1.30.2008

though this is theraputic, I'm not sure it's going to cut the mustard

That tiny baby shat alllll the way up his backside, soaking through multiple layers of clothing and luckily when he was wearing a onesie that only lifted up over his head (gives new meaning to the term poopy- head), and luckily while we were at the community centre and without a tub to just dunk him into. There was shit everywhere!!!
Then that small girl bit me. Hard enough that I still have marks!

And I'm still in a good mood.

Something's wrong with me, life feels pretty great these days.
And I love those kids that I look after. Even when they are being tiny terrors. Such terrors. That baby is so good tempered, if he hadn't of been then that would have been hell, but really it was fine. And that girl panicked so badly when she saw my face after being bitten that I almost laughed out loud. And the she weeped when I sent her to her room. And even though she is rude and a bit of pain she's sweet and pretty funny. If you like that sort of thing.
Which I don't.
I don't want kids.
Or, I have to keep telling myself that, at least.

One time she did something that got to me and I could feel my eyes "flash in anger" as they say and she looked at me and said "I don't like your eyes..."
Best reaction.

They've gotten them into a daycare program though, so I won't be needed in the same capacity anymore. Which is good and bad. I don't like getting up early and it cuts into my writing days and my partying nights. But bad because I was just getting into being a neighbourhood parent and chilling out at my favourite centres and cuddling babies for hours... Man that baby is so cuddly. And so active these days. Mostly he just talks and laughs. I can't believe he's four months now.

I really like seeing all the dads bringing the little ones to junior kindergarten.
I've never had any sort of dad (although in grade 1 they made me make a father's day card for my uncle [who I wasn't even close to, WTF?]) and so I sort of consider them nice but unnecessary. Like a bellybutton. You feel sort of strange without one, but you still function normally...

[My friend, D, showed me vacation pictures of her friend who has four nipples and no bellybutton. ALIEN. Also, awesome.]

Well. I don't know if I function normally. Ever. And I do seem to have some issues. To put it mildly.

One of my work friends told me yesterday that I was, quote, "so pimp".

BWAAHAHAHAHAAH

Now, she did not mean, so much, that I have a stable of prostitutes (I don't think), but more that I always have new babes on the go. This is, of course, #1: not entirely true, #2: blown out of proportion as babes are pretty much the only thing we talk about and, #3: hilarious.

You know what my problem is?
There's so many, but specifically, in terms of being such a trainwreck?
I don't know how to differentiate my feelings towards babes. I do not think of the other ways to interact with babes besides wanting to date them and then being together forever (which is a little odd considering it is not something that has ever been in my repertoire. At all. Ever).

I need to realize that:

a) There are babes I just think are funny. That doesn't mean anything beyond that, it doesn't even mean that I should make out with them, necessarily.

b) Sometimes I just want to do it with a babe but this also doesn't mean that I should think that we should date. Sometimes sex and love have nothing to do with each other. Not that I want them to be separate forever... but, you know.

c) Making out is fun and doesn't need to happen ever again. But also then to be careful of everyone's hearts.

d) Just because a boy has a crush on me does not make him a babe-of-life and it doesn't mean that I should try it out when I know it won't work (by which I mean the relationship, not his parts, necessarily). I still operate on the basis of being unattractive (thank-you high-school) and I think that every babe will be the last.

e) I should fucking stop fucking pushing everything. I have no patience.

f) I need therapy.

Seriously. I'm in such a good mood.
Even though place is disgusting, the cookies are stale, I'm totally broke, I'm avoiding things I need to get done, and my ipod is acting very funny.

I've decided though. Next month is the month for an eye exam and new glasses. I'm very, very excited. I'm going to look very, very pretty. In a sexy librarian kind of a way.

YEAH HUH.

Oh, also, I can't shake the feeling that I'm forgetting something or that something's not quite right. I think that everything is probably about to fall apart in a really hardcore way when I'm least expecting it....
But I'm not a pessimist.

1.29.2008

come on hide your lovers underneath the covers

OMG I want to go to sleep so badly right now. My eyes keep closing.
I can't go have a bath like I want to because I would fall asleep in the tub and then inhale water and then choke and DIE.

I love fun auditions. I love them. I wish all auditions were fun. Then being an actor would be so much cooler. And I wish all casting directors were as fun and cool as the one I saw yesterday. She was rad. We bonded a little over how much we both love my agent.
You know what would make me love my agent even more? If he coerced them into giving me that part.

I can think of another part I'd like to get...

ew.

My mum reads this.

Oh, and the guy reading in the audition was a Major Babe. It was distracting. Maybe it was a tactic to see who could keep their focus in the presence of such babeliness. I totally did. Though I did show him some tit on my way out.

JUST JOKES MOTHER GOSH.

I still love improv and I still am not a big fan of status games in improv. This might be because I'm not that into things I'm not the best at. Status is hard though. I wasn't on my A-game last night. I'm cocky and not as funny as I think am. Great qualities!!!!
I remember playing status games all the way back to elementary school. Seems like I might have learnt how to be good at them by now. But, nope!

Went for beers after class (of course). Drank too much (quelle surprise). I blame the teacher, he likes to party almost as much as I do. I feel like I should keep up but I frequently forget just how small I am, or how long ago I ate.
I think I was only mildly inappropriate and obnoxious. Well, mediumly.


Things I Have Learnt Recently:

- if you do not own a watering can, a teapot works well

- places that are not particularly child-friendly are exactly where children want to be

- 4.5 hours of sleep is not enough, no matter how many times I tell myself that

- I will never stop slightly over-cooking those hillary-style soft chocolate cookies. I never believe they are done

- I would rather use a 't' than a 'ed'

- Roseanne got bad pretty quickly after the 2nd season or so. Also, George Clooney was indeed, at one point, a babe

- my heart is not trustworthy and I cannot just decide how to feel about situations/people and make that true


I'm such a romantic trainwreck.
Like I can't even tell you.
Except that you already know, but still.
Luckily it's funny to me these days and not sad like how it is sometimes. The hardest part is being lonely. But I still say the only thing worse than being alone is being with the wrong one.

My bff, C, and I have always put love above all else. Nothing is as important as love, we would give up dreams/plans/ideas/etc just for the possibility of love.
I'm not down with that anymore, I don't think. I'm not scared of ending up alone (that's almost guaranteed!), I'm worried about ending up happily married and creatively barren.
Not to be melodramatic, or anything.
Work is number one. For real though. And if, by some miracle, I end up dating someone, remind me of that. I'll need it.
The weird part is, C's in a real-time relationship right now. That seems to be working.

Gives me hope for my cold, blackened, liar-of-a heart.

1.28.2008

mondays don't feel like mondays if you don't have a proper job


Having auditions in the later afternoon is preferable because then I can stay up until four in the morning, writing. And then I can sleep in and lie around and hit the snooze button about 20 times. (Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure the 680 news weather guy is losing it. Seriously, he is so, so bored of his job. I can tell.)
And then I can have an overly-long bath and then primp and take forever deciding on my outfit (still haven't decided that part yet. Currently sporting just footless tights and a shrunken bright pink angora sweater).

I'm wearing a full face of make-up, and holy jesus, make-up takes so much time to apply and perfect and stuff. I'm never being and everyday wearer.

I lost a contact in my war on drinking (by which I mean I put the contact beside the case instead of in the case and then it dried out, while I was too drunk to function).
I'm on my last pair of contacts. I'm actually going to have to get rich soon. I haven't had new glasses in four years or so and I wear my contacts for far longer than advised.
WHATEVERS.

I'm feeling so lucky these days. I don't know if I'm just feeling thankful for my life, lifestyle, friends, talents, or if I feel like there's something big around the corner. Maybe a bit of both.

When I'm making all the riches I'm also going to buy my mum new glasses. Her eyes are much worse than mine own and she also never gets new glasses.
Being poor is strange.
I'm having to think about it more and dissect it for this show I'm theoretically writing.

I'm a good writer. I'm working on being a good writer, with good work habits. Last night was movie night at Sophia's, I went but refused to watch the movie. I did bring cookies (OMG so good, chocolate with while chocolate chips uh huh huh huh), and I did socialize for a bit. But then I went home to memorize sides and Get Shit Done. Even when the possibility of babes arose, I still held firm to my working.
WOAH.
I'm growing up.

I spent a lot of time yesterday reading articles about My So-Called Life and about Marshall Herskovitz. He said that when they went in to do the commentary for the new DVD bonus features that they were all just crying, they had a hard time talking about it. Aw...
A bunch of new reviews of the show came out recently with the re-release of the DVD set and it's funny what love and devotion that tiny piece of television has. I mean, it only ran for 19 episodes. No one watched it at the time and still people have a hard time categorizing it. ABC just didn't know what to do with it, where to slot it, how to pitch it, even who it was aimed it.
But that's the thing, it's aimed at everyone.
Pre-teens coming into that age, teenagers in the thick of it, parents of teenagers, and anyone who remembers being an adolescent.

Okay. Seriously. Getting dressed. Hopefully.

So excited for improv tonight! No but really!

1.27.2008

love-drunk and kill-crazy

Seriously, I'm going to start orchestrating my friends' break-ups in order to have GFs to party with.

I know it's wintertime and you're cold, but relationships are over-rated and time-consuming.

Went to see Nick's show last night. Tranzac is too small for him these days. Which is awesome and so excellent for him because his music is honestly my very favourite right now. Even if I didn't know him I would seek out his songs and go to see him play.

It was too crowded to listen properly last night, which was annoying. And I was not a fan of the opener. At all. I felt like it was a caricature of folky, country music. It seemed like a joke kind of. A joke that wasn't very funny.
Maybe I just didn't get it.

If you've ever met me you probably know that one of my favourite things is amassing my friends who don't know each other and then trying to make them be friends. Sometimes this does not work at all. I assume that everyone who I like, will like each other. Unfortunately my taste in friends is as varied and eclectic as the housewares section at Value Village (OMG I haven't been to Value Village yet this month and I think I have coupons to use up!).
But last night it really worked. That's always the best. Especially because it was sort of an odd collective. But all lovely, lovely girls with good senses of humour. Which is key.

Talking with my celebrity crush, Morgan Waters, last night I asked him how he gets shows done. (He just gets them done. And then they go on TV. Right on there.) He said he has momentum. He said it's easier to get things done when you're already getting things done.
That makes sense. Then there's no weinering around about whether or not it's possible. You just do it. Because you know you can, you have before.

So I just need to get it all started.
And I need to stop talking about it to everyone all the time. It feels like it helps but I'm not sure that it does. And then I just look like an idiot when I don't actually produce anything.
.
Went to see Grand Analog and Major Maker on Friday. Grand Analog is such a performer, a charmer. He's sort of like that in real life too. In a nice way. I danced extra hard to the song I'm in the video for. Because that's my job.
I'd never heard of Major Maker before, even though it turns out that I know them/know other bands they were in. Funny. So good though. Dancey and fun. Toronto is so small. I went and looked at their music videos and found my friend Shayne is the star of one. Awesome.

I saw a girl whose blog I read there. I know so much about her from the internet. It was strange it see her in real life. I guess that's what happens when you blog as your job.

I'm missing all my kittens.


Things I need a moratorium on:

- Oregon Trail on Facebook
- Drinking (bwahahahaha)
- Those walnut cakes from Korea Town (so wonderfully delicious and cheap)
- Music while I'm trying to write. I get so distracted with trying to find the "right" writing music and I waste about a billion hours


If this were an MP3 blog (I wish it were but I don't want to pay to host songs), today's song would be 97 Men (Don't Call Me Honey) by Buffy Sainte-Marie

Say I'm confused, say I'm perplexed
one fellow told me I was over-sexed
Don't believe it 'cause it just aint true
it's just that I got a little crush on you

Remember 97 men in this here town
would give a half a grand in silver just to follow me down
so appreciate a dedicated baby
'cause boy you are a lucky man

1.25.2008

shallow pie

It's funny, my Pavlovian response to the ringtone I've set to play when my agent calls. I get so excited and glad and nervous.
I hope that feeling never goes away.
He and I had such a nice talk yesterday. He's so great. He just genuinely wants the best for me and likes me, I think. Which is awesome (and somewhat rare, from what I hear) in an agent. He also makes me nervous because I know that he doesn't take shit and doesn't have patience for idiocy. Also great.
Had an audition this morning which was mostly filled with models. I feel strange around models, I can't stop looking at them.
Beauty is so addictive.

.

I feel like the key to good television for me lies in there being a babe that I want to marry on the show. It just makes it so much more enjoyable.
I'm always waiting for the next episode of Quarterlife to see 'Eric'. Holy holy such a babe. I do really like the show and the characters and plots, but what keeps me coming back is babes.

Seriously though. Holy.
.
At some point I'm going to be much deeper person. I hope.
.
Haha, look, that's one of my pictures there!

more?







I did some pick-up shots for the short we filmed in November, this evening. In between takes I bit some of the production stills (which were all very lovely) off of my friend's computer. Here you go!

Tonight I went to a law-school pub night wit M and co. A couple of people recognized me as being "off TV". I'm hoping that at some point, being off tv = getting babes
At some point I will be able to use my celebrity to hook up with cute dudes. No. seriously. How amazing would that be?

This last on is of me and my director (aka: Dad, while we were shooting). I adore him!

[all photos (c) Emily Lockhart 2007, JFYI]

1.24.2008

a little less chatter...

I've just had some really good ideas!
And made some really good plans!

And guess what I'm doing about it.....

NOTHING!

Resisting doing anything productive by wandering up and down and across the internet.....


OKAY. I'm getting at 'er.

1.23.2008

I want to be the type who comes easily to joy

Improv is my favourite. It's my favourite thing. I'm giving up acting and writing and photographing and sewing and singing and everything else.
I only want to do improv.

I started improv class last week at Bad Dog. I've been meaning to take it for years. Pretty much since the end of college because it was probably my favourite class and it was the reason that that last year was bearable for me.
I can't believe it took me so long to get around to it.
Except everything plays out for a reason. I do kind of think that.

It's sort of strange mix in the class, with a bit of a division of, uh... skill level.
I have no patience for people.
That will come as no surprise to anyone.
I'm going to work on it though. Or at least holding down my resentments and keeping my fat, fat mouth shut more often. Though I wish I could just be surrounded with smart people.
I'm glad that my favourites in the class also favour me. I'm pretty excited to keep working with them.


.

Saw a bit of Elliott Brood on Saturday night. Holy hell does that singer ever have a voice. I think I gushed a little over-much at him afterwards, but I couldn't help it (on account of I'm a lush). It's so raw and nice and fills me up in this sort of way like I've just drank green tea that's not too hot and I've sort of gulped it down and it warms all the way down through my systems.
Apparently Cillian Murphy was at the show but I missed him. How bizarre! I love him.
Aw, shit, Kiss of Death. Sorry Cillian.

It's for the best I didn't see him I'm sure. Me + celebrities I have crushes on = awkward situations.

A few weeks ago I was introduced to the main singer babe of my life (who I see frequently) and I believe my response was "Uahhh".
I get the shakes and the blushes. But it's so very much for the best. I love being excited about things or people or events. I think getting worked up about things is so worthwhile. I want to be the type that comes more easily to joy, and also the type that feels excitement. It's an underused emotion.

I used to near shit myself with excitement over concerts, when I was younger. Everything was such a big deal.
I remember back when Treble Charger was good (ie: still mostly fronted by Bill Priddle), going to see them at Louis and climbing onto a railing to see better and quaking all through from how glad I was for their very existence. For how they could make me feel and how I felt it all through.
Fucking Greig Nori is so bad. I want to see Bill Priddle again. He was the one after my own heart, his songs were always the loveliest.

Now I feel mostly excited to see my friends play. I like bands a lot more when I am personally invested in them. It means more.
Drank with one of my favourite musician friends last night. But he's not really producing these days or playing shows.
It's such a hard set up. Art is really hard work. We were walking last night and I said,
"Do you ever just wish you had no interest in the arts? Just in getting a good job and a family and a nice day-to-day life?"

If wishes were horses...

Winter time is hard and I'm dreading February and March and how much they drag at me and even though I've made all these plans and committed to things and started businesses to hopefully carry me through, I'm worried. I never fare well in the post-Christmas wintertime.
And I have so much to do. And so much to be excited about.

1.22.2008

Heath Ledger

Okay.
I'm tired of people dying now.
If JTT offs himself this week, I'll lose it.

Seriously Heath Ledger, seriously?

Breaks my heart.

I saw him on Oprah a couple of years ago talking about Brokeback Moutain and about his new baby. His then-partner, Michelle Williams and the baby were both on and as well and he looked at them (seriously so sweetly) and said "I'm falling deeper in love with both of my girls every day".
I remember thinking that those two had my dream life.

I am only going to like people who are already dead. This is ridiculous.
I hate when people die. It should be reversible. It seems untrue and unfair.

1.21.2008

ooo a production still!


This is from the set of the short, Tearwater Tea. They weren't shooting my legs so I kept my cowboy boots on. I'm just like Marlon Brando. Except instead of no-pants, I just keep my boots on. And instead of getting my lines fed to me through an ear-piece, I mostly learn mine.
Same thing though.

If you get bored whilst serving beer at the Monster Truck Jam you could:

a) Count moustaches
categorising is best for keeping your tallies

b) Count mullets
I don't know if I can count the guy who had shaved the sides of his head but had the rest in a long, multi-tiered pony-tail, but he gets counted for awesomeness alone.

c) Count neck tattoos
Seriously? On your neck?

d) Count tear-away pants
These should make a comeback.

e) Desperately want to be friends with the hipsters who've come in over-the-top white-trash outfits and wigs

f) Hit on a babe who when you I.D. him turns out to be only 19

g) Ask to be sent home every few minutes

h) Ask your partner really awkward questions about her sex life then refuse to divulge any information about your own
[If you even have a sex life. Lucky.]

.

I have to say that I was quite surprised about how many of the white trash stereotypes were proven true today. Although inquiring into a couple of moustaches I learned that they were only acquired today - special for the event.
I wonder if my appreciation of moustaches is going to be long-lasting.
I guess I did really love Magnum P.I. as a child. Though I could never really figure out if I wanted him for a father or for a husband.

Okay, one more list.

PEOPLE I CLAIMED WERE MY FATHER AS A CHILD:

- Fathers of people I've dated
Babes do not find this joke funny

- Spock
(it would explain the ears)

- Captain Kirk

- God
(God IS SO my daddy)

- Magnum P.I.

- The imaginary one I spoke to with frequency for a while there

- All the dads that came to pick up kids from my daycare
They all got called dad, so how was I to know that wasn't their name? Actually I went through a phase where all men were called dad. Once in the supermarket my mum left me for a second and came back to find me shaking my finger at a man doing something I must have disapproved of saying, "No, Dad. Stop. No, Dad!"



Yeah-huh.

1.20.2008

6 reasons why being in a relationship is bad (for me):

1) I do not get any work done.
I would always rather hang with babes instead of writing/photographing/acting/anything really. I always choose babes. And also, no one like gooey, sappy writings. Except maybe me. And other wanker girls.

2) I get whiney.
I do not know what it is about babes really liking me that turns me into a snivelly, sucky baby. I'm like that kid at day-care whose parents have finally arrived, you know what I mean. Well maybe you don't. But still.
It's sick.

3) I do not clean the house
If there is a chance of an impromptu soiree with an exciting babe then there is a bigger chance my house will look even somewhat presentable. Once a babe has seen my place messy then there is no chance of my cleaning it just to impress them.

4) I do not feel like partying
My lifestyle revolves around babes. Partying whilst single is the best because every night is filled with possibilities and options. Unless you live in Saskatoon, in which case you are shit out of luck because the pool there is so small that you already know everything about everyone and everyone is coupled off and if you haven't met that babe already he's probably not worth meeting. Occasionally new people move there though, then you have to jump on them right quick.

5) I do not feel like leaving the house
To do what, exactly?

6) I get so boring it's ungodly
All of a sudden there's nothing else to talk about.


All of my girlfriends are part of couples these days. It's irritating and turns them into such bore-factories.
I'm going to go on Lavalife and pretend to be a cute boy so that I can meet single girls to party all the time with.
I pretty much have one (1) single GF to party with, and she has a whole bunch of kind-of-boyfriends and even one that she talks to every day. But luckily she is a party-and-a-half so it's still okay.
And she gives me drinks.
And she makes me dinner when I forget to eat sometimes. And she holds my hands and she keeps me from falling over while we walk from hip-hop karaoke back to Octapus. And lets me poke my head into pubs that maybe babes I shouldn't see would be at.
I wish I could remember more of the karaoke because I think it was pretty awesome. But I drink too much and knock over all the shoes in the landing and then almost trip onto my head when I go to go for brunch the next day.

I fall in love with my lifestyle every day these days.
It's a nice change.

1.17.2008

sorry

Dear Brad Renfro,

Tashauna had a bigger crush on you than I did in the sixth grade but now I think she has kids and maybe a husband or at least boyfriend and probably a job and never thinks of me or of you. Once I made her a booklet about you but she just thought it was weird. I told her she could have you if I could have JTT. JTT is still alive, so I guess I got the better end of that deal.
I wonder if she heard about you actually.

I remember reading about how when you were younger you'd give fan-girls that you met your hotel number. In case they wanted to come by. Not that their mothers (accompanying them to stalk you) would let them.
I remember reading about how you stole a yacht but except you didn't realize that the owners were actually still on it. Asleep inside. I wish I'd been there.

Ghost World is my favourite movie, and you were perfect in it, just spot on.
And I saw you, unexpectedly, on a repeat of Law and Order, one night. I was surprised by how much I liked you, still. How familiar you seemed. Probably only because of grade six.

We girls all liked your accent. You seemed different to me from the other heartthrobs. Stronger somehow, but also sadder. Lacking parents, and mouthing off, and refusing to be cheesy for interviews on your idea of a great date or what you look for in a girl. Though JTT took up virtually all of my wall (and ceiling) space, I snuck up a few pictures of you.

This business is hard. I wonder if you liked it.

Anyhow. Thank you, I appreciated your work and was always interested in seeing what you'd do next. And, of course, planned on marrying you sometime.
I guess that's not really possible anymore.

Love,

Meredith R. Mistletoe