Stands With A Fist--Full Of Dollars?

Right now, I'm elbow-deep in cover letters, postcards, and firmly handling a few annoying situations all the while RENT looms in the next four days (I'm not talking the hit musical, either) and I'm about HALF short with bills on top. Shitters. Yet, I am determined NOT to go back to waitressing--did it through high school, college, and half of last year. I've paid my 'dues' in retail too. And while I can sell a pregnancy pillow to an 80-year-old man, NO. I've done other peoples' laundry, sewed their breaks, cleaned up their crap, rubbed their shoulders, changed all the diapers I want to, and I don't want to go back to any of that.  Especially diapers. I think one child is enough. Non-sequitur, sorry, but a realization of late. When she hits college I'm selling all my worldly possessions and traveling like a gypsy. Ecuador, Belize, Prague, Scotland, Paris, and Rome...but if nothing else...Mexico. I'm dying to escape over the border. A bikini (or not), a beach, and a man...to appreciate them both, yeah? And...escapist tangent, sorry.

Anyway--back to my point--SOOOO done with feeling like a doormat. Standards have risen--treat me well or go to hell--how's that for a rhyme? God--THREE different situations this weekend where I had to take a stand and say, Nope--that doesn't work for me. In three different ways, emanating on varying levels of irritation from mild to downright pissed off. The one who downright pissed me off I have officially kicked OUT of my life. As in, dropped him as a client, bounced his emails, deleted him from my myspace page, and blocked his calls and texts. Done. Out. As one of my Ex-Marine clients told me recently, "I think you missed your calling as a drill sargeant. Are you suuuure you won't consider a military career?" And I don't even make her do push-ups! Maybe my fuse is just shorter this week.

Ironically, 5 minutes ago, I just gave my daughter a Time-Out for whining. My tolerance levels for whining, moodiness, sleazeball behavior, and pettiness are rapidly decreasing. I deal with so many peoples' crap every single day. Dammit--I'm desperate for a massage and a vacation. I've got a kink in my neck and a growing caffeine deficiency as we speak. But I can afford a vacation right now about as much as a hole in the head--so I'm dropping my chin to the grindstone--determined to GET THIS stuff mailed out--and make some phone calls to magazines next week asking if they take on new freelance writers too...

Research update: checking out agencies' client lists on IMDb--seeing what the women look like--do they look like me--what level are they working at--who have they been with in the past--how many have gotten out recently? Also peeking at other actors' websites--stealing marketing ideas, noting which agencies they're with, if their websites look sleek, who did them, resume formatting, etc... And I'm still researching photographers. Now, if I could keep that all in my head....nope. The minute the screen goes dark--so does my brain. Right into sleep mode.

As for photographers, I'm pretty sure I'm going with David Muller--check out his site if you want--but I'm interviewing a few others and checking out their 'shooting space' in the coming weeks. So, if you're in the market for headshots feel free to comment if you have any leads or want any info that I've gleaned. Happy to share. (Just--ask politely--or I might make you drop and give me 20.)

Alright--my daughter is out of Time Out and I need a short walk. And a cup of joe.

--Eve White