge fan. I'll even go so far to say I am a "corn super fan." There is a reason why I am consistently on the search for someone who is a pro at corn rowing "white people hair". There is a reason why yellow is my favorite color. And most importantly, a reason why I am compiling a book of autobiographical poems called "Finding My Way Out of the Corn Fields." But, in any situation, moderation is necessary. And honestly, I just don't understand what the deal is. Is there corn paste in everything meat related? Or is this Taiwan's way of sticking it to the people who don't eat green scaly toes?

I know. I know. Why don't I specify to these establishments that I am not in the mood for the sweet, crisp taste of corn? Easy. If I have learned one thing while living in Taipei it is this: When ordering food in a Mandarin speaking city, attempting to specialize a food order is the absolute worst thing to do. Guaranteeing yourself an order of octopus legs, a bowl of corn paste, or most likely - nothing at all.

clearly, it's time to buy a wet suit.

2008-06-29T05:34:00.000-07:00

In recent news:

*A makeup artist at a job this past week asked me, are you fourteen or fifteen? Seriously? I know I am not old. But fourteen and fifteen is really young (don't worry youngest sister, I actually think of you as much older).

*The Seattle chick received the privilege of going back to America. She only had a twelve hour notice (models get treated like sub-human beings - our thoughts and feelings don't ever come into play, ever). I'm totally sad that she took off. It was definitely a plus having someone western here that I could run around with.

*I mentioned that I quit drinking coffee. When I got here, I started drinking coffee several times a day. It might have been a comfort thing or who knows...maybe I'm just really tired (all the time). I'm doing quite well with the whole detox (although mornings have been nothing but rough). I did break down and buy coffee flavored ice cream. Does this mean I have a problem?

*I am venturing out of my realm a little bit more than the usual tonight. My Russian roommate asked me if I wanted to join her and some of our beloved (older) Chinese male "friends" in watching the football (soccer) game tonight at a "sports pub." We have a man with a van picking us up at two thirty AM. Apparently this is the "final" game. How could I refuse such an offer?

And a few more reasons why the MRT rocks:

*A sign by the escalators that reads: To save power, this escalator will operate in a reduced speed when not in use. The escalator will gradually resume normal speed when a passenger steps onto it. Please stand firmly and hold the handrail.

*The restrooms are cleaner than anything I have ever seen. They even have plants. Kind of mind blowing.

*Again with cell phones on the train. I was actually able to meet friends on a specific train carriage. No big deal. Hey we are on this train that is arriving now, first carriage.

*It's been raining all week. Usually, it rains a few times a day for a short period of time. But the past few days have only been typhoon style rain all day. Even with an umbrella I'm guaranteed to be drenched within seconds. So. At the entryway of every station (and most Taipei buildings) is a metal post containing plastic slip cases for umbrellas. Near the metal post is a recycling bin for the plastic cases. Everything train related stays dry and it's morally justified. Dealing with a wet umbrella is a super annoying situation. In fact, I've actually gone umbrella-less in the past to avoid the "crowded New York subway and here I am with my 'dripping water everywhere' umbrella, rad life idea" event.

Which brings me to my problem of the week:

*Is there typhoon attire I'm not aware of? How am I supposed to dress when a natural disaster is being thrown on top of me (and still look like I know what's up)? I've been doing the whole flip-flop thing....wearing shorts, whatever. Has Williamsburg designed a hip full length rain poncho yet? Or any type of hip rain gear?

typhoon soaked bagel slices

2008-06-24T06:35:00.000-07:00

A typhoon is hitting Taiwan tomorrow and the day after. Supposedly. Thought I would write a quick post in case something tragic happens. Unfortunately, the only thing I can even think about writing about is bagels. My family and friends will just have to assume I love them.

In New York, bagels are something I eat literally everyday. It's not really a big deal. Bagels can be found anywhere. They are super cheap and super delicious. A few days ago, I was on my way to a job and passed a place that had a display of bagels. I'll admit it, I got kind of excited. Jumped up in the air. Did a little twirl. The usual. Now the employee didn't speak one word of English. And the menus were in characters. I pointed to the bagel display. She nodded. I tried to imitate putting cream cheese on a bagel. She nodded.

I spaced out for a couple of minutes. The next thing I notice are two slices of bread being coated in something I am going to call "meat surprise." I get her attention and point to the bagel display. She seems to understand. She grabs a bagel and then picks up a water bottle. I watch her spray down the inside of the bagel and then watch her put it in the microwave. At this point, I don't care. Hungry, thirsty - can't be late for job. I didn't get cream cheese. I got a tablet of butter. I ate my "breakfast" in the cab on the way to my job. Needless to say, it wasn't exactly what I was hoping for.

Kind of feel like I'm always at least a little disappointed about something.

So. Today. My roommate and I decide to get lunch before joining the model slave trade schedule of the day. We go to this place near us, a place we both like. Sometimes their vegetarian items are vegetarian. Sometimes they will surprise me with chicken or pork. I play it safe and order the vegetarian bagel. Again. Craving that fucking bagel. I'm drinking my grapefruit green tea (in case you were wondering, totally rocks) at the bar and I see the lady reach for the huge water bottle. I'm sitting in my stool thinking, you've got to be kidding me, no way. Yes, way. She cuts open the bagel. Which, by the way, was some weird fruit filled thing. I mean, really. Was that your only option or are you just trying to mess with my head a little more? No plain bagels? Right. Anyway. Spray bottle in hand she soaks those two mother fucking bagel slices down. Typhoon style, I'm telling you. And then as delicate as one would make origami - places the two slices in the microwave.

The rest is a bore. I ate a warm water soaked bagel with some vegetables on it. The Taiwanese are obsessed with some type of sweet tasting something that they put on anything vegetarian. It was on the bagel and I ate it.

Anyway. Cultural differences. I stumble upon a lot of them. You know, everyday or so.

brains made out of rubber

2008-06-22T06:24:00.001-07:00

The past couple of weeks have been on the intense side. I have been working more and more. Long shoots, annoying clients, and learning how not to lose it have been a major theme in my daily life. I have become almost comfortable here in Taipei. You know, actually getting to know people - outside of the acquaintance world. My roommate left Taipei a few days ago, went back home to the Ukraine. There are only two of us in the apartment and it's surprisingly a little bit sad. I'll admit it, I miss her blaring nineties club hits (except for that Aerosmith Armageddon song). Last week, I had someone visit me from New York. Obviously a plus, but made me quite sad and a little bit lonely overall.

And what else...I started acupuncture. I've been spending time at the Buddhist temples multiple times a week. I can finally sleep (a little bit). I finally tried out a Taiwanese massage, quit drinking coffee (or, am trying to quit), worked my first Taiwanese fashion show (weird, weird, weird), ate my first Buddhist street food, and started using the MRT.

The MRT is a million times better than the NYC subway. It's clean, basically free, fast, and efficient. Food, gum, beverages, not to mention bin lang, are not allowed on the train. There are shops and even breast feeding rooms. The MRT uses recyclable cards and tokens - rather then wasting paper on train tickets. There is a system of getting on the train to assure that it doesn't get too crowded (and the people getting off, get off first). Escalators. And here, people on the right side of the escalator stand and people on the left walk. No confusion, no mass crowds...super orderly. Blows my mind away. No homeless people sleeping, peeing, or jacking off. Did I mention how clean it is? Not a rat or piece of trash in sight. If I understood Mandarin, I would know exactly how long I had to wait for a train to arrive. As of today, I haven't had to wait more than four minutes. Not to mention, not once has a train stopped in a tunnel due to another train in front of it or some other type of disaster. Oh, and cell phones work no matter where you are.

I'm enjoying being out of America. When I think about going back to New York - I almost cringe. Makes me feel a little bit lost. I don't want to stay in Taipei forever and I'm not, I'm headed to Hong Kong in a few weeks. However, if I'm not excited to go back to New York, where the hell do I go? I'm an official transient. I can't model forever so the whole situation kind of stresses me out. What am I going to do with the rest of my life? I need to get married to a rich guy - and fast. Anyone interested? I'm not that domestic (meaning not at all domestic) but I like board games (specifically ones that deal with words).

I guess what confuses me more than my daily existential crisis is why the hell kids don't wear helmets on scooters. Everyday I see scooters with families on them. The dad is driving, mom in the back, and the kid is standing in the front - holding onto the handlebars. The mom and dad ALWAYS have a helmet on. The kid NEVER does. What's up with that?

dragons and pancakes

2008-06-10T21:38:00.000-07:00

All right. I was dead wrong about the whole clean air issue. My dad educated me on rain scouring via the phone a few days ago. He is now forcing me to write a ten page report on the subject so that next time I think twice about embarrassing myself on the world wide web. My punishment for not writing the paper? Never being allowed to come home for Christmas, again. You've already disgraced the family enough, but this is just crossing the line. I'm serious, try having a scientist for a dad - it's intense (it's almost like being Chinese). I'm still going to say that the broken English made the idea seem quite ridiculous.

It was a three day holiday weekend in China this past weekend. Monday was "dragon boat racing" day. This resulted in a ton of people from Hong Kong taking off to Taipei for the three days - apparently Taipei is the place to go. I had no idea. Anyway. Dragon boat racing cracked me up a little bit. I was told by some Hong Kong guys that they have tons of fun holidays and because Hong Kong is such an international city they still celebrate all the Christian holidays, like Christmas.

Here are some holidays I was told about, I'm hoping they are all real:

*Buddha's Birthday
*Eating Chinese Pancakes Day
*Bathing and Basking Day
*Burn Paper Money Day
*Lantern Festival

I'm liking the whole vibe here. People are really friendly, it's quite beautiful and dragons seem to be a major theme in everyone's life.

I attended a huge Taiwanese wedding with a friend this weekend. We're talking thousands of people, dragons running around, tribal drums, and probably twelve courses of food that I experienced the whole "throw up in mouth" experience with. You know, whole sea creatures with eyes and legs, shark fins and whatnot. Besides the lazy susan full of my worst nightmares it was actually kind of fun and definitely entertaining.

I might not ever come back to the states. It seems like these people have something figured out that we don't.

air traffic

2008-06-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

I never did well in science class. In fact, my senior year, I bribed my chemistry teacher into giving me a passing grade so that I could graduate from high school. I am not even sure if my family knows about this. It's quite possible I just divulged devastating information on the internet. Sorry guys, at least your second kid hasn't dropped out of college (yet).

Anyway. It's possible I missed out on some important basic science lessons. Please, correct me if I am wrong. But this is a real conversation that happened today between me and my manager. There is a food cart right by my agency. The lady sells three things. Two of them are definitely vegetarian. The goal of the conversation was to find out if the third item was also vegetarian. But it turned into this:

Manager: Yes. You can try one. But when sun out, I don't try cart food. Only when rain.
Me: Wait, you only eat food from a cart when it is raining?
Manager: Yes. Because air is cleaner when it rains. Not when sunshine.
Me: Wait a second, are you telling me you think that the air in Taiwan is clean when it rains? But not when it is sunny? And it makes an impact on the food from a cart?
Manager: No, it is clean when it rains. Dirty when it suns.
Me: You know there is no way this is true, right?
Manager: No. True! The rain drops collect and trap the bad stuff and throw it away when it falls from sky. So when it rains, I try food from carts.
Me: I need to see where you found this information.
Manager: Okay maybe you try with the sun. I don't. Dirty.

I'm honestly curious if it is possible that the language barrier made whatever he was trying to say sound completely ridiculous. Or, do I actually have no clue what I am talking about? My dad is a micro-meteorologist (whatever that really means), the title implies that maybe he would have a good answer to anything science related. I'll have to post an air quality report later on.

I ate a vegetarian dinner with that chick from Seattle. We hung out for awhile with a couple of friends that I have here. I usually arrive home with my roommates, but today showed up about five hours later. When I got home I walked into a major problem. My roommate started screaming my name from the bathroom. The door is wide open. The light off. She was taking a shower and needed help with something. You can take that however you want to take it. Confessions of a model dorm.

So. Apparently our light bulb went out while I was at dinner. No one could fix it. In defense of myself (although I don't know that I have actually changed a light bulb before), I've never seen a light that looks like this. Anyway. She's done taking a shower and I am trying to figure out what the hell kind of light fixture we have rigged up and she says to me: How are we are going to shower when the new guy comes next week? We have a guy moving in with us next week, right? Oh, and Hermes is his name, for all of you that were wondering. I'm serious. But back to the point, this statement fully implied that the light bulb situation is a problem that no one is intending on fixing.

But. Besides the light bulb situation there is one thing I am way more worried about. I'm surrounded by people who speak English as a second language all day, or no English at all. I'm starting to learn that the only way I don't have to repeat myself or clarify everything is to speak like them. In broken English. Just take a few words out here and there, speak slowly. I'm worried that this is going to become my new style of speech. Modeling might actually be dumbing me down. You all should probably Skype me up as much as possible so I can retain my incredibly innovative speech pattern. My friend said this to me, which hopefully is true, but doesn't mean I can't lose it all with another few months of Russian girls. No you are becoming more efficient. Plus the way you speak really only works with people with a full grip of English + thousands of cultural references + personal anecdotes. We'll see what happens. I'm not counting on anything at this point.

Thank god for my blog.

headphones and popsicle sticks

2008-06-02T05:37:00.000-07:00

For those of you who doubted my mountaineering skills, let me tell you, I booked that commercial. Tomorrow at five AM I'll be changing into some sporty gear and getting ready to make a laptop look mighty fine. Not exactly sure what happened to my life, exploitation.

I found out that I booked the job on Friday. I spent Sunday trying to prepare for the role by being as rugged as possible. I went on an excursion that involved getting lost in the mountains, stumbling upon some Taiwanese burial grounds (people get buried in the mountains here, no graveyards), walking through a huge funeral site, only to lead to a Buddhist temple and was then offered to worship with some ancient style Chinese men. Spiritual stuff, folks. My trek back to civilization was a little bit of a hike (in definitely the wrong attire, dresses are not for Taipei adventures). There were a few minutes of a downpour with thunder which deterred my stamina a little bit. However, I'm alive and well and ready to mountain bike just about anything. You can see documentation of my nature self here.

We have three new models at my agency. None of them live in my apartment. And two of them are totally fine. We've got a guy from South Africa and a cute girl from Seattle (vegetarian, ten points there). And then there is this young Ukrainian girl that almost made me jump out of the car window today. We're talking as pointless and ridiculous as a dropped popsicle cooking in the sun on a supermarket asphalt parking lot. No words to describe what my days are like with this chick. I can guarantee you there is A LOT of over the top singing to the radio (always one verse early, can't figure that one out), even louder phone conversations and more screaming about who knows what then I've heard in my entire life. Her intonation is out of control. Definitely beats the rainforest section of any zoo and most likely the infant viewing room in every hospital on the planet.

My roommates made a good point though, at least I don't understand two thirds of what she is saying. My roommates have to listen to everything - Russian, Ukrainian, and English. I've put up with her for about a week now, keeping my mouth shut, reading my book...keep telling myself ignore, ignore, ignore. And then today when the stupidity was shooting out of her lips as if we were playing laser tag, I looked at her and said, Listen, I really can't talk to you anymore, especially about this. The other two girls in the car immediately pulled out their audio devices, stuck their headphones in, and my manager rather quickly turned up the stereo volume. And. That was it. We didn't talk the rest of the day.

I'm seriously considering bringing along my headphones in the car from now on, even though I don't own an Ipod.

*By the way, a good friend gave me his new record awhile back. A couple of weeks later he confronted me and said, You haven't even listened to my record yet, I know it. I apologized and he gave me another copy and asked me to listen to it. It took me a bit, but I put it on in the car today and surprisingly repeated it several times. Made for perfect "driving in the rain through Taipei" listening. My manager loved it and borrowed the CD and I think maybe you all should give it a listen, it's "pretty more than decent stuff."

considering the bin lang...

2008-05-28T19:43:00.000-07:00

At a casting a couple of days ago the designer kept touching me and repeating something that I didn't really understand. She left the room and my manager told me she thought I was "very cute" and was grabbing me "cookies." The cookies were in a Hello Kitty package (obviously) and yes, delicious. I wish this happened every time someone thought I was cute. Would save me from a lot of unwanted advances and comments from douche bag guys.

Everyday I am here, I am a little more ashamed that I am from America.

*I don't speak any other languages. Why is it that every model I meet speaks three?
*I have to give my weight, height, and other various measurements out frequently - when I first got here I was behind on the times enough to answer in pounds and inches.
*Does anyone else use Fahrenheit?
*Same goes for time, we actually use the twelve hour clock while the rest of the world has the twenty four hour clock figured out.
*America's influence on Taiwan goes a little something like this: Burger King, McDonalds, Subway, Starbucks, and 7-Eleven.

As far as my week goes, yesterday I changed my clothes just about three hundred times for some catalog job over a period of fifteen hours. Immediately after the job I had to meet my driver for some "castings." After keeping it together all day I lost it when I got to a casting for a "celebrity jewelry show" (whatever that means). I was asked to walk around a room full of people while pretending I was wearing a huge diamond ring. This is when I flat out said, no, no, no, you can't even pay me to do this right now. I found out later that my agent is worried about my "stamina issues." What about, I just didn't want to do it.

By the way, I just wrote an article on my favorite boys for an ongoing project I've been working on. You can check it out here.

My night as a club-goer.

2008-05-24T06:33:00.000-07:00

It's safe to say, I don't get out to the clubs very often. However, two nights ago my roommate convinced me to come out with her (just for an hour or two she tells me). I like my roommate. I felt more comfortable with her not going alone anyway.

There is a club at the bottom of Tower 101. Tower 101 is maybe the most unattractive building in the world - like my friend said, it looks like a bunch of take out boxes stacked on top of each other. It's also the tallest building in the world (until that Dubai building is officially done). I was dreading everything about the evening.

Mint is a small club filled to the brim with plush couches, booths and tables for the oh-so-elite bottle service goers. The place is filled with Eastern European girls dancing and Taipei's socialite crowd, something I haven't fully figured out yet. As far as I can tell the elite scene in Taipei consists of a lot of rich people who are probably bankers. And of course, the Taiwan pop stars. Sometimes, someone will say to me, Oh that's so and so, he is one of Taiwan's most famous pop singers. So talented. I can't help but picture American Idol performances when I hear this. And not because I have no faith in the Taiwanese pop scene. There is a popular venue a block from my apartment. Every time I walk by it I pop my head in the door and pretend I'm flipping through my TV channels, stopping on American Idol. It's that similar, really.

Upon arriving to my table filled with tall, thin girls in short dresses and heels - most of them younger than both of my sisters (probably), I was already cringing. When a Guns and Roses song came on the speakers and my roommate looked at me and said, see this isn't so bad, they even play rock like you like, I really didn't know if I was going to last ten minutes. And then immediately some guy walks up to me, some guy that all of the models seem to know, and offers me a line of blow. I declined nicely, no thanks. And he persisted:

I heard you are from NY. Everyone in NY does blow. Come on.

No, really. I don't touch that shit. Thanks anyway.

All right. So what about some K?

Are you kidding me? K is the LAST thing I want right now. I'm fine.

Champagne?

No. I'm fine.

What can I get you then? One line won't hurt you, I promise.

I mean this dialogue was absolutely ridiculous. This is what you hear on TV talk shows when those tragic cases of supermodels turned drug addicts with eating disorders finally come forward to "tell their story." It's something I've never experienced in the industry. And now I know why. I don't hang out at clubs with weird, old, strange men.

Here is the thing I have learned from my few years of working in a bar. People who always "have" drugs, are always "on" drugs, are not the biggest drug addicts on the planet. When you are doing something wrong, you don't tell anyone about it - definitely not offering it to friends and people you don't know. In the bar world, we call these guys, "fashion druggies."

There is no point in being rude to people like this guy. People like him are already fucked up and either get turned on by aggression or it will go completely over their head. There are only a couple ways of getting these people off your back. You can ask for a drug they for sure won't have (like, heroin). It'll freak them out and they'll probably leave you alone forever. Or, you can find a way cuter boy (which is hard to come by in Taipei, language barrier and all) to latch onto. From there, avoid eye contact at all costs. And then of course, there is convincing your roommate that it's absolutely necessary to leave.

I'll let you decide which of the three I tried out. Choose your own adventure style.

five minutes, it's "near."

2008-05-22T03:42:00.000-07:00

When your agency barely speaks English - confusion is something to brace yourself for. For example, this morning I got up at 7:30 AM thinking I had to be at my agency at 10 AM. I wanted to take a walk and eat breakfast (I'm totally lame now that I am not in NY). I get there at ten only to be greeted with, why are you here? Turns out they told me last night that I had the entire morning off. Sorry guys, when you speak to me in Mandarin, sometimes I get the numbers confused. I was left with five hours to kill. So. I found maybe the only English bookstore in Taipei, picked up a couple of books and then found a tea house.

Between the server's broken English and my completely destroyed Mandarin it only took about fifteen minutes for me to order an oolong tea. This is a step up from last week. Last week, nothing would get ordered and I would end up leaving whatever establishment I was at - still hungry and thirsty. Flash cards work kids, practice those times tables! I should have adopted this study method a decade ago. It at least would have made for a better situation with the parents and my at home life. You know, with all the punishing I got for my bad math grades and all (kidding, I know you both read this). Anyway. I spent the afternoon studying Taoism. I mean, why not? There has got to be a reason why these people outlive us by like, fifteen years. Plus, if I am going to learn about it - might as well do it while I can take field trips to temples and whatnot.

Throughout the afternoon I realized a couple of things:

1) The amount of underwear castings I go on is completely absurd. The castings literally consist of about nine Asian ladies crowded around me while I strip down to my underwear and then let them take digital photos of me and talk about me in Mandarin. I might as well be making McDonald's toys in a sweatshop with a bunch of over worked minors. It is about as degrading (except that I get paid way more). Oddly enough, even with my rocking body, I can't seem to book an underwear job. It's weird. I don't know about all of you, but I know when I look at underwear catalogs, I am surprised at the resemblance between me and the girls who actually book these jobs.

2) The Chinese time language cannot be trusted. Five minutes is at least twenty minutes, always. One more casting is more like six more castings. "Far away" is usually within walking distance. "Later on" means next, right away. And today while I waited forty five minutes to meet some lady who said I looked "too old" and turned me away immediately (don't worry I already picked up the anti-aging cream), I was told ten minutes into the wait that the client was around the corner and wouldn't be more than ten minutes.

3) I find it quite odd that these people can chain smoke at their computers in their offices all day long, but I can't walk into an office with shoes on.

It's still raining. It rains everyday here. Multiple times a day. Only for twenty minutes or so at a time. But when it does rain, it rains really, really hard. What I can't figure out is what came first, Chinese people using umbrellas as shade from the sun and then figuring out that when it rains they come in handy as well? Or the other way around?

backpacking through taipei

2008-05-21T07:09:00.000-07:00

I literally spent the last three hours sitting on the floor of some office style casting agency. I was one of the first to audition for this bizarre Taiwan laptop commercial. However, in Taiwan, callbacks don't exist. If the client likes you, you wait for everyone to audition and then you'll audition again. I felt a little bit out of place at this audition because I was asked to play a "backpacker, someone who loves to mountain bike."

Casting director's translator:You jump off your bike and walk it to a bike rack. You walk into a hip cafe and take off your backpack, super excited about the amazing laptop you are going to pull out. You pretend to check your email and chat with your friends. Look like you are having fun. Finally, pull out your camera, take out the memory card, upload your photos. Turn the laptop towards us and show us your amazing adventure in the mountains of Taipei.

Keep in mind that none of these props exist. Keep in mind that I haven't been on a bike since probably the age of ten. Oddly enough, they loved me. And I guess when I think about it, I probably fit "mountaineer" better than all of the Eastern European girls with their pointy stilettos, long blonde hair, silver eye shadow, and short fitted dresses. I do, after all, clip my keys to the belt loops on my jeans. You can't get more rugged than that in the modeling world. Which, by the way, people in Taipei are totally confused about. I get asked, what is wrong with your keys, about three times a day.

So, right. They liked me. I waited for every model that exists in Taipei to try out. I read a million issues of "Frame" and then paced outside on the porch for about thirty minutes. And then the five of us that they liked went back into the conference room, stood in a row, and they told us "thank you" and said we could leave. That was it. For real.

Earlier in the day I had an audition for a Coke Zero commercial. There was no translator, just a lady with a camera yelling directions out to me in Mandarin. Quite helpful. I tried to decipher what she wanted by her body language. I probably looked like an idiot.

Honestly, I think at this point in my life I would rather look like an idiot for a few minutes than waste hours of my precious life span sitting on a tile floor in Taiwan surrounded by models talking about the club scene in Taipei.

As a sidenote: My good friend Kevin has been working on this web TV project for a little bit now...the trailer is finally up and definitely worth checking out.

terms of agreement, model style.

2008-05-19T17:45:00.000-07:00

Taipei is nice. And weird. A friend of mine in New York once said, Every time someone leaves this city for an extended period of time, you might as well consider it rehab. I have to agree with the statement. I feel like I am detoxing from New York. I feel a little bit mental, to be honest.

The fashion market in Taiwan is bizarre. I am required to wear makeup everyday. It's a little bit backwards. You moved me out here because you liked the way I looked - right? I try to get around it by throwing on some mascara and telling my manager I have lipstick in my bag. It's worked out so far. Yesterday morning, my roommate decided she was NOT going to wear makeup. She told our manager: No, not today. Besides, I look younger without it. To which my manager replied: But your face looks bad. Younger makes your face no good.

And then earlier today after I had finished my strikingly stunning poses for a client (in a quite ridiculous street market, business casual outfit) the client just went off (in Mandarin) to my manager. She was pointing at me, touching me, and looking at me as if I was absolutely disgusting. You know, I'm not college educated or anything like that. But. I have some basic intelligence. It's like - you think because I'm white and don't speak Mandarin that I can't figure out that you are talking about me? I knew she was saying I was too skinny. And of course, her clothes were huge and gross. Why I even tried them on in the first place will probably keep me up at night for the next week. But get this, she then turns to one of my roommates and does the same thing to her - except she made it clear that she was too big.

That is kind of when I lost it. That is when something came out of my mouth that probably shouldn't have. Because honestly, it was fucking unbelievable. Luckily, she was running her mouth so much and didn't speak a word of English, so it went completely over her head. My manager, however, heard and burst out laughing. And then my roommate looked at me and said, you at least have to smile while you say things like that. Lets be honest. I get that I am in this industry. That this is "what I do." But there have to be ground rules. I'll put up with just about everything as long as I feel some sort of respect. The second that line is crossed - my mouth is allowed to run as well. I had no idea that once the language barrier is involved -moral decency and manners are allowed to vanish.

But outside of the fashion world.

*I was in a cab yesterday and we passed the "Taipei Experimental Elementary School." I'm still trying to figure out exactly what that means. But it was comforting to finally see something in English.

*I see the most hilarious t-shirts with English phrases and sentences printed all over them here. It is the same as it is in the US. There are people who love things printed with Asian symbols. Even though it is quite possible they have no idea what it means. I've seen some funny shirts (Abraham Lincoln quote shirts, kids wearing shirts with swear words). But today topped it off. Today I saw an older lady wearing a blue sweatshirt. And on the back of the sweatshirt read: WANTED: A boyfriend as a sex slave. Will take all applications. I'm NOT kidding. I wish I had a photo.

*One of my managers asked me if I carried a gun in America. I laughed and said, Right. Everyday. And I wear cowboy hats, too. But here is the thing, he was dead serious. In fact, he then said, You all DO wear cowboy hats, right?

I am very intrigued by the Chinese way of life. It is quite serene and pure. Taipei is so safe, it's unreal. Everyone I meet seems incredibly at peace with themselves. Things aren't that bad here. I am officially considering myself as a part of some shock therapy treatment and as soon as the initial fever is broken, I think I am going to like it here quite a lot.

By the way: my friend who is an excellent writer and takes some rad photos has started a great blog, http://www.thehistoryofmyfuture.blogspot.com, check it out.

Getting into the Slurpees.

2008-05-17T04:11:00.000-07:00

I made it to Taipei. For those of you who haven't taken the time to skype me or email me. Kidding. But for real - who has skype? Add me!

So far no natural disasters. No creepy guys luring me in for some slave trade. And I've been good - no reason to go to jail (yet).

As far as my roommates go - super nice. Two Russian girls. I heard a guy is moving in with us in a couple of weeks. As you all know, I love eighteen year old boys who "go the gym."

But Taipei is....weird. The fashion market here is so so so weird. I have a driver who speaks NO English. He drives me from casting to casting. When I get to a casting I have to try on clothes and then give these people a series of "poses." I have always believed modeling is ridiculous - but this is the first time I've actually felt a moral disagreement with it. The positive side is that the market is lucrative. The most famous magazines on the planet don't pay a thing, but putting on outfit after outfit in Taipei is worth a ton of money.

I don't really have much to say about Taiwan yet. I can't talk to anyone. I stare at characters all day and try to guess what they mean. I have a really hard time finding food I can eat. I've been almost hit by probably twenty scooters. And there are more 7-Elevens then Starbucks in New York. There are cameras all over the streets, police everywhere. My roommates both made fun of me for carrying a knife on me. One of them said, "This is not New York."

I listen to a lot of bad pop and dance remixes all day while I'm being driven around. I'm a little bit lonely and I genuinely miss New York.

Anime in a day.

2008-05-13T08:42:00.000-07:00

Yo.

I'm back.

New York got crazy and busy for a few months. More crazy and busy than usual. And then two weeks ago I found out that my agency wanted me to get out of here and go use my enamoring manga looks in Asia.

I need to leave for the airport in fifteen minutes. I'm "almost" done packing. Have not showered. And I need to get dressed. I should be fine.

For the next fifty seven days I'll be in Taipei. From Taipei I go to Hong Kong for another fifty seven days. After Hong Kong, I will be on my way to London. I think it's about time I start recording what I see again. Not to mention, if I don't post once a week - you can all assume I have been arrested or sold, white slavery trade style. Or even worse, crushed by some natural disaster that I couldn't avoid.

I do want to make my flight. Check back in a few days, hopefully I'll have a post confirming that I made it and my sixteen year old model roommates aren't all that bad - in fact, intelligent and mature.

xx

I work for Myspace.

2008-02-11T20:05:00.001-08:00

I worked a job for American Eagle a couple of weeks ago. At one point I found myself standing next to a pre-pubescent, white, groomed male model. In an attempt to get to know me he started off our conversation like this:

Him: What's yo name? He said this in a tone as if he grew up across the street from my apartment - Marcy Projects style. I mean really, he probably comes from a wealthy suburban home in Connecticut.

Me: Um... (clearly unimpressed).

The conversation only had one more interaction. It went something like this:

Him: Yeah, you know, I need to find a veterinarian. My pythons are looking really sick.

He then lifted his arm and while pointing to his "bicep", flexed. I blankly stared at him and then looked around to see if maybe he was making a joke to someone else. Realizing that he was in fact hitting on me - I turned away.

That was the beginning of my New York fashion week. The rest of the week was filled with endless castings. Running from place to place all day. Literally, jumping on the train and almost running to each casting. Only to arrive upon endless amounts of skinny girls waiting to meet "whoever" for maybe fifteen seconds. Waiting and waiting. Rushing and rushing. Hurry up and wait. Arriving to castings dying to sit down during the wait - but finding that all of the chairs are usually taken up by fifteen year old models and their mothers.

I arrived at my agency during this whole process fairly early in the morning on a daily basis. I would arrive and my booker would print out my schedule. The schedule consists of anywhere from ten to twenty castings. Most castings run for about two to three hours. They are scattered all over the city. About half the time there is no crossroad given with the address. I can honestly say it is incredibly stressful to figure out how to make it to all of them. After getting my schedule, I would sit down and decide on an order based on train locations, priority castings, the castings I could walk to without getting on the train, etc. etc. It helps that I know the city well. It helps that I have a friend who works in an office that I could text all the addresses I needed crossroads for.

One morning, I was sitting down at my agency waiting for my schedule. The girl sitting across from me received her schedule as well. Her booker asked her, do you feel like you know the city yet? She shook her head no. Do you have a map? She shook her head no. Do you have a subway card? She replied with, I think so. The agent printed out a black and white map on an 8.5x11 sheet of paper. She then tried to explain how to get to the first few castings while making a few markings on the map. I gathered from the conversation that the girl was about sixteen. The conversation ended with the booker telling her to, just call me if you get lost or confused. The girl then explains that she had lost her phone charger the night before and her phone was dead. So, how are we supposed to get a hold of you? The girl offers an idea that she has her Romanian phone but can only text on it, maybe I could text you?

Like my friend said: Models need Blackberrys and assistants.

The Calvin Klein wait was over two hours. After an hour and a half of sitting in a narrow hallway on a dirty, cold, tiled floor a chair opened up. I found myself sitting across from an extremely beautiful Russian with long red hair. She introduced herself immediately to me and then said,do you have any drugs?. After laughing and telling her "no", her phone rang. It was her agent who told her that after the Calvin Klein casting she needed to go to the Bronx for a job. She hung up the phone exasperated. Is it true that if I go the Bronx I will get KILLED the second I come up from underground? She asks me this while wildly making quick stabbing motions with her hand above her head. I choked back laughter and a series of sarcastic comments. And then after a second thought, replied, maybe not the second you reach sunlight, but yeah it happens. You should be really careful. Wide-eyed, she stared at me for a second and said, this is no good.

The only other observation I am going to bring up is the interactions I observed at fashion parties. A lot of people at the fashion parties I attended are incredibly successful. However, sometimes I ran into people who felt the need to rattle off their resume and impress me. I was talking to two friends at the Prada party. Some random guy came up and asked if he could "join the conversation." My friend and I immediately took a step away leaving our friend to fend for himself. For whatever reason, we got into a relatively intense, serious conversation (yes, I do have those, sometimes). The kind where you are standing fairly close to the person, lots of eye contact, that style. Out of the blue, in the background, I hear the random telling my friend in an oh-so proud voice, yeah, I mean, I work for Myspace. Looking at my friend I said, I'm so sorry but did you... My friend cut in and exlaimed loudly, I work for Myspace! We were literally bent over laughing and left the scene immediately. It really is just so funny to hear what people have to say about themselves within the first minutes of meeting them. We met up with our friend a few minutes later and he informed us that the guy also works for Facebook, records music, and owns an art gallery. Talk about success - what a catch.

My top twenty albums of 2007.

2007-12-16T22:43:00.000-08:00

Two posts in a day. I'm on an offical "roll."

My Top Twenty Favorite Albums of the Year 2007:

Ready? Here you go!

***
Honorable Mentions: A Place to Bury Strangers, Ghostland Observatory, Crystal Castles, Coco Rosie, Chase Pagan, The Shins, Black Lips, Pete Bjorn and John

Biggest letdown: Interpol

Album I got into a year late: Datarock
***

20. Foreign Born, On the Wing Now: I randomly saw this band play during CMJ and couldn't pull myself away from it. My friend called them "epic." I have been obsessed since. "Union Hall" is a must have.

19. Blonde Redhead, 23: Not every song is great - but the good songs definitely resemble good Blonde Redhead. Enchanting.

18. Panda Bear, Person Pitch: Basically perfect. And simple.

17. Rosewood Thieves, Lonesome EP: This band is creative and into doing everything themselves. Besides reminding me of Dylan - they release EPs, not full records and I am never dissapointed.

16. Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend tied with White Rabbits, Fort Nightly: Both of these bands kind of blew up this year. I've seen both play a few times and loved each performance. It's good rock.

15. Dan Deacon, Spiderman of the Rings: The first time I heard Dan Deacon I was completely turned off. My friend had it playing and I said, "THIS is the guy everyone is talking about?" He kept it playing and it started to grow on me.

14. Spoon, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga: Spoon never really changes. I'm totally fine with it - I like what they have going on.

13. Menomena, Friend and Foe: When I worked in an office I listened to this album everyday. Everything about this band is cool.

12. Animal Collective, Strawberry Jam: My friends are HUGE Animal Collective fans. I really don't like their band name and for some reason I've never got into them as much as everyone else. But I can't deny that this is a classic.

11. Against Me!, New Wave: This was my favorite record for awhile this summer. I still want to put it higher on the list, but I feel like I favor the other albums a little bit more. Still, I avoided this band because I thought they were a lame punk band. This album proves that opinion wrong.

10. Dirty Projectors, Rise Above: I got into this band a little later in the year when I started seeing posters around the city and Brooklyn EVERYWHERE for them. The next thing I noticed is that everyone started talking about them - all the time. They were the band to see. Turns out, they are totally worth the hype - and completely unique, too.

9. Deerhunter, Cryptograms: I actually saw this band play with Battles this summer. I feel like people are always disregarding Deerhunter. People always say it's hard to get into, too instrumental, boring. I disagree. If you like that Factory Records sound I don't see why you wouldn't like this band.

8. Battles, Mirrored: People try to knock them down by calling them "math rock." I call it "really good math rock."

7. Studio, West Coast tied with Burial, Untrue: Both these records totally rock my world. They are my winter albums, for sure. "Origins" by Studio is another must have.

6. Liars, Liars: I am also a huge Liars fan. This album is more "rock" than their last album. "Pure Unevil" is a must have.

5. The National, Boxer: I was totally hesistant to jump on the train of people who raved about The National. My first response was "lame." But I can't stop listening to it.

4. Bear Hands, Golden EP: I can't enough of these guys. And I don't know why the rest of the world doesn't agree with me.

3. Arcade Fire, Neon Bible: They are classic. End of story.

2. MGMT, Oracular Spectacular: Hands down this was my summer record. This was the music that was in the car stereo that I listened to with the windows down.

1. Radiohead, In Rainbows: No surprise, I'm a huge Radiohead fan. It's like Thom Yorke meets Ok Computer. I love it.

Last resort only, please.

2007-12-13T10:17:00.000-08:00

This post is overdue - but as usual I have been incredibly busy during the past month. Things are going very well, but I won't bore you with the details. Good things are happening and I couldn't be more excited about it.

My family is the type of family that is "into" holidays. And I mean it when I say it - they go all out. They like chaotic (or maybe not like - but opt for) big dinners and gatherings. They like puppets and blowing things up. I'm not exaggerating. They LOVE traditions. Every holiday is basically the exact repeat of every year prior to it.

So. When I am not around my family during a holiday I feel a little bit alienated. It's like - so now what do I do? This year I decided to visit my all time favorite friend from Iowa and his boyfriend in Philadelphia. I made the plan a couple of weeks in advance. I arranged to have a vehicle I could drive to Philadelphia. I find out at nine PM the night before that I don't have anything to drive. I get online after work and look at train tickets. They turn out to be incredibly inconvenient. You know, asking me to leave at something as early as 9 AM. Not happening.

I somehow get talked into taking a bus. Not any bus - the Chinatown bus. The selling point of the Chinatown bus is that it is basically free. But from getting to the bus, getting on the bus, riding it, getting off the bus, and after getting off it....all a nightmare.

My friend and I get up and take the subway to Chinatown. After about twenty seconds I realize I might have taken the subway to hell, really. I don't go to Chinatown often. When I do - it's usually at night for some birthday dinner, so it's a little more tame. There are people everywhere. It's like I didn't even need to move my legs, the masses of Chinese people just kind of carried me down the street. There are tons and tons of stores with gross dead, raw food in the storefronts. There are piles of dead fish in the street everywhere. It doesn't smell very good. No one speaks English. And it's so fucking loud. We somehow make it on the bus. Everyone is yelling across seats to people they recognize - but not in English. The bus starts up and all of these kids open up their backpacks and bring out gross/weird food that they all start to eat. It took over an hour to get out of the city. I was horrified.

Anyway. We make it Philadelphia. My friend made us food that we ate. All in all, I had a great time.

Getting back to New York was a different story. There is a line to get on the bus. We get on and realize we can't sit next to each other. We both have to sit next to strangers. I get stuck next to the super black gay guy. He has the huge black Prada shoulder bag on his lap. He is wearing a bright pink and maroon zig-zag sweater under a fitted zip up hoodie. He is decked out in tan ankle boots with jeans that are perfectly cuffed at the ankle. He is listening to his iPod SO LOUD that I can almost clearly hear every word of "Its My Life" by Gwen Stefani. Turns out he has the song on REPEAT. So I listen to it over and over and over again. He is reading one of those black literature books with the large typeface and the hilarious title. Not to mention the slutty girl on the cover. I looked over his shoulder once and saw the sentence, And then I shot him. BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.I start to wonder just how many times he would keep Gwen on repeat. Which made me think of a great blog discussion: What song would YOU listen to for two and a half hours on a crowded loud bus? I'm not too sure, it's a tough-ie. Maybe something in the Dan Deacon world - kind of zone out and forget it is there.

While this is going on the person I am with is stuck in the seats across the aisle. He is smashed against a very old and large Asian man who is rocking out spiked gray hair, gel and all. I really thought it was over - you know, my sanity. Gwen never failed to start after it had finished and I of course, had nothing to keep my mind off of It's my life, and it's now or never!.

Luckily, by the grace of God, the old man wakes up about forty five minutes into the trip and sees the two of us talking. He offers to trade us seats. We were saved and totally at peace for a second until we realized that super gay guy has fallen asleep with his iPod on! Surprisingly, the worst part of the trip was not the Talk Talk cover on repeat, but the parents a few seats behind us. The type of parents that talk to their kid in third person. The type of parents that have to completely engage their child every second of the trip. They were singing songs, quizzing the kid on trivia, pointing out every vehicle and every piece of nature out the window....and contradicting each other at the same time.

Mommy thought that was a firetruck but Mommy was wrong. Daddy was right.

No exaggeration. The whole ride. I just wish I could be there in fifteen years when they ask: Where did we go wrong?

Although I did make it to both destinations safely, I can't say I would recommend the Chinatown bus as a means of transportation. Last resort only, for real.

By the way - way to go senator of Idaho. AND I'm working on my best albums of 2007 list. Watch out for it.

Travel size life savers.

2007-11-20T11:04:00.000-08:00

Since working at a bowling alley - my life has entered this world of new people, the sport of bowling, and of course new patterns and things that I have to "deal" with.

At my other job, if someone harasses me in the smallest form - I have a huge black security guard on him within thirty seconds. The guy is then thrown out within the next fifteen seconds. This is not really the case at the bowling alley. Of course you wouldn't think a sexual predator would decide to harass me at one in the afternoon between games of bowling. You also wouldn't think that he would know who I was and that he was from my hometown. Creepy. Anyway. After minutes of arguing with the guy and my manager dragging him out the door, he left. I just hope I don't run into him again. I have a hunting knife and I am not afraid to use it (thanks, Dad).

I've noticed this pattern with guys in New York who are overly aggressive and almost turned on by the idea that the person they are harassing is not into it. It's like - they know they don't have to see you ever again, they know they could possibly get away with being a douche bag, they definitely cannot get a date if their life depended on it...and they go for it. At the bowling alley we have this shoe disinfectant spray. I read the label on the back and it reads that it kills HIV, herpes, polio, TB, common flu...among many other diseases that I cannot recall right now, plus it also disinfects shoes. So this label sparked an idea. What about travel size shoe disinfectant bottles that girls can carry in their purses? It's like you meet some guy for coffee who SEEMED okay - but before you sit down you just spray him down with the disinfectant to make sure he doesn't have an STD or some weird disease. I mean honestly, if the guy turns out to be a total whack job - the last thing you want is polio and herpes to come with it. You might as well get it out of the way.

What I really need is a "sexual predator creep" disinfectant that comes in the form of mace. I spray it the eyes of every guy that tries to talk to me and if they are not going to harass me - well, then their eyes will be fine. But if they scream in pain....then I just saved myself a lot of personal trauma.

By the way, Chase Pagan's new record is out today and I highly recommend checking it out.

It all boils down to - I just can't win.

2007-10-15T16:02:00.000-07:00

I have had some problems ordering food lately.

* I had the day off last week. I slept in and woke up hungry. It was my day off and I decided to order Mexican. My favorite Mexican place was closed for renovations (it's called Zocalo, if you have not been there, check it out). I call the not-so-great but okay place called San Loco. I order a cheese quesadilla. I ask if I can get pico de gallo in my quesadilla. They do this for me every time I order from them.

Girl: Unfortunately this is not Burger King. Your way is not the right way.
Me: You know, you don't have to be a bitch about it.

Click. Luckily, I was with a friend who called back and got her name. He then got her on the phone and asked her a couple questions about Burger King. Flustered, she stammered some reply that she was "only joking."

* A few days later I am headed to the new Wes Anderson movie. With only twenty minutes before it started, I realized I was hungry. The movie theater is located right by Union Square. There are not too many quick options. However, there is a Quiznos located across the street. I order my sandwich and the overly large black woman behind the counter is giving me crazy bulging eyes with an attitude. I am waiting to pay and jokingly tell the person I am with that she needed an attitude adjustment. He agreed. He pays with no problem. I ask for a glass of water.

Lady: We don't have glasses.
Me: Okay, so a cup of water?
Lady: I don't have any cups either.

So I point to the huge stack of small, medium, and large cups.

Lady: You can buy one of those.
Me: Really? This is getting ridiculous. But, okay.

I get charged whatever a soda costs. I start to laugh while paying. Wouldn't you? I get my water. I sit down and tell the person I am with how ridiculous the lady was. I then hear an Excuse me! from behind the counter. Her eyes are bulging more than ever now. She leaves her workspace and walks over to me. She starts bitching a crazy rant. She walks back to the register and nods at me, You hear me?

Me: I can't understand a word you are saying.

(I left Ebonics was not offered at my high school out of the reply).

I quickly eat my sandwich and contemplate what I should say to her before I leave. My friend tells me not to say anything but to leave my tray and trash on my table. He blows his nose on a napkin. He sets it down on the table and says lets go. We walk out of Quiznos only to realize this huge lady is running after us!

The rest you can figure out. It really, really pissed her off that we left our trash out. I feel like maybe I expect too much from these people. I'm stuck in the service industry as well. I'm sure as hell not too nice to people, but I am not rude. I do my job. I'm definitely not charging for water or giving rude responses about special requests. I mean, really.

Anyway. I have this story to talk about - shoe disenfectant style. But I'm so burned out from relaying those fast food horror stories that you all just have to wait.

And your duties are...

2007-10-02T11:56:00.001-07:00

Okay. So.

Lets talk about last week. I get my schedule emailed to me everyday around five or six pm. Last week I get this email that tells me I am doing the Cosmo Girl Prom 2008 shoot. Right. It is a two day shoot with five other girls. The call time is at eight AM.

So I am kind of like, "whatever." Like, how bad could it be?

I sit through six hours of hair and makeup - extensions, tiaras, fake eyelashes - all of that. I start to realize I am going to be there for a very, very long time. I mean really - I'm talking at least thirty dresses I was supposed to be photographed in. Thirty dresses all in yellow, pink, and sea foam green. At two PM I put on my first dress. It's pastel pink with a million and a half silver stars scattered all over it, prom princess style. Meaning, sleeveless and poofy at the bottom. The stylist puts me in silver heels and decorates every inch of my bare skin with tacky silver jewelry. I hear the girls behind me discussing what their prom dresses looked like when they were in highschool - meaning a few months ago.

The hairstylist is this egotistical gay guy from Brazil who grabbed my head and told me to "focus on him" while he was doing my hair. He also gave me regulations for how high I was allowed to hold my coffee mug - in case he or someone else ran into it. The other hairstylist tells me that she was "dancing" all night and still has not slept. The makeup artist asks me how I got chosen for the shoot considering I don't "fit in." The photographer spends the morning yelling at everyone and when he finally starts snapping away - he chain smokes at the same time.

Needless to say, I started to lose it. I looked at myself in the mirror - realized I looked like an idiot - and found the art director. It's kind of my experience that the art director on the shoot is usually the most annoying. They kind of just walk around and spit out their opinion to anyone who will listen. I find the art director on the set. I hadn't looked at the set until this moment. Picture huge silver platorm style stairs, pillars, etc. I see the model at the time dramatically "posing" between stair steps and that is when I really lost it.

So. I tell the art director that my schedule told me I was done at five and that I had to leave at five. She tells me I am required to stay no matter how long it takes. I laugh and tell her sorry, I just have better things to do. Two minutes later I get a call from my agency.

One of those rude, condescending, you are really making a mistake right now calls. It's like, when you talk to me all in that style, you can't say anything to me to make me change my mind. But, Turns out!!! I have a duty as a model, that's right - model, to put up with these situations. It's my duty to have a good attitude and take good pictures no matter what the circumstances are. Sometimes, it's going to take twenty hours to get the right shots. After all, this isn't just a prom shoot, it's for a national publication. Cosmo Girl wanted me for a reason, I am told.

Exactly. Everyone I know - plus their parents - could see this if they wanted to. People that respect me could be waiting in line at the grocery story and see Lindsey Lohan's rehab story on the cover, or whatever hot teen celeb of the month, pick it up and flip through and oh wait! Isn't that the girl I use to hang out with who use to be in college? Or, I met that girl she was doing graphic design for some company awhile ago...and now...

Ugh. So I told my agency that it's my duty as a human being in New York to take care of myself and not look totally ridiculous. I told them it would be a better use of my time to go home and listen to music while eating ice cream. And then realizing I was on speaker phone I screamed: I mean really, for everyone that is listening I am wearing a pink fucking dress with stars on it! They are about to put a tiara on my head. I'm leaving. My booker laughed in the background and told me to get out of there.

A relief I thought - until I tried to get out. The hairstylist didn't want to take my extensions out - since I was ditching everyone and "undermining" his "work." The photographer asked why I even bothered to show up. The stylist told me she was offended that I complained about the dress. Apparently, I really fucked the art director over. However, I did get out of that place alive. Only to wash my hair and realize that the hairstylist when "cutting into my extenstions," actually cut into my haircut.

Photoshoots can be brutal. I'm serious.

Back back back.

2007-09-03T10:52:00.000-07:00

I have not posted in a little over a month. This is only because: A lot has happened.

1) I left town.
+ I spent a lot of time in actual, real mountains. It was spectacular. I
could breathe real air. At night, the sky wasn't reddish and hazy. It
was black. With this green strip called the Milky Way and these super
bright dots called stars.
- It's like, why do I choose to live around trash and crack heads?
+ I drove across Canada. I saw more sky and various odd towns.
- Canada is actually kind of weird. There isn't much to eat. Plus, I
drove from the west side of Canada back to New York. I got kind of
bored.

2) I was kicked out of my apartment.
+ I moved out of Bed-Stuy. Like, finally. I don't have to wake up to car alarms, ice cream trucks, ambulances, and drug busts.
- I am technically homeless for the time being. It's not a big deal.

3) I've been sick, twice.
- Once in Canada. And now for the past few days. I wish I was in Iowa
so that I could see a normal doctor and get normal help.

4) I've been extrememly frustrated.
+ I started using a digital camera.
- I can't get my photos on my hard drive!!! Which means I still don't have a flickr account.

Anyway, I do have stories to tell.

For one, Border Inspection was maybe the most hilariously type-casted, scripted scenario I have ever been a part of. I was in a van with a trailer -- with three other guys. Band guys, right? The guy in the passenger seat was Mexican with hair past his shoulders. My passport was taken away for whatever reason. They pulled us over and called three extra people to help search everything. It's like, good luck/have a good time. If you ever get a chance - please, take a look in the van of a band who has been touring for a month. It's a disaster.

Anyway. We are put in a "waiting room." A Hispanic family with a million plus kids, aunts and uncles, whatever - joins us shortly after. And that's it! I all of the sudden felt right back at home! Kidding. The next thing I see is a black man in a large jersey, baggy pants, and expensive sunglasses step outside his small car (now I feel like I am back at my apartment). He is then full-body searched. He is the only person that is body searched. In fact, I only had to turn my pockets inside-out. While all of this is happening an abundance of white upper-middle class families with RVs are cheerfully breezing through the border - visors and all.

Now. This would have all been fine and understandable. But we had to wait a very long time, with the extra help and all. And I start to hear a "jangly" noise. I peer out the waiting room window and see one of the inspection officers pulling a tambourine out of the trailer -- and yes, playing it. Full on rocking out. It's like, come on.

Anyway. Some music to check out...

+ A Place to Bury Strangers
+ Rosewood Thieves. They have a new 7-inch out titled Lonesome. The EP will be out soon.
+ The Yoko
+ The new Liars record
+ Battles. I just saw them play at the South Street Seaport with Deerhunter. Whether or not you like "meth rock" or whatever they call it, I was totally impressed.
And of course, if you still have not checked out Bear Hands, you are missing out.

And some new blogs...

+ My sister and basically, other sister - Zeb and Beej just moved to Provo, Utah. They have started writing about it.

+ A good friend from high school, who I actually got to spend time with
in New York recently...has moved to Ireland. And is writing about it. Warbling Sparrow.

As for myself, I might be living in Europe in a few weeks. That's all for now.

Twenty grand and I'll marry you for US citizenship.

2007-07-31T12:14:00.000-07:00

Looking like an idiot in a photo store -- just trying to buy some film -- is one of the worst feelings ever. Those guys really know how to make someone feel inferior. So maybe I don't know anything about photography, whatever.

It's really hard to write when things are going decently well. I'm basically just hanging out. I work about ten hours a week and I spend the rest of my time going to museums/galleries/shows/beaches, laying in grass, hanging out on roofs, driving around Brooklyn in cars and mopeds, attempting to play music, walking across bridges, sitting on curbs and people watching, etc. I've somehow figured out how to make it work in this city.

And then yesterday I was reminded of the drama related incidents that are forcing me to move out of my apartment. I kind of realized that in about a month I'm going to have to work five times as much to afford a place to live. Not only that, I have to find a place to live and move all of my belongings. And that is when I realized, that yes, this city actually sucks. It's dirty, expensive, I'm surrounded by crazy people...there is a lot to do but I can't do any of it without money -- and once it's cold everything that doesn't cost money doesn't exist. The only way to have money is to work all the fucking time, so let's face it -- I'm really lucky right now and unless I can figure out a way to either not pay rent, not work, or have twenty grand in my bank account....I'm going to have to move to LA in a couple of months.

I'm taking off for a couple weeks as of Friday. Tahoe first and then I am driving across Canada. I'll have some stories to tell and some rolls of film I'll never develop.

Only large people are entitled to personal space.

2007-07-09T17:53:00.000-07:00

My mom visited me last week. My sister and her best friend visited me this past week.

Here is what I have learned from it.

*Jamba Juice is always a good idea.

*Ten dollar sandwiches are expensive. So are three dollar cupcakes.

*Cab rides are actually alarming. Car services are frightening.

*A few blocks away means a ton of complaining about someones feet.

*Comedy shows are funny, but more offensive than anything young girls from Iowa have ever heard.

*It's kind of rad doing anything you want at any point of the day.

*My neighborhood is slightly abrasive.

While my sister was here the Puerto Rican below me decided to blare reggaeton at six in the morning. When it was still going strong at ten AM my boyfriend decided to stomp on the floor. This resulted in the large, tattooed, blinged-out, almost shirtless man barging into my hallway with the intention of fucking your ass up! and coming after you! The "you" meaning my boyfriend. This led to my landlord calling the police. Apparently my boyfriend made the guy's ceiling crumble. It didn't help that my boyfriend's response was: maybe the ceiling crumbled because your building is a piece of shit. I was pushed out of the whole thing because according to the Puerto Rican this is a man to man talk! And when I say push I mean literally. For real.

Don't worry. The ordeal ended with the Puerto Rican and my boyfriend shaking hands, my roommate running away to "get food," and my landlord posting a sign in our hallway with new building rules:

1. Turn down your music between 12 AM and 12 PM.

2. No stomping on the floor.

Everything else in regards to my neighborhood went well except for one incident. We all got off the train around one AM and my sister sees the infamous Kennedy's Fried Chicken. In neon lettering the store reads CHICKEN-PIZZA-BISCUITS. And who else besides my sister needs one biscuit before she goes to bed? We walked into the crowded fast food joint and waited at the counter for the .35 cent biscuit. While waiting a large black man next to my sister says, excuse me. Now my sister thought he was apologizing for grazing her arm.

But no.

He abrasively told her she was completely "invading his personal space" by standing so close to him. He then turned to the black guy next to him and asked the guy if he could believe that she would even consider that he was apologizing to her -- when she was so rudely taking up his space.

My boyfriend explained that it was a "misunderstanding." We grabbed the biscuit and darted out. And then laughed for about ten minutes.

I spent the day on Coney Island and I have to say: I had a really good week.

Vegan hot dogs vs. Dance Dance Revolution

2007-06-17T18:11:00.001-07:00

I spent last weekend in Orlando, Florida. I had never been to Florida. It was always kind of the place to go when I was in high school. You know, spring break, family vacations...that type of thing. After spending a few days there, I really can't figure out why people go there. I mean, I did like all of the lizards running around. And man, Orlando's grass is SO long. But other than that I found it kind of annoying. In fact, downtown Orlando wasn't much different than Des Moines, Iowa except the streets were crowded with some of the most sleazy dressed girls I had seen in awhile. However, I will give props to the vegan hot dog stand guy. When is that idea going to catch on everywhere?

I guess the most interesting thing that happened to me this week would be the twelve year old birthday party I worked yesterday afternoon. That's right. Yesterday I spent four hours making Shirley Temples for thirty twelve year olds. The party consisted of a buffet, the first course being sushi (I'm serious), followed by chicken tenders, salad, fruit and nachos. And of course later on -- cake. The best part being the couple hours of Dance Dance Revolution (which yes, I did participate in) and a couple hours of karaoke. Talk about turning twelve. If I could get something like that going for my next birthday, lets just say I would be one happy camper.

It's just time.

2007-05-28T13:14:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking about buying a bike. And not just because I think I'll look good on one.

First of all, for the past two weeks my train has been running every 24 minutes. In case you don't know, that's a really long time. The other morning I got to the platform as the train was pulling away. Usually when this happens I get a little upset. You know, I'll throw a few harsh words at the train and then sit down with my arms crossed, pout a little bit. But the other day I was so angry I was speechless. I heavily considered going home and putting on my running shoes so I could get to where I was going. 24 minutes? I can do a lot in 24 minutes. I can make and eat a meal, download and watch 30 Rock, rock it on multiple Guitar Hero songs, take a nap and wake up refreshed, play a couple rounds of cards, write a blog entry...and countless other things, I'm sure.

Second, I have a few friends who play basketball in their free time. I also have a few friends who go to "the gym." I feel like I'm seriously out of shape. Trust me on this one, I have no muscle or any sort of tone on my body. I think it's time I take control of myself and start working out.

And that's about it. It just seems like it's time.

The problem is, I almost get hit by a car everyday. In New York, it's illegal to ride your bike on the sidewalk. This bike idea is potentially really dangerous. Plus, I don't want want hat head from wearing a helmet. Obviously.

So I don't know. I'm weighing the options.

I woke up to bongos and a car accident this morning.

2007-05-27T09:38:00.001-07:00

With all of my free time I have learned one thing, my neighborhood is really loud. And I mean really loud. And not just loud in the morning or a particular time of day, loud twenty four hours a day.

I'm talking about:

* constant car alarms
* block parties
* fights
* police sirens/ambulance sirens
* reggaeton/hip-hop/cars that sit parked with their music blaring
* gospel choirs/church parties
* car accidents
* ice cream trucks
* kids running around at all hours

I've never experienced anything like this. At least I can my neighborhood has a "vibe." I wish ice cream didn't give me such a headache. This one ice cream truck literally runs twenty four hours a day and my apartment has been super hot lately. I need to buy a fan.

Now that it is warm, everyone has been talking about summer plans. That's kind of the problem about never getting paid, I can't actually make plans. I can't even make plans to go to dinner. I'm getting a little depressed, hopefully I won't be stuck here all summer. I need to get away from guitar hero for a period of more than twenty four hours.

I don't really have anything of interest to talk about. I've only had super relaxing/boring days for the past couple of weeks. I've been sleeping in parks and learning how to cook. It's kind of nice. We'll see how long it lasts. I've been thinking about bands that sign to major record labels, girls who sign to agencies, etc. It's interesting because I actually do some type of work seven days a week, but I don't actually get paid. I just want to know who said: Hey lets get people to sign their life away to us and exploit them for their talent. We'll make them work all the time and make sure that everyone involves makes money except the person themself. It's probably the best idea of all time, I just can't believe it works. I've been thinking about starting an agency for models in bands. Okay so you already are running around all day going to castings, why not play shows too? Just sign this contract. Don't worry we'll give you money later. I think there is a market for cute people who play music. I'll look into it more later.

I don't sit at a desk anymore. Ever.

2007-05-15T07:37:00.000-07:00

In recent news...

I quit my office job, my real job, with the justification that I just recently signed to a modeling agency. So now I have no income but a lot of pictures of myself. It's kind of weird.

However, my apartment recently acquired guitar hero. Plus we have the first season of Lost. So I'm doing fairly well.

Since I've quit my job I've done things like:

1. Sleep
2. Coney Island with cotton candy
3. Photobooth pictures
4. Central Park with ice cream
5. A lot of guitar hero, too much actually.
6. TV watching + music listening
7. Grocery shopping (yes, I cook now, for real).
8. Laundry
9. Lots and lots of walking around

I'm headed to Brighton Beach this afternoon after I sign my life away (again) to some acting/commerical agency. And that's about it. My life basically rocks.

So I'll talk to you guys later with real blog posting or something.

Advice for the kids.

2007-05-03T13:31:00.000-07:00

I didn't really have a choice but to listen. The room next to me at my office is only separated by a sliding door. It's not exactly soundproof. A couple of days ago I am sitting at my desk. I overhear a meeting about the people they have been interviewing for the past week. I'm not even exaggerating when I tell you that ninety percent of the conversation was about what each person looked like. I'm going to leave it at that. I could go into details and make you laugh a little bit, but this is actually one hundred percent true and I am posting it on the internet. So let me just say this, although it was slightly appalling (but also hilarious, come on), I did come to the conclusion that what I look like actually matters, a lot.

I've started thinking about what other offices look for. In looks, obviously. At my job, most of the girls are very "hip" and pretty. They have tattoos and/or boobs. They dress well. Anyone who has seen one band before, can call out any "guy in band." They all look the same. School teacher, professor? I could probably call those out as well. So let's say you are a computer programmer or maybe even a multimedia artist. What kind of "after interview" conversation goes on there? Is it the talk about their laptop bag? I mean did you see that strap? Come on, it looked like it came with the first laptop ever invented. Besides, he wasn't even wearing it across his back, he had it hanging off one shoulder. Or maybe the talk would be about their brand of eyeglasses...I'm not too sure. And what about those guys who sell books on the street? Do the ones who dress the part sell more books? And what kind of look do you need for that?

I mean call me shallow, I pick most of my friends based on what they look like. I mean really, I want to be surrounded by attractive people. But what it really comes down to is this: I had no idea how much looks matter in the working industry. I mean I hear it all the time, but my parents always told me it was my personality that counted. Add some experience to that -- and wham! you would think you could get any job. Sorry to break it to you all who didn't know, but that just isn't the case. However, there is one positive aspect of this whole discovery. There must be something for everyone.

So. As long as you do what you look like, you'll probably do really well.

It's not weird, it's true.

2007-05-02T07:29:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not. Bear Hands is the next best band ever, like Arcade Fire style good. I'm serious. And I'm calling it right now so that in a year I can say, "told you so."

Believe it or not. For the first time in years, I'm sleeping on a normal bed on a bed frame. Plus, I have a desk to use? And a real dresser? Thanks, Elijah.

Believe it or not. If you get stuck in a car for five hours and can only listen to one album, Ambulance, isn't that bad of a choice.

Believe it or not. Soho Park is actually the new litmus test for "worth being friends with." Who doesn't like pretending they are in a parking garage/park while listening to world beats and eating fries? I don't even want to know.

Believe it or not, my train is running every twenty four minutes. Who picked that number? By the way, twenty four minutes is like an entire downloaded Office episode.

Believe it or not. The first bad sign of a movie is that it's description involves the phrase "coming of age." The second bad sign is that it revolves around clam digging. Diggers is not worth seeing, trust me on this one.

Believe it or not. I'm still not talking to that guy from my office. Apparently I went with "ignore so that it becomes really awkward." Whatever.

Real life at the office.

2007-04-30T10:12:00.001-07:00

Technology can be really damaging. Not only are half the bumble bees gone -- but it can ruin one's work environment. And by technology I mean text messaging and yes, email.

On occasion I'll send mis-fire texts to contacts in my phone book. Meaning I send a text message to the wrong person. It's usually never a big deal. Sometimes I even receive mis-fire texts. It usually brightens my day a little bit, makes me smile, laugh.

Unfortunately last week I sent a mis-fire email to a co-worker. And the email just happened to be about that particular co-worker. It was a stupid office scenario where I somehow got involved with something that had nothing to do with me. After several emails back and forth, the last one slightly condescending and rude, I decided I was done dealing with the situation. I sent an email to the girl actually involved, which read: I'm done dealing with 'insert name here." He's impossible. You can email him. He doesn't know what I'm talking about. The only problem was, I actually sent it to him. And I didn't find out until I got screamed at on the phone and called several names.

This has only resulted in a series of harassing emails from him to me. This morning I received six in a row. It's getting a little out of control. There are only a few things I can do.

1) I could quit my job so I don't have to deal with it anymore. It is getting a little out of hand. Who likes getting up every morning anyway? Not me.

2) I could post things on the internet about it, resulting in him probably finding out, only making my situation worse (but a little more hilarious).

3) I could document all of this and send it to The Office -- resulting in a funny episode that I'll eventually download from iTunes.

4) I could start sending equally as rude emails back to him, making me look like an idiot. He is twice my age. Why would I mess with that?

5) I could cut off contact with him completely, making every time we have to be around each other super awkward, but something to blog about.

I'm not too sure. Anyone have problems with this? It's got to be more common than I am aware of.

Alias: reality TV style.

2007-04-17T14:01:00.001-07:00

In recent news,

+ Trips to the midwest. Cheap thrift stores. Sky. Green. Perkins.

+ April is grilled cheese month. I guess that means I can blog freely about grilled cheese without feeling like an idiot for the next two weeks or so. Plus, I can order it all I want and brag about it to my friends.

+ Marc Ribot for holding an illegal show at Tonic the day after Tonic officially shut down. He had a following of protesters and other musicians, plus donuts and coffee were being handed out. He didn't stop playing until he was handcuffed and dragged out by the police.

+Children of Men. Why am I the last person on the planet to see it?

+/- I'm basically a double agent right now. That's right, just like on that show Alias. More details later.

-Tonic closing.

-Flip phones, never again. I break them every few months.

-Arby's is gross and I don't care what anyone has to say about it.

-Worst Tuesday for music releases, ever. I'm serious. Did you buy anything new today?

I just hope I'm half that rad at 84.

2007-04-12T09:16:00.000-07:00

What happen next is orange. I think. Or something other than being tired. Something after the tiger. Excedrin is like drinking water. My head hurts. Thom Yorke's solo album makes me wish it was warm outside. It's not. The wind is hissing. The raindrops feel like they were angrily thrown from the sky.

Last night I had to work. I had this table of three, two blonde girls and a guy. When I asked if they were ready to order they stared at me blankly and apologized. Sorry they, aren't from around here. And then reluctantly, I guess I'll order chicken tenders, she'll take the spinach salad. Only followed by, The spinach salad, is it just like a salad? When I asked where they were from, they replied, the upper west side. Lower Manhattan is tragic right now. My place of work is just some "hot lower east side spot" that makes money. As a consequence, we listen to even worse music when it gets busy and deal with people from "out of town."

There are a couple of reasons why I live in New York. Not because I like it, because a lot of the time, I don't. Not because it makes me happy, because most of the time, it doesn't. Not because I think it's going to "get me somewhere," because it most likely won't.

The past few months have been infused with several occasions where I have felt completely out of my mind. It has been those occasions that for whatever reason I stopped and looked up off the trash filled sidewalk. I stopped and looked away from that guy near the Bowery Mission jacking off onto the sidewalk. I've looked up and actually looked around. New York at it's finest. It is beautiful here. It's just that most of the time; it's really hard to tell. But when I stop and realize that I'm here, when I actually stop and look around...It is those times that I feel completely overwhelmed by the city's vibe.

New York City is a series of cycles, this weird place where the phrase “planets aligning” makes sense. Where the phrase, "must be a full moon" makes sense. New York is this intricate web of energy, people, and connections that frustrates me beyond belief. But for some reason, I feel like I need to be a part of it.

After saying goodbye to my boyfriend last week for what seems like forever, after finding out that Kurt Vonnegut died last night, and after several other events that have taken place in the last two weeks, this weekend is the beginning of something different. And it all sounds so trivial and insane, even sappy, right? But when things leave, there is room for other things. Tonic, which has been my sanctuary, my saving grace, since I moved here, is closing tomorrow, Friday the 13th. And I think that will officially mark the end of whatever the hell has been going on.

I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center. -- Rest in peace Kurt Vonnegut.

Other than being a rock star...

2007-04-11T13:55:00.001-07:00

Lately, my posts have been a little negative when it comes to the subject of "living in New York." Before I wrote this entry, I asked my friend if I complained too much about New York in my blog entries. His response was, not nearly enough. So basically, I feel okay about posting this. When New York is great, it's amazing. And I mean, really rad. But when it's bad, I consider jumping off the Williamsburg Bridge about every ten minutes. If it wasn't for idolator, I would have already washed up on the Jersey Shore.

It's funny when I talk to people who don't live in New York and all of the sudden I sound "successful." Because actually:

I'm not successful. In fact I'm broke almost all the time. The only reason I'm not bankrupt is because I work the equivalent of working ten days a week. No, really. I do.

I do graphic design in an office, but that doesn't mean anything in this city. The only great thing about my job is that I'm on the second floor and can take the stairs to my office. I've talked to people who have to wait at least ten minutes just to get on the elevator. Every single day.

Sometimes, I get paid because I'm skinny. But 80% of the girls here look just like me. So it's like, whatever.

Brooklyn is nice, just not where my apartment is. And yes, I only live a couple miles from work. But for some reason it takes me 45 minutes to get there every day.

Every band on the planet does play in New York. But I'm either working or totally burned out on shows because I work in two venues and have to see live music all the time.

There are good restaurants here, but I can't afford them.

The only time I ever do anything in New York, is when I have friends and / or family visit. That is when I am forced to take time off of work, pretend to have money, and show everyone how great it is here.

Other than that, I basically live like a rock star. Which is why I started a band, obviously.

Thank God for Bed-Stuy.

2007-04-09T10:49:00.000-07:00

All I have to say is this. When I joked about music being "over." I was actually serious.

Sin-e closed a few weeks ago.

Tonic is closing Friday.

The Knitting Factory is for sale.

And Irving Plaza is now Filmore plaza, as of a week ago.

I'm going to blame it on the worst architecture ever -- who even took the time to buy the air space above Tonic. Studios start at $775,000. It's conveniently located across the street from the lower east side projects. It's Russian constructivism gone wrong. Grandmother's garden mosaic with every shade of blue that shouldn't be next to each other. Post modern art deco -- whatever. It's ugly. It sucks. And I can't wait to see the people who move into it. If this is the future of New York architecture, I'll be in Buenos Aires within the week.

Anyway. Phrase of the week: "Yeah or right." It's like, I don't care, you choose. But I'm out either way.

Example:

Person A: So what do you think about meeting for breakfast before you have to be at work?

Person B: Uh, what time are you thinking?

Person A: You know, like seven AM.

Person B: Ha, yeah OR right.

So. I was told last night you can actually grow anything in a pot, like water chestnuts and kale. Once I get bored of guitar hero, container gardening will be my new music. But I'm starting a band either way, just for that Japan tour. See you guys later.

I need a pro password hacker.

2007-04-05T08:20:00.000-07:00

I spent the weekend in San Francisco. Take away the homeless people and San Francisco is basically perfect. Or at least -- it's beautiful and clean. Plus there are things to do.

That's all I have to say about San Francisco. Six hour flight to New York from California is one of the worst feelings on the planet. And will someone please tell me why JFK feels like some weird time warp - space shuttle - labyrinth?! Okay rad, six hour flight, now try and beat Galaxy Maze 5000. I'm serious, try finding your way out of that airport, plug in baggage claim -- you're screwed. Guaranteed. But once you do beat it, you get to wait in the rain for a cab that costs relatively close to a million dollars. The cab takes me to the middle of nowhere ghetto Brooklyn. Rain. Cold. Trash everywhere. This thought has been running through my head since I've gotten back, I am paying how much to live here, wait, why? Can't help it. It's like someone put a screen saver in my brain that constantly scrolls that phrase. I've tried fiercely shaking my head to make it go away, but I always get asked to enter a password...it's complicated, I know. Although, I haven't tried "move to California" as a password yet...

Anyway. What I haven't been announcing is that I am in a band. The problem is, it's this weird duo thing and it hasn't really been taking off the way I would like it to. Since I've been back from San Francisco, I've really wanted to push my projects to the next level. My band has decided to add three members. Just to give my readers (you) an idea of what I've been doing with this project, I thought I would include the email I sent out yesterday to the newest members of my band.

Ready?

Hey --

So listen. Since I've known Andy, we've talked a lot about projects that we are interested in. This new one that we are really pushing for involves you. Basically, I just want to fill you in on what's going on -- so you don't feel left out when he have our press shoot in the next couple of weeks. Keep everyone involved up to speed, you know?

Anyway. Andy and I started a band, don't know if you've heard/read anything about it yet. I know our Myspace page has been having some problems, but it's called Tender Heart Tea Party. We started off with this experimental/avant garde/alien subversion duo "thing." But we quickly realized that we were taking on too much for ourselves, especially for what we want to do in the long run. You know, it's important to have short term goals -- with long term visions. So we sat down and decided to simplify and maximize the situation. Basically, we're adding three members to the band. And yes, you are one of them. So you know, if you haven't been practicing that cello -- now is the time to start!

Also -- and this might be jumping ahead, or asking to much of you, but we most likely will be touring Japan. And maybe a few secondary market areas in the US. We really are going to need a tour manager, but if we can't find someone we trust enough, Andy and I think that you would probably be the best person to keep everyone in line, keep things running smoothly, keep us -- as a band -- moving forward. Either way, it's really important that your drivers license is valid, because you are probably going to be the after show driver or the early morning driver. Obviously, we'll share driving shifts, but we feel like you probably will be the best driver of a large tour van with a trailer (that will be holding all of our gear, we don't actually have the trailer yet -- but we're looking on craigslist, etc. every chance we get).

The good news is -- we do have a merch girl. She's super sweet and cute. She is living in Chicago right now, but she's originally from Cedar Rapids. You'll get along with her I'm sure. And we already are in the works of getting some of our merch printed. We are using a company that has worked with a lot of great bands. They are called MerchDirect http://www.merchdirect.com/mainpage/ So if you get a free second, you should check out their online store. I'm in the process of getting an exclusive contract with them, so that we can also be in their store.

The most important thing that is happening right now and it's coming up quickly I know -- but we really need new press photos. Photos of all of us together and not just for press articles. We need it for our Myspace page, too. Think about it, when it's just me and Andy, it's like we're leaving out 3/5 of the creative process -- and that's not how we work. Everyone in the band is really important, no matter how late they were asked to join.

This weekend is really good for me as far as the shoot is going to go. It's probably going to be on my roof in Bed-Stuy. I think my roof and neighborhood give a good feel for where we are from and where we want to go. Are you free Saturday or Sunday? Afternoon-ish will give us the best lighting. I have a couple of stylists in mind, so don't worry about your hair or anything.

Okay, great. So brush up on those cello skills. Andy and I have a few things recorded, so we are okay for a little bit on demos...but we really want new material ready for our shows and we'd love to record some new tracks.

So, I guess I'll see you this weekend! I'll let Andy know I filled you in. And maybe we could do a band brunch before the shoot -- swap ideas, etc. I know of a couple places in the area. Oh, and feel free to call me if you have any questions!

***

Keep an eye on Myspace, we're bound to be on at least a few people's top 8. And I'll keep everyone posted on tour dates, as well.

Music is over. Pretending to play music is in.

2007-03-28T14:27:00.000-07:00

Time after time I prove to be the last person to find out about anything. Is it because I space off and just miss everything -- or is the universe actually against me? At this point, I really just don't know. Am I the only person on this planet that didn't know Guitar Hero is the most fun thing to do, ever? That's right, believe it or not, I was introduced to Guitar Hero for the first time last night. It's the hipster Dance Dance Revolution. It's like being in a band, but not at all. It's rad because when you play DDR, you just look stupid. No matter what. But with Guitar Hero, it's possible to look "kind of" cool. Last night, it was 1:30 AM and I thought to myself, this game is going to ruin my life. I have to work in the morning. I can't keep playing. But I just couldn't stop.

Anyway. The bottom line is, I played Guitar Hero for the first time last night. And after a few hours nothing could steer my eyes away from the screen. It's even fun to watch. And when I just couldn't get myself to go home and sleep, I realized this is the type of thing that could ruin someone's life.

I woke up thinking about Guitar Hero. And I've thought about it all day. Turns out everyone in my office loves it as well. My roommate is phenomenal when it comes to winning this game. And every friend I've mentioned it to found out about it at least a year ago.

The problem is, I don't own it. The only place I know that offers it, offers it starting at 10 PM on Tuesdays. I might have to request a schedule change so that I can come into work late on Wednesdays. The game is beneficial for my job too, it improves finger dexterity.

Basically, Guitar Hero is the new listening to music. Because lets face it, music is getting old. However, playing music on something plastic, battling your friends, and watching colored things on a screen -- that is worth something.

This time I lost my entire purse, not just my wallet.

2007-03-21T13:05:00.000-07:00

Last week, I spent several days in Austin, Texas. This was my first trip to Texas.

Austin hosts a music festival every year called South by Southwest. Basically, the lower east side of Manhattan and the Standard Hotel in LA take over Austin for a week in their best picked outfits.

I've never been a "festival" person. Think bad music left and right (with the exceptions, obviously). Vice event in a lodge where a balcony wall randomly falls, fire trucks show up -- all while Les Savy Fav is playing. Kings of Leon and The Stooges play random show. Myspace truck giving away free veggie and hot dogs. Oh wait, and free shoelaces?! Every guy I've ever kind of dated. Everyone I don't get to see from NY, LA, and Texas . Band called Dandi Wind from Montreal, the Yeah Yeah Yeah's but way more insane. Karen O but ten times more hot. Lame sponsored showcases in warehouses where no one shows up -- except the bands that are playing. Hired photographers who take pictures of the girlfriends of the guys that are playing -- for proof of how rad the day went. Blocked off streets. Streets, tents, venues, and even an airport full of hip guys and girls in tight jeans with sunglasses who might as well be hanging out in an American Apparel sponsored reality TV show. Are you thinking too cool for school? Because I was the entire time. Quite disgusting, if you want my honest opinion.

Texas is cheap. And it's warm. The Mexican food is great. I repeatedly saw a fast food chain called "WHATABURGER." And stands on the highway advertising they sell "pecans." I managed to leave my purse at a Taco Cabana on the way to the airport in Houston. It was kind of like how I left my purse at a Latin restaurant in Chicago. Except that time I was able to go back and get it. Learned lesson of the month? Don't lose things off the highway in chains where the employees don't speak English. Also, don't ever take off purse when eating.

Anyway. I had a really good time.

+ Texas being warm and giving me a break from NY.
+ The Office for being the only thing that can totally save me when I'm in a terrible mood.
+ Cute bands who sing and dance with unicorn pinatas on stage.
+ 24

- Boyfriends who leave on tour.
- 24 stressing me out like no other because nothing positive happens in it, ever.

hip hop = the new me

2007-03-13T13:15:00.000-07:00

Now that I have lived in Bed-Stuy for almost a year, I think it's safe to say, I'm basically a native.

A few things have changed about me.

1) I use to be attracted to skinny white guys with tight jeans and glasses who play guitar. Now, I am attracted to built black men with baggy pants, over sized coats/hoodies, bling, and sometimes even hats.

2) I like graffiti more than I like paintings found in the MOMA. In fact, I don't even go to museums anymore. I just walk around my neighborhood.

3) When I hear the word slim, I immediately think someone is calling my name.

4) I use to answer the phone and say "Hello?" Now I say, "Yo."

5) I read the New York Post everyday. I quote the New York Post everyday. I use the New York Post as my source for current news reports.

6) I'll admit it. I've seriously considered buying a couple of those black romance novels that are advertised on the subway. In fact, when the person next to me on the train is reading one, I am one of those creeps that reads over their shoulder.

7) I find myself a little irritated at all of the white people who are moving into our neighborhood. We were here first!

8) I stopped carrying mace with me. Now I carry a hunting knife. And I'm not even afraid to use it.

9) I'll be the first to admit it. Indie rock sucks. Who even cares that Arcade Fire came out with a new album? I don't. I've got my Jay-Z to listen to. By the way, did you hear that Jay-Z and Beyonce broke up? I need more details.

10) I would do anything to have textured hair. I even asked my stylist if I could have an Afro anytime in the near future (she seemed okay with the idea).

Now I just wish I was more specified with my new culture.

I guess what I am trying to say is, I just want to be even more hip hop.

No point in arguing facts.

2007-03-08T12:33:00.000-08:00

So. A few minutes ago my friend asked me if I knew about Google page tracking (I didn't).

I Chat Friend: Ok. So basically every site on google has a rating. And the higher it is, the more awesome your site is cause people link to yo...and you link to people, etc. Anyway, I have a 4, which is totally good. Apple.com is a 10, most big companies are a 10. I'm mad at you now,
cause you have a 5.

Before I got too excited about this great rating, I decided to do some research.

My aunt and uncle in Portland are rated a 4.

Both of my Ichat friend's sites - symposed and tagisu - are rated a 4.

Why? I'm not too sure, apparently:

Ichat Friend: Your blog is rated hgher than either of my wildly popular sites.

So I kept researching.

U2.com is rated a 5. As well as my boyfriend's band page.

Sorry Das Slug, you somehow managed to get a 0. Maybe you should update more?

Geese Aplenty received a 6. So did Pitchfork and my work.

So the real mystery is...First of all, what does a "page rank" really mean? Because it might not be as rad as it sounds. Second of all, why I am so amazing and beating out all of my friends? And third, am I really ranked the same as U2? Because I would say I'm about on par with being as awesome as Achtung Baby, but War? Man, I don't know about that...

Well. According to Wikipedia a page rank is an indicator of an individual page's value...PageRank results from a "ballot" among all the other pages on the World Wide Web about how important a page is...

That was enough research for me. I'm important and I have value. Life goal number one and two, yes, done.

If you want to check out your page rank (or double check to make sure I'm not talking myself up) you can go here.

I'll see you guys at the rank awards. Well, not all of you.

I'm in a constant "Beat Mode" state.

2007-03-07T16:54:00.001-08:00

I spent a few days in Chicago this past weekend.

I guess it's about time I tell you about these random trips I've been taking. It's quite simple. I'm on tour. No, I'm not on Broadway. And I'm not in a hip rock band either. I'm on the Future Trend Vision tour. In real life terms that means every few weeks I'm part of a hilarious hair show. And by hilarious I mean my hair is not only part of a vision -- but it's a future trend. The show focuses on four "trends." Are you ready for this? Because right now the trends will rock your socks off: Nordic Serenity, Rustic Deluxe, Pop Couture, and Sensual Intrigue. That's right.

Anyway. Yes. Future Trend Vision. You don't need to know any more.

I like Chicago. It's a city with things to do and it still has that Midwest vibe. The worst part is that I was stuck at the Rosemont Theater eighty percent of my time there. The Rosemont Theater is conveniently located across the street from the airport, literally. So the only thing I can really talk about is that Chicago was really cold. I forgot that in the Midwest the snow is always falling horizontally . This makes walking totally lame. Also, the O’Hare airport has this unbelievable power to ruin any trip. Every flight out of JFK to O’Hare was cancelled. I switched airports and got on a flight that was surprisingly "on time." After pulling away from the gate we were informed that we had to wait an hour "or" two before taking off. I was almost ready to turn into a crazy person and start running up and down the aisle screaming. They kept the seatbelt sign on, just "in case" we could suddenly take off. The worst part was that they wouldn't give us water. We had to turn around twice in the air because we couldn't land. My hour and a half flight turned into something between five and six.

Anyway. Cool new thing to do? Hanging out with mood beams, best toy ever. The best part is, ... 'Beat Mode', which you activate by pressing and holding the Mode button for two seconds. This activates a sound sensor in your Mood Beam, and makes his light flash on and off to noise. Sit it on a speaker and it'll go crazy...Here is a taste of how rad they are: mood beams being rad.

That's it.