In less than 12 hours I will be in my first class as a BFA student at the American Musical and Dramatic Academy. Crazy!
Here is my schedule:
MONDAY: Kinetic Anatomy, English Composition
TUESDAY: TV Genre, Cabaret/Broadway
WEDNESDAY: Cabaret/Broadway, Improvisation 5
THURSDAY: Kinetic Anatomy, Cabaret/Broadway
FRIDAY: Greco Roman Theatre
I am once again trying not to freak about money - I have been making so many last-minute trips to this store or that store for things I need that I feel like I need a Xanax before I look at my account. Not thinking about it, not thinking about it...
I took some Excedrin PM tonight to make sure I sleep. Obviously it hasn't kicked in yet. I feel like I'm typing a mile a minute and my brain is going even faster than that. *prays prays prays for sleeeeeeeep*
So today me, Wendy (the first roommate,) and Tara (the second roommate,) went and did some shopping. I am concerned about how Tara is going to fit in with me and Wendy. You see, me and Wendy have spent the better part of two days chillin, sharing music and actually being borderline laconic. We are both just very low-key with weird senses of humor and we enjoy the strange things in life. Her current boyfriend came by wearing a kilt, red and black striped tights, a camo shirt and big gothgod boots yesterday. I get these people.
Tara, on the other hand, is not only five years younger than us, but she is extremely frenetic in terms of energy. She's been buzzing in and out, near to panting as she spins about the room, before she runs back out the door again. Neither of us understand why she is moving in here when she is currently living about 5 minutes away (if that) on Hollywood and Highland, and she has a boyfriend who is begging her to stay there with him. She is a serious name-dropper, a pretty heinous sin, and feels the need to tell us who exactly in Hollywood is a jerk/ass and who is not.
The deal breaker was earlier today when we were picking up a few absolute needs for food and I was perusing the wine. Me and Wendy had been thinking about having a little bit of a housewarming dinner tonight, a cool night with maybe a movie and a nice bottle of wine with dinner. At orientation today the head of the housing department informed us we could not have any drugs or alcohol in our dorms, but even this man said "that being said, if you have a party in your dorm, and we don't know about it, then we can't do anything about it." Translated - "I know you guys are adults and will have parties or some sort of alcohol on campus. Just make sure you don't get caught."
Because seriously, what college do you know of where drinking did Not happen in the dorms? Usually the RAs are the ones dealing the pot and buying the alcohol for the underage.
As I mention it to Tara, she freaks. "You can't do that! They told us not to!" I was dumbfounded. This girl just finished the Musical Theatre program in NY last year. She lived in the Strat, which was the main dorm and teemed with coke, pot and entire floor parties. Was she high? Oh, wait, she certainly wasn't. Because the housing department had told her she couldn't be.
I let it drop for the moment because her reaction was just That violent that I was too surprised to do anything else. I warned Wendy, but she tried anyway and the exact same thing happened.
Here is my beef - I am 26 years old. I am a fully grown adult. If I wish to have a glass of wine at dinner, a shot of tequila or to get absolutely thrashed at the school and residence I am paying for, it is my prerogative. I am in college. It is what people do. I am not an alcoholic by any stretch of the imagination but I do enjoy a drink from time to time and I believe I have the right to have an effin drink if I want one. Wendy feels the same.
This girl is not a child and needs to use her head and relax.
That incident, combined with the rest of the day, made both me and Wendy shellshocked by the time she vanished again. She was a little more relaxed and less hyper when she returned tonight, but we shall see how this flies.
Sadly I have no exciting stories to tell you today. But soon I should - I don't seem to wont for interesting situations around here. Tomorrow the plan is to try Pinkberry for the first time between our classes and I'm pretty psyched about that since everyone raves about it. Hopefully my boxes will be here by tomorrow too, and I will finally have my mattress pad, my power strips, all that good stuff.
Well, I guess I have rambled on long enough. Pills still haven't kicked in but sleep must come. Maybe if I lay down and try to relax my breathing I'll get there. Sleep well all!
Showing posts with label money. Show all posts
Showing posts with label money. Show all posts
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Monday, December 22, 2008
And onto the Madness...
So today has been...a weird day. A lot of thinking going on while I was zoning (basically tearing down boxes for 9 hours at work.) And as many of you know, thinking? On me? Is a bad look.
My brain tends to think a lot - there are many studies that show that the female brain fires much more frequently than the male brain. Ralphie May does an AWESOMELY funny bit on the idea, if you get a chance to see that funny bastard. Anyway, I think that if hypothetically the average female brain fires 50 times in a minute (I'm just picking a number here, I have no idea how many times a freaking brain has a thought,) mine must fire at least 150 times a minute.
I can't stop thinking. Ever. My brain, I've come to decide, hates me and wants me to be miserable. Today, it began it's first official attack on the concept that I was indeed uprooting myself in the middle of a recession to go off and finish my BFA in Los Angeles with enough financial aid loans to keep me in ramen noodles until I'm 500 years old. And then there's the other school loan, but we shall not get into that just yet...
See, I left New York for several reasons. The easiest way to put it and the biggest reason was - New York made me crazy. Granted, I knew I had issues when I left for New York, but I was a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed 18-year-old and that can get you REAL far before you know you are so deep in the mud that you can't breathe. I remember things like literally banging my head into a kitchen cabinet over and over - and that was before I really flew off the deep end.
The bottom line is that I returned from New York so beat up and destroyed on the inside that I had no idea who I was. I'm not even sure anything was left. I have spent the last five years of my life trying to rebuild my insides and let me tell you, I still have a huge, Huge way to go. But the world keeps turning, the sun keeps rising and I have been working on becoming a more stable, confident human being.
When I began my work on putting myself into the professional acting world again, I felt good about it. I still mostly do. And AMDA is definitely a step in the right direction for many reasons - I'll be able to see Los Angeles in a somewhat controlled environment, which I like, because I'm a timid creature by nature and do NOT like jumping into things without any clue of what will happen to me, how I'll survive, etc. I'll be getting the degree I have always wanted - A BFA in Musical Theatre. It may very well improve my GPA to the point that I can once again look into Grad schools. And above all, it may help improve my outlook on myself and my abilities as a person and as a performer.
But today, my brain took the first steps into negative territory and began to second guess. It began to doubt, and worst of all - it began to bring up the past. What if I get it in my head I can make it as a professional actress again? You know how well that went last time. You'll never make it, you know that - it's all about who you know or how pretty you are, and you, Stephanie, are not an attractive chick nor are you good at schmoozing. You have none of that 'it factor' that gets people to like you and want to work with you. Everyone thinks you're a nice enough girl, but you're forgettable. You're lucky if they remember your name a second after you say it.
My voice teacher from New York, Scott, is teaching at AMDA. I talked to him the other day about me coming out there and he thinks LA will be good for me - that it has a slower pace compared to New York, and that it is more laid back. I had to try hard not to contain my laughter at that concept. It seems to me that yes, LA is more laid back than NY. But LA's definition of laid back is big plastic smiles and mock sincerity about "how they'd love to hear more about you and to have your people call their people to do lunch, right after you brighten up that pretty smile of yours with some veneers and lose about 100 pounds, ok?" At least in NY they don't waste your time.
That is just my impression of LA, at least. I may be proved wrong. I may go out there and love it, and finally, FINALLY find my niche. And believe me, I'd love nothing more than that. To finally find that little corner of the performance world where I'm not only successful, but welcomed and comfortable. But, I only have so long to do that...
Which brings me to the money. I hate money. I hate that there has to be such a thing as bartering and consumerism in this world. As of right now, I am trying not to have a panic attack not about my psychological, emotional, even physical future. Right now, I am trying not to panic over the fact that I began working out my budget for LA and realized just how financially fucked I really am.
Even if I cancelled AMDA, the loans I have from OSU are enough to drown a person. Add on AMDA and you get the drift. But it's college, that's what college does. Fucks your credit. It is what it is. Considering the degree I'm going for and my rate of success in my life up to this point, I think I will have the dubious honor of claiming bankruptcy before I'm 30.
It just makes me want to cry, because I look at all the good, truly good people I know in my life who are trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents at the moment and how fucked their credit is. I have decent credit right now. But that is all going to be history in a year and a half. And maybe I'm being stupid, but it made me feel at least a little secure to have that. Over the years, you give up a little more of yourself, a little more of your safety everytime you turn around. "At least my parents are doing ok." "At least I am making $7.00 an hour." "At least I don't have to pay that yet." "At least I'm in school." "At least I'm ok...for now." I don't like not feeling at least neutral about my future. Neutral, fine. Negative? Doesn't really make it easy to look forward to tomorrow, you know?
It becomes scary to wake up every morning. It becomes nerve-wracking to wonder what will happen to you in six months, a year, where you're heading and what will happen to you and those you love. I've seriously had the urge to smoke for the past month and a half, I can almost feel the cigarette between my lips...and I have never smoked a day in my life.
Anyway, I am tired, this has gone on long enough, I had a nice, long talk with some people who know a little better about financial things such as this and I need a hot shower. Walmart is a freezing place to work, yo. If you ever work there, be sure to bundle. Layering is the secret.
And do whatever you can not to wrangle and push carts back into the store in near-negative degree weather. Hide in the bathroom if you have to. Take it from someone who knows.
My brain tends to think a lot - there are many studies that show that the female brain fires much more frequently than the male brain. Ralphie May does an AWESOMELY funny bit on the idea, if you get a chance to see that funny bastard. Anyway, I think that if hypothetically the average female brain fires 50 times in a minute (I'm just picking a number here, I have no idea how many times a freaking brain has a thought,) mine must fire at least 150 times a minute.
I can't stop thinking. Ever. My brain, I've come to decide, hates me and wants me to be miserable. Today, it began it's first official attack on the concept that I was indeed uprooting myself in the middle of a recession to go off and finish my BFA in Los Angeles with enough financial aid loans to keep me in ramen noodles until I'm 500 years old. And then there's the other school loan, but we shall not get into that just yet...
See, I left New York for several reasons. The easiest way to put it and the biggest reason was - New York made me crazy. Granted, I knew I had issues when I left for New York, but I was a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed 18-year-old and that can get you REAL far before you know you are so deep in the mud that you can't breathe. I remember things like literally banging my head into a kitchen cabinet over and over - and that was before I really flew off the deep end.
The bottom line is that I returned from New York so beat up and destroyed on the inside that I had no idea who I was. I'm not even sure anything was left. I have spent the last five years of my life trying to rebuild my insides and let me tell you, I still have a huge, Huge way to go. But the world keeps turning, the sun keeps rising and I have been working on becoming a more stable, confident human being.
When I began my work on putting myself into the professional acting world again, I felt good about it. I still mostly do. And AMDA is definitely a step in the right direction for many reasons - I'll be able to see Los Angeles in a somewhat controlled environment, which I like, because I'm a timid creature by nature and do NOT like jumping into things without any clue of what will happen to me, how I'll survive, etc. I'll be getting the degree I have always wanted - A BFA in Musical Theatre. It may very well improve my GPA to the point that I can once again look into Grad schools. And above all, it may help improve my outlook on myself and my abilities as a person and as a performer.
But today, my brain took the first steps into negative territory and began to second guess. It began to doubt, and worst of all - it began to bring up the past. What if I get it in my head I can make it as a professional actress again? You know how well that went last time. You'll never make it, you know that - it's all about who you know or how pretty you are, and you, Stephanie, are not an attractive chick nor are you good at schmoozing. You have none of that 'it factor' that gets people to like you and want to work with you. Everyone thinks you're a nice enough girl, but you're forgettable. You're lucky if they remember your name a second after you say it.
My voice teacher from New York, Scott, is teaching at AMDA. I talked to him the other day about me coming out there and he thinks LA will be good for me - that it has a slower pace compared to New York, and that it is more laid back. I had to try hard not to contain my laughter at that concept. It seems to me that yes, LA is more laid back than NY. But LA's definition of laid back is big plastic smiles and mock sincerity about "how they'd love to hear more about you and to have your people call their people to do lunch, right after you brighten up that pretty smile of yours with some veneers and lose about 100 pounds, ok?" At least in NY they don't waste your time.
That is just my impression of LA, at least. I may be proved wrong. I may go out there and love it, and finally, FINALLY find my niche. And believe me, I'd love nothing more than that. To finally find that little corner of the performance world where I'm not only successful, but welcomed and comfortable. But, I only have so long to do that...
Which brings me to the money. I hate money. I hate that there has to be such a thing as bartering and consumerism in this world. As of right now, I am trying not to have a panic attack not about my psychological, emotional, even physical future. Right now, I am trying not to panic over the fact that I began working out my budget for LA and realized just how financially fucked I really am.
Even if I cancelled AMDA, the loans I have from OSU are enough to drown a person. Add on AMDA and you get the drift. But it's college, that's what college does. Fucks your credit. It is what it is. Considering the degree I'm going for and my rate of success in my life up to this point, I think I will have the dubious honor of claiming bankruptcy before I'm 30.
It just makes me want to cry, because I look at all the good, truly good people I know in my life who are trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents at the moment and how fucked their credit is. I have decent credit right now. But that is all going to be history in a year and a half. And maybe I'm being stupid, but it made me feel at least a little secure to have that. Over the years, you give up a little more of yourself, a little more of your safety everytime you turn around. "At least my parents are doing ok." "At least I am making $7.00 an hour." "At least I don't have to pay that yet." "At least I'm in school." "At least I'm ok...for now." I don't like not feeling at least neutral about my future. Neutral, fine. Negative? Doesn't really make it easy to look forward to tomorrow, you know?
It becomes scary to wake up every morning. It becomes nerve-wracking to wonder what will happen to you in six months, a year, where you're heading and what will happen to you and those you love. I've seriously had the urge to smoke for the past month and a half, I can almost feel the cigarette between my lips...and I have never smoked a day in my life.
Anyway, I am tired, this has gone on long enough, I had a nice, long talk with some people who know a little better about financial things such as this and I need a hot shower. Walmart is a freezing place to work, yo. If you ever work there, be sure to bundle. Layering is the secret.
And do whatever you can not to wrangle and push carts back into the store in near-negative degree weather. Hide in the bathroom if you have to. Take it from someone who knows.
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