Saturday, December 24, 2005

Mommy and Me in Club 33! Aww...

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It's snowing! It's snowing... soap?

Who knew Christmas time could be so clean? When's the hot wax? Posted by Picasa

That is one bright tree.

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That way... Fa la la la la la la la la...

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Can you guess where this picture was taken?

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Happy Holidays. It's what Jesus would say.

You know, for the past several years, it really hasn't felt like Christmas to me. This year is no exception. Maybe it's the fact that I'm working, or that I'm only going to be able to see my family for a few hours, really. I don't know. It's not horrible though. Sometimes these things happen. Next year's Christmas will be better. But for now, I'll just enjoy what I have.
Working on Christmas eve at the Scottish place isn't so bad. It's decorated, there are carrolers. Usually I get to eat, and it's Secret Santa day, so I'll get presents. At least we're closed Christmas Day. I gave my Secret Santa gift, yesterday, as my person won't be working tonight. She really liked it. I stayed up until 7:30am, yesterday, stitching a string of fake pearls to her stocking. It turned out really well, I should've taken a picture. I really like being crafty. I can't cook, but I sure can stitch up something sparkly! Some day, I'll have skinny, sparkly kids covered in felt. Maybe.
The title of this post is in reference to the faux controversy of "Merry Christmas" vs. Any other greeting. I personally believe it is a made-up ordeal, implemented by the news channels and designed to keep us distracted from more pressing matters, like corruption and homelessness and a bad economy. When the country is in conflict beyond your control, the time has come to turn on each other.
Because that's what it boils down to. When we say "Merry Christmas", it's supposed to be a happy thing. But when there is a group of people insisting that all that should be said is "Merry Christmas", it becomes excluding and totally misses the point of the season. All the times I've bought Christmas cards, they've said things like "Seasons Greetings" or "Happy Holidays", and no one ever complained to me when they received one. I always thought those phrases were pretty, and if other people didn't buy them, the card companies would stop printing them.
Many of my guests, when they leave, don't just wish me "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays" (wishing someone "Season's Greetings" vocally just doesn't sound natural, so it doesn't happen), they wish it to me with emphasis. Other servers who wish their tables "Happy Holidays" have been corrected by theirs. It's all just silly to me.
Considering that some people celebrate Hanukkah, Ramadan (I think. Does it fall around this time, this year?) and we all celebrate New Years, what's wrong with saying "Happy Holidays"? Some people would point out that that is exactly what's wrong. To them, I say you are selfish and are heading in a direction I do not agree with. Again, I say you are missing the point of the season, which is to love your fellow man. That's what Jesus would want (as far as I can guess). It's what God would want, anyway. He did have Moses carve in stone "Love thy neighbor", after all. And besides, some Christians also celebrate other holidays around this time, such as Epiphany, so saying "Happy Holidays" should be entirely appropriate.
So, as I go out to join the work force, tonight, I would like to remind you to drive safe. Tip your waitresses (generously). Be polite to those who may not agree with you. And be extra kind to those who have to work, tomorrow, who otherwise would not. Especially if you take advantage of their services.
Season's greetings.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Tears for Fears

When I first moved to the Los Angeles area, my goal was to become an actor. It still is, even though it has been pushed aside numerous times. I went to an acting conservatory where I did learn a lot, even though I hated the experience. One thing I wanted to learn to do was cry, as I'd never been able to do it on stage (nor had I ever really had the opportunity to on stage, by that point). It's a goal I think a lot of actors starting out try to accomplish. It's not really spoken, but crying seems to mean that you're a good actor. One thing's for sure, trying to cry in a scene and not being able to accomplish it looks really crappy, unless you're playing a crappy actor or a character who is not fooling anyone in the scene with you.
Often times at the conservatory, I was that crappy actor. It seemed my teachers also seemed to think that an actor was only good if they could cry, as all my scenes had me crying in them, even if it wasn't called for in the scene. Every time, I couldn't cry. One teacher, for about half the length of the class, had me scream at nothing and bang my fists against the walls until tears started streaming down my cheecks. Then he told me to "use that" for the scene. Seeing as how I was raging at nothing, I incorporated nothing into the scene. Thus, I couldn't cry during the scene, still.
I've had two different teachers tell me it was going to be their goal to break me open or set me free, or something along those lines. As nice as their intentions were, I'm sure, I was never around long enough to be broken or freed. I think, though, as far as I'm concerned, anyway, that something like that could happen in a class. For me, the results of my life thus far have always contributed to what I put out in my performances. I'm not sure if it's method acting, but I think every actor plays a part based on how they can relate to that part.
Of the few roles given to me, out here most have dealt with anger or fear. Up until recently, I'd never really harvested any anger or fear. But in the almost seven years I've lived on my own, I have known both, very well. Now, I think I could play those roles quite well. Now I have more to put in.
I'm worried about my Dad. His place of employment is basically cancelling out his job, and he's afraid of what could happen and where he would go after that. According to my Mom, he's being snippy and holding a lot of things in, which is how he was acting when he had his heart attack. To be honest, I'm worried about both of them. It's one of the two main reasons I'm moving back in with them. I know bad things aren't my fault, but I just get this feeling my parents are giving up. I'm to used to seeing them thrive or fight to thrive. But they've been smacked with more stuff than they expected to get smacked with at this point in their lives. The same thing has happened to me, but to be fair (and no offense to them), I can blame my stuff on youthful ignorance.
I think the thing that bothers me most is they are treating their lives as if they're almost over. Their theory is, "We're old, now. We can't do anything new." But if you ask someone in their presence about a senior citizens discount, and they scoff as though they barely qualify. It's a syndrome my parents deemed our old dog, Shorty, had that they called "selective senility". Or maybe that was Granpa. Ah well.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

This photo isn't totally current. I took it this spring, but I really like the color.
Work has not been as good as it was in October, but it's not terrible. I'm used to being poor, now. It's not for too much longer, anyway. My lease is up in 107 more days, and I only plan on working at the scottish place until the week of Valentine's Day. So, even if I work six days a week until then, at the very most I'll only be there for 84 more days. That's really not so terrible. And Christmas falls on a Sunday this year, and that's the only day of the year we're closed, so that's only 12 more brunches at most! And I'm going to be trained for dinners, this week. So good times are comming (and I can save for the move to my parents'!).
Through all of the crap, I still like working at the scottish place. But after what happened in the spring, it really hit me that I'm making no progress, whatsoever. And if I continue down this path for any amount of time, I'll probably still be right where I am, now: not getting ahead, not working towards my goals and not being happy.
I am unfortunately driven by money. I think there are only two ways you can't be driven by money. The first one is, you have so much money, you'll never be troubled by anything except matters of the heart. The other way is if you live in a society that isn't ruled by materialism. Seeing as how I do not live, nor intend to live (as far as I know) in a society that has no need for materialism, my goal is to become the former.
And I know it's tacky, and I know it's cliche, but I'm thinking about going into real estate. You know, right when the boom is ending.
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Saturday, October 29, 2005

Here's another picture of me, in all my freckally cuteness. Maybe next year I'll be the redhead from Pirates of the Carribbean. For those who don't know who I'm supposed to be, I'm Strawberry Shortcake. She's making a comeback, but she was really big in the 80's. Of course, my version is more along the lines of Miss Shortcake falling on hard times and having to resort to stripping.
Hmm... When my hair's long enough, I think I'll try to get it cut this way.
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All dressed up, and...

Okay, I was going to a party, tonight. I spent hours getting adorable. I put on a wig, fake eyelashes and fake boobs (don't they look great?). I drove to a scary area of Los Angeles called Lincoln Heights. I walked up this dude's incredibly steep driveway and braved his pitbulls, only to be told by his roommate that the party had been called off and he wasn't even there.
I was thinking about doing something else, tonight. I called a couple of friends, but got their voicemails. But I don't have any money on me right now. And seeing as how I'd be the only one I knew wherever I'd be, I decided to go home and save my ravishing beauty for Monday.
Fortunately, one of my neighbors was around, and she took my picture. Many of my neighbors have also seen me in my costume, and all agreed I look extremely cute. So I had to post my pictures on my blog so the world may see that, yes, I clean up real well.
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Thursday, October 27, 2005

Not delusions of grandeure. Just a little fidgetty.

I want to act. I want to perform with every fiber of my being. I think I'll buy a Backstage West tomorrow and see if I can go to an audition. Being on stage would feel good. I know I'll have more time (and money) to work on my carreer, next year. But I'm here now, why not do something while I still have most of my nights free? It would feel good to act, again. I'm not in SAG or AFTRA or Equity, I'm not rich, I'm not taking classes and I'm not the most gorgeous thing in the world. But I have the drive, and I've had to stifle it for so long. I hate the politics and crap that you can find when auditioning, but I bet there's a show out there that I can be in.
By golly, by gum! Let's put on a show!
Okay, I'm going to bed, now.

Friday, October 14, 2005

Still growing up

Well, if anything, I'm learning.
Life isn't too bad. In fact, it's rather exciting at the moment. See, a whole bunch of stuff has been going on. Lemme splain.
In July, I got a second job (a second full-time job, I might add) at a healthy grocery store. Many of my workdays were 18 hours long. While I was getting $500 paychecks every other week, it was still only $9 an hour. I was staying afloat, but I still wasn't getting ahead.
So, this week I quit my job at the healthy grocery store and got a job at a night club at the nearest theme park. My grocery manager yelled at me and told me that my quitting was what is wrong with "this generation today". He also told me he refused to accept my resignation, which stunned me a little bit.
"Well," I said, "I'm still resigning, today. And I've brought all of my stuff. And today is my last day. And that's just the way it is."
He just looked at me for a moment, and I looked right back at him. Then he exasperatedly said "Fine!" And that was it.
So I got this job at a night club at a them park. Immediately. As in, I went in, filled out an application, and was hired. I thought something was a little weird with that, and my first night of training I found out why. Actually there are a number of reasons. First and foremost, if a table walks out on their bill, the server has to pay for it out of their tips. Turns out this is illegal. According to my good friend, Orphan Jungle, it's about as illegal as making a server pay for a plate they break. Besides that, according to the girl who trained me (after one of my tables last night decided to mess with me by taking the bill of my other table), sometimes the servers steal tips from eachother. Now, it's one thing to not trust the guests, in my oppinion. But if you can't trust your coworkers, what's the point? So I quit that job, today.
So I now have one job, again. What does this mean for me? Well, for one thing, I'm going to be able to get more sleep. What this will mean for me, financially is up in the air. I may have to get a(nother) second job. But the holiday season is the good money season for my job at the Scottish Place, be it lunch or dinner. My managers are telling me they're willing to retrain me for dinners. So we'll see.
As for now, I'm going to bed.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Good news!

My phone didn't get shut off. And my power's not getting shut off, either. I don't think I mentioned that that was in jeopardy, but it doesn't matter.
Things are starting to get better. I paid 8 bills on Saturday. I intend to pay about 3 or 4 more before I save up for rent. I find it's easier to make sure I have enough to cover rent (without over-drawing my account) and then pay bills, rather than vice-versa. It has to be that way, because the tips I'm getting right now are so incredibly huge, right now (sarcasm). As of today, I've made $387.00 in tips in 8 days of work. That is so crappy, I cannot begin to tell you. That's $48.37 a shift. Sure, you're doing the math and saying " Well that means you're making $18.84 an hour". Mm-hmm. Yeah. Sounds nice on blog. Still poor. It's only a 4-hour shift. That's only $75.36 a shift, before taxes.
It will get better. It really will. Soon, the harrassing calls from my credit card company will stop (I'm up to 3 a day). I will have paid things off, I won't have to work two jobs, I'll be able to put money into the bank, and-- dare I dream it-- I'll be able to work on my acting career, again!
Yeah, that whole reason I moved out here? That dream.

Friday, September 2, 2005

Guess what? I'm still poor!

This is just a notice to all you loyal readers to let you know that my phone may be disconnected, and thus my DSL. This could mean no Pretty McSomethin for a while. How long, exactly, I'm not sure. Those reconnection fees can be icky. But hopefully not too long.
Take care, loyal readers.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Love Past

By thy side I should be
And not here among the sad
They should know someone like you
To bring them hope when they are at their lowest
As I am now

Thinking of you now
I can almost feel your breath upon my cheek
Your hand in mine
And if I close my eyes but for a moment
You whisper a sweet secret in my ear
That only we will know

I speak of what I don't know
But what I thought I once had
Silly girl, I chide myself
Probably to become a silly woman
And then, finally, a silly crone
My insecurities know no bounds

And yet, the thought of you
The memory of you
Of what we had, of what there was
Makes me brighten
For, though I know you have moved on
I realize it was my belief in you
That made me strong

Sad though that may sound
It does give me strength
Whether we meet again or not
Whether you love me still or no
You will always be here with me
And that, my darling, makes all the difference in the world.

Monday, August 1, 2005

Okay, but I could always burn down the building...

Today, I could've been fired, quite easily. You see, I set a trash can on fire at work in the kitchen. Oh, I put it out, of course. Man, it was funny.
So I'm at brunch at the Scottish Place, and we're all really bored because no one's there. A few of us are in the kitchen, and one girl (we'll call her "Platinum Tiki" to hide her true identity) was holding one of those really thin long birthday candles. A guest had left a pack of them from the night before, only this one was bent in a few places.
Now, I don't know why the hell I did this.
"Hey, P.T." I said. "I bet I can light that candle from the middle." And I pulled out my lighter.
"Okay." Said P.T., and she gave me the candle.
I was, in fact, able to light it from the middle. However, the wax started dripping on my finger and burned, so Platinum took the candle back from me. The flame grew bigger, and we giggled, and then I realized where she was holding it.
"Hey, P.T." I said, "You better move that over to the sink and away from the trash can."
Either she wasn't paying attention, or Platinum was in shock from how high the flame was growing in her hand. She just stood there holding the candle over the receipt-filled trash can, gigling uncontrollably.
"W-w-what?" She laughed.
"Move the candle." I laughed back. Of course, I must've been in shock, too. I wasn't doing anything, either.
"What do you mean?" P.T. giggled.
"Fire, paper-- bad!" I said. I was kind of worried, now. Some of the other people in the kitchen were watching us, now.
Then it happened. Part of the long candle, the part with the flame on it, fell right into the trash can. The top was hidden by a hole in the counter, but a nice orange glow was eminating from it.
"Oh, good god damn, Plat!" I said. I looked around for a container.
"Oh my god!" She said. We both stopped laughing for a moment.
"The trash can's on fire!" I said, as I have a knack for stating the obvious. The first container I saw was a cappuccino cup. I filled it with water from the sink next to me, pulled out the trash can, and dumped the water in. It put the fire out, but there were still some glowing papers, so I dumped one more cup-full in. That did it.
Someone was smart enough to suggest that I take out that trash bag and replace it. Not even considering evidence at the time, I thout that was a great idea, and did it, immediately. Our expeditor came into the kitchen and asked what the smell was. One of the waitresses (we'll call her "Funniest Woman Ever") told him that P.T. and I had set the trash can on fire, and said it had been the best part of her day. I made a joke about having repressed anger with the Scottish Place.
"Repressed?" Funniest asked. "I'd say that was anger busting right out."
After I came in from taking out the trash, P.T. and I glanced at each other and just laughed. What else could we do?

Monday, July 18, 2005

Waiting to get into Disneyland for it's 50th birthday, 7/17/05. Posted by Picasa
Still waiting to get in. Posted by Picasa
Um, still waiting... Posted by Picasa
Hotel stayers waiting to get in. Posted by Picasa
Almost through the gate! Posted by Picasa
So much gold... Hey, is that Sleeping Beauty and her man? Posted by Picasa
Behold, the complimentary birthday cupcake! Ooh, such heavy frosting... You can't tell in this photo, but there were gold sparklies all over the thing. Posted by Picasa
Getting ready to take the class photo down Main Street. Posted by Picasa
Diane Disney-Miller at the 50th anniversary ceremony. Boy, does she look like her dad. Except more feminine and minus the mustache. Posted by Picasa
Oooh... Posted by Picasa