Like silly putty.

Mmph. Post Fringe hangover. Pissing pissing with rain, not helpful. But a bit cozy, to be honest. Though I have to go out in it. Remember last week when I had my first ever commercial audition? Did I mention it? No? Well, I did. Two of them in a row, matter of fact. Anyway, the first one has garnered a callback, so that is great. I wanna book it. Bad. Mama needs the dosh, you see. So that's today. Oddly, they're calling me back for two roles other than the one I originally auditioned for. I think that's a good sign. The casting director gave really good feedback to my agent, so that's good, too, cause it means she'll want to see me again for things. My horoscope has been saying (loosely translated from the flaky) that I should prepare for all the things to happen that I have always wanted, but that if I don't remain calm and do the work and instead get too excited I will never be able to reap the rewards. Which is exactly what I thought. So I am doing my best. Does writing about things in your blog count as getting overexcited? Maybe just this once it's ok. I scratch my head. Breathing seems to be very helpful, pretty much all day every day. Have you noticed that?

Did you hear that Fashion Week in Spain has been thrown into chaos because the local government pressured the organizers into banning any models that are too skinny from the runways? Excellent. Ha! They even put a number on it, saying no girls with a body mass index below 18.5. The BMI isn't the best way of measuring, but it's a start. Maybe everyone has finally had to see too many pictures of war torn and starving people and realized that that's what we're asking our women to look like. Ich. Let us be pink and round!


No comments: