October disappeared in what feels like a matter of hours, and now the Halloween fun is upon us. Shops, offices, homes and cars are decorated to varying degrees with Halloween paraphernalia from the ghoulish to the cute, and TV shows are screening their special holiday episodes. I must admit to delighting in Glee’s Rocky Horror tribute, and observe that Mr Schuester should take off his shirt more often.
I’m somewhat inured to the loopiness of the season, having already experienced it twice, but Mum has been running around taking photographs of giant pumpkins and animatronic zombies lifting their glassy-eyed heads on and off in purgatorial repetition. This last week, however, she has been visiting friends in Vancouver. We’ll be spending a lot of time at airports this weekend as I collect her on Saturday, and then we head to LAX on Sunday night for our 14 hour blind dash in a speeding tin can back to Melbourne. We land on Cup Day! Oh, how I’m looking forward to being back in Melbourne, albeit for barely more than two weeks. A flying visit indeed, with many catch-ups, dinners and assorted revelry on the agenda.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
New York, New York
A couple of weeks ago, Mum and I spent a few days in New York. We flew in on a Thursday, landing in the early evening and greeted by fairly heavy rain and wind. After checking in to a boutique hotel on the upper East side, we walked to a nearby restaurant, one of several recommended by the hotel. Il Vagabondo is a little Italian joint, nestled just below street level in a former bocce alley. The bar, kitchen and coat check are at the front, and a narrow hallway leads to a small dining area running the length of a bocce alley, still intact and available to play on. The long, narrow dining arrangement called to mind the dining car on a train; not made for large groups, but quite cosy for two people. I ate delicious, hand-made agnoletti with butternut pumpkin (or squash, as they call it), sage, garlic and burnt butter. Yummy.
On the Friday we took ourselves off to the Guggenheim museum. Their current special exhibition is called Chaos and Classicism, and focuses on art produced between the First and Second World Wars. The (mostly) paintings on display include early works by Picasso, and are a mix of muscled bravado and idealised beauty. The human body is much on display, and the images are clean, quiet and orderly, as if artists wanted to return to a sense of calm and hope after the shock of the Great War (not knowing, of course, the world was headed for another within a generation). One of the most beautiful pieces was a golden sculpture of a woman’s head - the artist’s wife (or mistress, you know these artists). It is goddess-like and elegant in its simplicity. Check it out:
Head in Brass
After the Guggenheim, we took a stroll through Central Park to the West side, and headed south to catch up with an Aussie friend of mine who is now living in New York and pursuing a stand-up career. We feasted on bagels and then, having merrily chatted for an hour or so, suddenly realised we were going to be late for Memphis, the Tony Award-winning musical we had booked to see.
Which reminds me: when lining up at the Shubert Theatre box office to purchase our tickets that morning, we found ourselves an involuntary audience to quite a performance. The woman at the front of the line - hereafter known as the Obnoxious Brit - was pleading her case for free tickets for that evening’s show. She described the sad tale of the eight people she was traveling with “all the way from the south of France” who had bought tickets to the previous night’s show through an agent, only to have the tickets delivered to their hotel after the performance had begun. OB had got on the phone to the theatre straight away and was told to come to the box office first thing in the morning where, they promised, she’d be taken care of. After hearing her repeat her story countless times, three things were clear: (1) she had probably annoyed the person on the phone sufficiently (not getting the answer she wanted) until that person got rid of her by handballing her onto the box office; (2) she wanted to be given replacement tickets free of charge, although she didn’t exactly say those words; and (3) the theatre was not going to give them to her. I’ve got to give her props for trying, she threw it all out there, pled her case and was very persistent. But there comes a time when one must recognise that one has done all one can and it is time to stop. I don’t know when she reached that point. Perhaps as she was escorted off the premises by security.
That night, the theatre was packed to the rafters (which was pretty much where we were sitting) and I half expected to see OB there with her entourage, bullying her way into sitting in the aisles if necessary (something she offered to do during her box office performance). The show was terrific; telling the story of black music’s emergence into white popular culture through radio and television, it had great songs, choreography and dancing, performed at breakneck speed with joy and verve.
On Saturday we slept in and then headed to Greenwich Village. It was a lovely, sunny day, though windy. We strolled along Bleeker Street, lined up at Magnolia Bakery for some yummy delicious cupcakes, and had a late lunch at a funky fish café called Choptank. That night we saw another show, Time Stands Still, written by David Marguilies and starring the wonderful Laura Linney, the urbane Eric Bogosian, and the pixie-like Christina Ricci. Beautifully written and performed, it’s about two adrenalin-junkie war correspondents and what happens to their relationship after one nearly dies when a car bomb goes off, yet can’t wait to go back, while the other decides he has had enough and is ready for a “comfortable” life. Fabulous.
On Sunday we took the subway all the way to the southern tip of Manhattan to board a helicopter. After more than an hour of waiting in various lines, we got our 15 minute ride around the Statue of Liberty (aka “The Lady”), up the Hudson River and back again. I had been hoping the ride would take us right over the city, but I guess there are laws about that, so we stuck to the waterways. Nonetheless, it was rather exciting to be perilously airborne (yet feeling quite safe) and we got a good view of Manhattan in all its high-rise, metropolitan glory; Empire State Building, Chrysler Building, Ground Zero, Madison Square Garden, Central Park. We also got a birds-eye view of Hoboken, New Jersey and Brooklyn. By the time we got back to the hotel we barely had time to grab something to eat before the airport shuttle arrived to whisk us back to Newark. This journey introduced us to the second most obnoxious person in New York. The shuttle bus driver greeted us by yelling at us for making a double booking (we didn’t) and slammed the doors of the bus in our faces before we had a chance to load in our suitcases. He then proceeded to lean on his horn every few seconds, as apparently he was in a hurry and nobody in New York was moving fast enough for him. I was disinclined to tip him, but Mum’s a softie.
On the Friday we took ourselves off to the Guggenheim museum. Their current special exhibition is called Chaos and Classicism, and focuses on art produced between the First and Second World Wars. The (mostly) paintings on display include early works by Picasso, and are a mix of muscled bravado and idealised beauty. The human body is much on display, and the images are clean, quiet and orderly, as if artists wanted to return to a sense of calm and hope after the shock of the Great War (not knowing, of course, the world was headed for another within a generation). One of the most beautiful pieces was a golden sculpture of a woman’s head - the artist’s wife (or mistress, you know these artists). It is goddess-like and elegant in its simplicity. Check it out:
Head in Brass
After the Guggenheim, we took a stroll through Central Park to the West side, and headed south to catch up with an Aussie friend of mine who is now living in New York and pursuing a stand-up career. We feasted on bagels and then, having merrily chatted for an hour or so, suddenly realised we were going to be late for Memphis, the Tony Award-winning musical we had booked to see.
Which reminds me: when lining up at the Shubert Theatre box office to purchase our tickets that morning, we found ourselves an involuntary audience to quite a performance. The woman at the front of the line - hereafter known as the Obnoxious Brit - was pleading her case for free tickets for that evening’s show. She described the sad tale of the eight people she was traveling with “all the way from the south of France” who had bought tickets to the previous night’s show through an agent, only to have the tickets delivered to their hotel after the performance had begun. OB had got on the phone to the theatre straight away and was told to come to the box office first thing in the morning where, they promised, she’d be taken care of. After hearing her repeat her story countless times, three things were clear: (1) she had probably annoyed the person on the phone sufficiently (not getting the answer she wanted) until that person got rid of her by handballing her onto the box office; (2) she wanted to be given replacement tickets free of charge, although she didn’t exactly say those words; and (3) the theatre was not going to give them to her. I’ve got to give her props for trying, she threw it all out there, pled her case and was very persistent. But there comes a time when one must recognise that one has done all one can and it is time to stop. I don’t know when she reached that point. Perhaps as she was escorted off the premises by security.
That night, the theatre was packed to the rafters (which was pretty much where we were sitting) and I half expected to see OB there with her entourage, bullying her way into sitting in the aisles if necessary (something she offered to do during her box office performance). The show was terrific; telling the story of black music’s emergence into white popular culture through radio and television, it had great songs, choreography and dancing, performed at breakneck speed with joy and verve.
On Saturday we slept in and then headed to Greenwich Village. It was a lovely, sunny day, though windy. We strolled along Bleeker Street, lined up at Magnolia Bakery for some yummy delicious cupcakes, and had a late lunch at a funky fish café called Choptank. That night we saw another show, Time Stands Still, written by David Marguilies and starring the wonderful Laura Linney, the urbane Eric Bogosian, and the pixie-like Christina Ricci. Beautifully written and performed, it’s about two adrenalin-junkie war correspondents and what happens to their relationship after one nearly dies when a car bomb goes off, yet can’t wait to go back, while the other decides he has had enough and is ready for a “comfortable” life. Fabulous.
On Sunday we took the subway all the way to the southern tip of Manhattan to board a helicopter. After more than an hour of waiting in various lines, we got our 15 minute ride around the Statue of Liberty (aka “The Lady”), up the Hudson River and back again. I had been hoping the ride would take us right over the city, but I guess there are laws about that, so we stuck to the waterways. Nonetheless, it was rather exciting to be perilously airborne (yet feeling quite safe) and we got a good view of Manhattan in all its high-rise, metropolitan glory; Empire State Building, Chrysler Building, Ground Zero, Madison Square Garden, Central Park. We also got a birds-eye view of Hoboken, New Jersey and Brooklyn. By the time we got back to the hotel we barely had time to grab something to eat before the airport shuttle arrived to whisk us back to Newark. This journey introduced us to the second most obnoxious person in New York. The shuttle bus driver greeted us by yelling at us for making a double booking (we didn’t) and slammed the doors of the bus in our faces before we had a chance to load in our suitcases. He then proceeded to lean on his horn every few seconds, as apparently he was in a hurry and nobody in New York was moving fast enough for him. I was disinclined to tip him, but Mum’s a softie.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
October update
So it seems this has become a once-a-month blog. Not ideal, not my intention, and not to continue much longer. It's been a very busy few weeks. Mum arrived and has settled into the apartment I vacated at the end of September. As luck would have it, there was a room available that she could rent for the month of October, so she grabbed it. Certainly makes it easier for us to hang out when I'm not working. Between work, classes and rehearsals I don't have much free time these days, and much of what I have I'm devoting to Mum. She has been very intrepid finding her way around LA on the bus and rail system - and can aver that people do in fact use public transport in LA. She has had quite some adventures and met several Characters. She has also figured out what kind of coffee she likes and how to order it here. She's been Downtown, where she was impressed with Union Station, and found Alvarado St where she browsed the Mexican market and bought a nice summery dress. Despite my warnings, she was unprepared - coming from a cold and wet Melbourne winter - for just how hot the weather is here, even in Autumn. Although, last week we had a few cold, wet days just to shake things up a bit! This weekend, we're back to sweltering summer temperatures.
I've moved out of the dark little apartment that was my home for the last 8 months, upstairs into a 3 bedroom apartment with two other girls. There is so much more light up here, and no creaking floorboards above my head. Hallelujiah! Downside is that it certainly gets much hotter, but that's a deal I can handle.
Work has been going well, and I'll be there until at least the end of October. Maternity leave lady had indicated she might be back as soon as the 11th, but has postponed her return until November 1st. I'm kinda hoping she decides to take the next 12 months off work to spend it with her baby son. However, in the meantime, I have applied for another job at the University which sounds interesting and would be part time.
Yesterday Mum and I took a drive up to Santa Barbara, a very cute town populated largely by students attending the university, and wealthy retirees. A friend of mine is living there (for the record, she is neither a student nor wealthy) so it was a good opportunity to catch up while doing some sightseeing. It happened to be the Harbor Festival, with lots of seafood (especially lobsters and crabs) on show. You could buy them, still wriggling and snapping, out of wading pools off the pier, or dine on them from one of the restaurants or temporary stalls. The place was teeming with people (and lobsters), and it was a glorious, sunny day. We took a walk along the beach, which aside from being plagued by sandflies and seaweed washed up on the shore, was beautiful; lined by palm trees, framed by distant mountains, the water was cold and blue and speckled with brightly coloured boats and windsurfers.
I've moved out of the dark little apartment that was my home for the last 8 months, upstairs into a 3 bedroom apartment with two other girls. There is so much more light up here, and no creaking floorboards above my head. Hallelujiah! Downside is that it certainly gets much hotter, but that's a deal I can handle.
Work has been going well, and I'll be there until at least the end of October. Maternity leave lady had indicated she might be back as soon as the 11th, but has postponed her return until November 1st. I'm kinda hoping she decides to take the next 12 months off work to spend it with her baby son. However, in the meantime, I have applied for another job at the University which sounds interesting and would be part time.
Yesterday Mum and I took a drive up to Santa Barbara, a very cute town populated largely by students attending the university, and wealthy retirees. A friend of mine is living there (for the record, she is neither a student nor wealthy) so it was a good opportunity to catch up while doing some sightseeing. It happened to be the Harbor Festival, with lots of seafood (especially lobsters and crabs) on show. You could buy them, still wriggling and snapping, out of wading pools off the pier, or dine on them from one of the restaurants or temporary stalls. The place was teeming with people (and lobsters), and it was a glorious, sunny day. We took a walk along the beach, which aside from being plagued by sandflies and seaweed washed up on the shore, was beautiful; lined by palm trees, framed by distant mountains, the water was cold and blue and speckled with brightly coloured boats and windsurfers.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Ex-squeeze me? Mexican food?
Holy guacamole, it’s September! Ladies and gents, it has been a year since I landed on this crazy town. So let’s take stock: what, pray tell, have I learned and achieved?
1. Produced, performed in, and promoted my own show, which was a resounding success.
2. Successfully navigated the black hole of creepiness that Craigslist can be to find the nuggets of genuine people, and found somewhere to live.
3. Learnt that living with two cats in an apartment with no outside access is a BAD IDEA.
4. Successfully navigated the black hole of creepiness again, and discovered that Melrose Place-style living (complete with swimming pool and sex scandals) really exists.
5. Got my Californian drivers license (on the second attempt - sigh), after facing the fact that 20 years driving experience counts for little when taking the Californian drivers license test. Being able to back up 30 feet in a straight line is considered more important than demonstrating you can reverse park.
6. Got a job (eventually).
7. Got an agent.
8. Auditioned for several commercials (and counting…).
9. Cast in several short films.
10. Wrote for and performed in original sketch comedy show.
11. Discovered that LA drivers are TERRIBLE.
12. Despite daily contact with said terrible drivers, maintained a clean driving record: no traffic violations, no accidents (touch wood).
13. Insurance is HORRIBLY expensive.
14. Wages are PITIFUL (no wonder everyone complains about taxes).
15. The weather is GORGEOUS (but very dry).
16. You have to drink LOTS of water.
17. Lots of water is WASTED in LA (it’s a desert, people, wake up and turn off the hose).
18. Although most coffee is crap, it is possible to find excellent espresso.
19. Americans are really friendly.
20. Americans go weak at the knees in the presence of an Aussie accent.
21. Developed and polished my skills in various classes and workshops.
22. Made some really good friends.
Hmm. Not bad.
I’ve been uber busy at work the last couple of weeks, but sliding into some downtime now before things get busy again next month. In Sport of Acting-related news, we’ve started rehearsing some short plays, all written by the same guy - Jeffrey Addiss - a friend of Vinny’s. The plays each tell very different stories, but all have great characters and are sharply written. Meanwhile, in our regular class, I’m working on a kick-ass monologue from the play “The Last Days of Judas Escariot,” by Stephen Adly Giurgis. If you haven’t encountered this play, go find it, it’s fabulous. I’m working on Saint Monica’s monologue, which is a whopper. I chose it because it’s not obvious casting for me, and it has a high degree of difficulty; when I first read it I loved it but thought “I don’t know how to do this,” at which point it became essential that I tackle it. I love a challenge, and believe that some of my best performances have been in roles that I was daunted by to begin with. Acting challenges make me grow, exploring new territory, making me a better actor. It’s like at the gym, sometimes you need a personal trainer to push you harder than you thought you could go, in order to get fitter and tone muscles you didn’t know you had. A tough role in a good play, with the right director, can be like a personal training session.
To celebrate my LA anniversary, on Friday night Alex and I went out for a drink at the poolside bar on the rooftop of the W Hotel in Hollywood. Swanky! We got there early, so it was pretty chilled out and quiet when we arrived. Heading poolside, we first passed through a lounge area decked out with big booths made from gold leather, nestled into a shiny stage area graced later in the evening with very bored pole dancers (not the naked kind, but nonetheless providing glimpses of panties beneath mini-skirts fluffed out with tutu-style petticoats). Outside, the LA skyline was visible on two sides as dusk settled in. Palm trees and daybeds lined the pool (yes, on the roof), and Hot Young Things milled about taking photos of each other. The guys wore designer shirts and lots of hair product; the girls wore short’n’tight dresses and skyscraper heels.
Mum flew in on the weekend, escaping from Melbourne’s winter blues into the embracing warmth of LA’s autumn sunshine. It’s great to see her and we’re making plans for various activities over the next few weeks.
P.S. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the AFL Grand Final (Friday night, LA time). CARN THE PIES!!!!!!
1. Produced, performed in, and promoted my own show, which was a resounding success.
2. Successfully navigated the black hole of creepiness that Craigslist can be to find the nuggets of genuine people, and found somewhere to live.
3. Learnt that living with two cats in an apartment with no outside access is a BAD IDEA.
4. Successfully navigated the black hole of creepiness again, and discovered that Melrose Place-style living (complete with swimming pool and sex scandals) really exists.
5. Got my Californian drivers license (on the second attempt - sigh), after facing the fact that 20 years driving experience counts for little when taking the Californian drivers license test. Being able to back up 30 feet in a straight line is considered more important than demonstrating you can reverse park.
6. Got a job (eventually).
7. Got an agent.
8. Auditioned for several commercials (and counting…).
9. Cast in several short films.
10. Wrote for and performed in original sketch comedy show.
11. Discovered that LA drivers are TERRIBLE.
12. Despite daily contact with said terrible drivers, maintained a clean driving record: no traffic violations, no accidents (touch wood).
13. Insurance is HORRIBLY expensive.
14. Wages are PITIFUL (no wonder everyone complains about taxes).
15. The weather is GORGEOUS (but very dry).
16. You have to drink LOTS of water.
17. Lots of water is WASTED in LA (it’s a desert, people, wake up and turn off the hose).
18. Although most coffee is crap, it is possible to find excellent espresso.
19. Americans are really friendly.
20. Americans go weak at the knees in the presence of an Aussie accent.
21. Developed and polished my skills in various classes and workshops.
22. Made some really good friends.
Hmm. Not bad.
I’ve been uber busy at work the last couple of weeks, but sliding into some downtime now before things get busy again next month. In Sport of Acting-related news, we’ve started rehearsing some short plays, all written by the same guy - Jeffrey Addiss - a friend of Vinny’s. The plays each tell very different stories, but all have great characters and are sharply written. Meanwhile, in our regular class, I’m working on a kick-ass monologue from the play “The Last Days of Judas Escariot,” by Stephen Adly Giurgis. If you haven’t encountered this play, go find it, it’s fabulous. I’m working on Saint Monica’s monologue, which is a whopper. I chose it because it’s not obvious casting for me, and it has a high degree of difficulty; when I first read it I loved it but thought “I don’t know how to do this,” at which point it became essential that I tackle it. I love a challenge, and believe that some of my best performances have been in roles that I was daunted by to begin with. Acting challenges make me grow, exploring new territory, making me a better actor. It’s like at the gym, sometimes you need a personal trainer to push you harder than you thought you could go, in order to get fitter and tone muscles you didn’t know you had. A tough role in a good play, with the right director, can be like a personal training session.
To celebrate my LA anniversary, on Friday night Alex and I went out for a drink at the poolside bar on the rooftop of the W Hotel in Hollywood. Swanky! We got there early, so it was pretty chilled out and quiet when we arrived. Heading poolside, we first passed through a lounge area decked out with big booths made from gold leather, nestled into a shiny stage area graced later in the evening with very bored pole dancers (not the naked kind, but nonetheless providing glimpses of panties beneath mini-skirts fluffed out with tutu-style petticoats). Outside, the LA skyline was visible on two sides as dusk settled in. Palm trees and daybeds lined the pool (yes, on the roof), and Hot Young Things milled about taking photos of each other. The guys wore designer shirts and lots of hair product; the girls wore short’n’tight dresses and skyscraper heels.
Mum flew in on the weekend, escaping from Melbourne’s winter blues into the embracing warmth of LA’s autumn sunshine. It’s great to see her and we’re making plans for various activities over the next few weeks.
P.S. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the AFL Grand Final (Friday night, LA time). CARN THE PIES!!!!!!
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Less rant, more news
Wow. I just read my last entry. It's pretty feisty. The culmination of a few things that I guess have been simmering for awhile. Anyway, moving along! Can you believe I'm just three weeks away from my one year anniversary in LA? Which happens to coincide with my Mum coming to visit - really looking forward to seeing you, Mum. Maybe it's my recent birthday, maybe the impending anniversary, maybe the growing anticipation of visiting Melbourne in just a couple of months' time, but I'm suddenly homesick. Last night I watched a terrific Aussie film, made in Melbourne, which was released a couple of years ago; Noise. It was critically acclaimed but had a brief run in cinemas and I never saw it on the big screen. It's a tense, quiet, drama about a reluctant cop (played by the very talented Brendan Cowell) suffering tinnitis (a constant ringing in the ears) on the periphery of an investigation into the slaughter of seven people on a train. The Lilydale line. It was excellent; tautly written and beautifully acted. And I got such a kick out of seeing the familiar green and yellow-striped silver train, recognising scenes shot in the city loop, hearing those laconic, lilting Aussie accents.
The latest news is that I'm moving house again. Not far though, just into an apartment upstairs. Hooray! No more creaking floorboards cracking and groaning in the middle of the night as my restless upstairs neighbour walks around in circles just to torture me. Yes, I'm taking it personally. When my sleep is disturbed I'm known to become a little irrational. Even murderous (not that I've ever gone through with it, but I have passed the time, while otherwise prevented from sleeping, in fantasies of jumping repeatedly on his head). So, at the end of September I'm moving out of this dark, noisy little apartment into a lighter, brighter place upstairs sharing with two other girls.
During the week I auditioned for a Chevy commercial. From the brief notes I received about the commercial, it was all about the working people; they wanted "real, interesting faces" and the guys didn't need to shave. Generally when I go in for these auditions, I don my American accent, giving them no reason to think I might be from anywhere else. This time was different. I was ushered into the casting room with two other women, about the same age. One was Asian, the other strawberry blonde. We were lined up in a row facing the camera and then one by one asked a few questions, an on-camera "chat" with the casting director. I was third in line. It transpired that the blonde was French and the Asian was in fact Japanese, and neither had an American accent. It was surely no coincidence that we three foreigners were brought in together. I therefore decided not to hide my natural accent when it was my turn to "chat." I have no idea what any of this had to do with a Chevy Silverado.
The audition was conveniently timed late enough in the afternoon that I was able to go after work. And it was in Santa Monica which then gave me the perfect opportunity to catch up with Frankie, a former IBIS colleague who doesn't have a car and therefore has apparently not ventured far beyond the Santa Monica/Venice ghetto. We shared a drink and shot the breeze, compared dating stories (she declares having completely given up on American men) and remarked on the fact that she has just reached her one-year anniversary in the United States. My how time flies. I miss you, Melbourne.
The latest news is that I'm moving house again. Not far though, just into an apartment upstairs. Hooray! No more creaking floorboards cracking and groaning in the middle of the night as my restless upstairs neighbour walks around in circles just to torture me. Yes, I'm taking it personally. When my sleep is disturbed I'm known to become a little irrational. Even murderous (not that I've ever gone through with it, but I have passed the time, while otherwise prevented from sleeping, in fantasies of jumping repeatedly on his head). So, at the end of September I'm moving out of this dark, noisy little apartment into a lighter, brighter place upstairs sharing with two other girls.
During the week I auditioned for a Chevy commercial. From the brief notes I received about the commercial, it was all about the working people; they wanted "real, interesting faces" and the guys didn't need to shave. Generally when I go in for these auditions, I don my American accent, giving them no reason to think I might be from anywhere else. This time was different. I was ushered into the casting room with two other women, about the same age. One was Asian, the other strawberry blonde. We were lined up in a row facing the camera and then one by one asked a few questions, an on-camera "chat" with the casting director. I was third in line. It transpired that the blonde was French and the Asian was in fact Japanese, and neither had an American accent. It was surely no coincidence that we three foreigners were brought in together. I therefore decided not to hide my natural accent when it was my turn to "chat." I have no idea what any of this had to do with a Chevy Silverado.
The audition was conveniently timed late enough in the afternoon that I was able to go after work. And it was in Santa Monica which then gave me the perfect opportunity to catch up with Frankie, a former IBIS colleague who doesn't have a car and therefore has apparently not ventured far beyond the Santa Monica/Venice ghetto. We shared a drink and shot the breeze, compared dating stories (she declares having completely given up on American men) and remarked on the fact that she has just reached her one-year anniversary in the United States. My how time flies. I miss you, Melbourne.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Date rant
OK, what is it with men in LA? Is it just that most of the ones I meet are actors? I'm sick of actors: flakey, self-absorbed, iPhone-addicted, waiting-for-the-best-offer, bozos! Ugh, I'm so bored with shop-talk, so sick of this inability to commit to anything further in the future than a couple of hours - I'm not talking about marriage, let's start with coffee! Good grief. Maybe I'm being too tough on actors, maybe it's an LA state of mind. Make a date and wait for the "running late" or "sorry, something came up" text message. Traffic is usually blamed; I'm sorry, we're all aware how bad the traffic can be, make allowances for it! Yes, yes, I'm generalising. And, thankfully, I have friends who are not flakey at all (even though most of them are actors). But I need to get this off my chest.
Many people have complained to me about the crappy state of the dating scene in LA. I've been surprised to discover several very attractive, very sweet young women who have resorted to online dating. And while I've been asked out on more dates here than a year in Melbourne, they've gone nowhere (in one case, because it turned out the guy had a girlfriend - cue eye-rolling and the obvious questions) or been cancelled before they took place. Hence, I declaim: what is it with men in LA? Grow some balls, guys. Not all the women here are superficial, money-grasping, fake-tanned, fake-boobed, botoxed predators. Some of us are worth getting to know. Some of us will enrich your life, if you'll just let us in.
Many people have complained to me about the crappy state of the dating scene in LA. I've been surprised to discover several very attractive, very sweet young women who have resorted to online dating. And while I've been asked out on more dates here than a year in Melbourne, they've gone nowhere (in one case, because it turned out the guy had a girlfriend - cue eye-rolling and the obvious questions) or been cancelled before they took place. Hence, I declaim: what is it with men in LA? Grow some balls, guys. Not all the women here are superficial, money-grasping, fake-tanned, fake-boobed, botoxed predators. Some of us are worth getting to know. Some of us will enrich your life, if you'll just let us in.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Birthdaze
I’ve been considering what the theme of the last couple of weeks has been. My impulse is to say sexual frustration but then I recall that my parents read this blog and that might be awkward. What about birthday anticipation? Yes, perhaps that’s more accurate. I believe birthdays are something to be celebrated; I mean, you either embrace it or you get hung up on numbers and time ticking ever onward (ever more speedily) and all the things you wish you’d done or wish you had, and soon enough you’re in a complete funk about the whole thing. Boo hoo! Well, how lovely that I now have some awesome friends in LA to help me celebrate, and I’ve still got awesome friends in Melbourne and Paris helping me celebrate long-distance – with the bonus of different time zones extending the warm fuzzies – congratulations from three continents!
Work has been busy the last couple of weeks and I’ve got some acting projects on the boil. For a start, we’ve begun a class project at Sport of Acting, rehearsing some short plays (all written by the same author – not me) under the guidance of some director friends of Vinny’s. The plays are very well-written, delightful little numbers with some great characters so this is shaping up as a fun project. I’ve also approached a couple of directors (including Beaten Hearts’ Cindy) about helming a short film from one of my plays. On the weekend I met with a girl who cast me in a TV project at USC earlier this year. She has since graduated and is looking to take the next step in her career as a writer/director. We had a great chat and she took away some scripts to read. Hopefully, she’ll like one of them enough to come on board.
In other news I’ve invested in some personal training sessions, to ensure an extra hard workout once a week now that, as a working woman, I’m unable to get to the gym as often as I did when unemployed. The PT sessions (three so far) have been awesome butt-kicking workouts with the added bonus of a hot, flirty trainer (well, aren’t they all!). In fact, he went so far as to ask me out but then cancelled. Twice. I mean, really, what was all that about? Just as well he’s such a good trainer. So the flirting continues, safe in the knowledge it ain’t going anywhere. I’m still getting along to a step class once a week, which is fun. Although I do miss Nada and Sophie’s classes at Genesis, Prahran, which were faster and the choreography changed more frequently. We do the same thing every week at Bally, with the same music. Every now and then she’ll throw in a new sequence, but more often than not, she’ll resurrect an old sequence that we did ad nauseum two months ago. But I think this is what the other regulars like about the class; most of them are over 50 and have been regulars for 15 years. They like doing what they’ve always done, are comforted by the familiarity. Bless them.
Enjoyed some impromptu birthday business last night (the evening of the 17th in LA) when acting class was cancelled, suddenly freeing up the whole evening. A few classmates joined me at my local bar where we had a jolly time with laughs, beer, prosecco, calamari and profiteroles. More drinks planned for this weekend – oh dear, we Aussies do equate celebrating with drinking, don’t we?
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| Fabulous hamper from BB, Tiff and Lee - thanks ladies! |
Work has been busy the last couple of weeks and I’ve got some acting projects on the boil. For a start, we’ve begun a class project at Sport of Acting, rehearsing some short plays (all written by the same author – not me) under the guidance of some director friends of Vinny’s. The plays are very well-written, delightful little numbers with some great characters so this is shaping up as a fun project. I’ve also approached a couple of directors (including Beaten Hearts’ Cindy) about helming a short film from one of my plays. On the weekend I met with a girl who cast me in a TV project at USC earlier this year. She has since graduated and is looking to take the next step in her career as a writer/director. We had a great chat and she took away some scripts to read. Hopefully, she’ll like one of them enough to come on board.
In other news I’ve invested in some personal training sessions, to ensure an extra hard workout once a week now that, as a working woman, I’m unable to get to the gym as often as I did when unemployed. The PT sessions (three so far) have been awesome butt-kicking workouts with the added bonus of a hot, flirty trainer (well, aren’t they all!). In fact, he went so far as to ask me out but then cancelled. Twice. I mean, really, what was all that about? Just as well he’s such a good trainer. So the flirting continues, safe in the knowledge it ain’t going anywhere. I’m still getting along to a step class once a week, which is fun. Although I do miss Nada and Sophie’s classes at Genesis, Prahran, which were faster and the choreography changed more frequently. We do the same thing every week at Bally, with the same music. Every now and then she’ll throw in a new sequence, but more often than not, she’ll resurrect an old sequence that we did ad nauseum two months ago. But I think this is what the other regulars like about the class; most of them are over 50 and have been regulars for 15 years. They like doing what they’ve always done, are comforted by the familiarity. Bless them.
Enjoyed some impromptu birthday business last night (the evening of the 17th in LA) when acting class was cancelled, suddenly freeing up the whole evening. A few classmates joined me at my local bar where we had a jolly time with laughs, beer, prosecco, calamari and profiteroles. More drinks planned for this weekend – oh dear, we Aussies do equate celebrating with drinking, don’t we?
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| L to R: Alex, Summer, CC |
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| Flanked by James and Mark |
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