Sunday, February 21, 2010

Le projet de chapeau

Sounds kinda fancy, huh? It's my hat project. This is when I tell men wearing interesting hats that I'm doing an art project and need to borrow their hats, wear them and take a picture.

It started innocently one night at a bar. A cute guy was sitting by himself with his motorcycle helmut on the bar. I thought a good conversation starter was to ask him if I could try it on. My friend took a picture. Voila! The hat project was born.

Next up was guy wearing a black fedora. Score #2.

I can never resist a trashy trucker hat. #3.

Had to have a beret in the mix. #4.

There are a lot of fedoras in Los Angeles. So the project took a little hiatus. Until I met the Canadian creator of the Pook hat. It's basically a wool hat with socks sewn on. You can style it anyway you please. It was in the Grammy swag bag. And I actually got to keep one. #5.

Now I'm lying in wait for the next hat (or good looking guy wearing one) for the next installment. And trying to figure out how to upload pix to blogspot. It's art!

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Extra! Extra!

One thing to cross off my list: being in a movie.

I've lived in Hollywood for 2 years. Driving past the studios was the closest I got to doing anything Hollywood-y (other than interviewing to be Cojo's assistant at Entertainment Tonight but that's a pre-Funemployment story for another day).

So I jumped at the chance to be an extra in a movie. I mean I was awesome in my 8th grade French play as Cendrillon (Cinderella). And in that I had to speak French.

Well, I clearly lost my skillz in 9th grade. Instead of acting, I was a total voyeur...watching everyone around me like I was watching a play. Except I was in it. 1 of only 2 extras. Almost a supporting role really.

Well, it's everything you've do (watch in my case) the same thing over and over. The lights are hot. It's not as action packed as you would hope. Except it is exciting. Because there is a hope that you may be in a frame of the final movie. And you watched it all happen. Like a movie!

So if you could have any random opportunity dropped in your lap, what would it be?

Saturday, February 13, 2010

The "Smug Workers"

Remember "smug-marrieds"? Bridget Jones' married friends that always pitied her and felt superior to her for being a singleton? Well, I've got "smug workers."

These are the people that feel bad for me because I'm funemployed and couldn't possibly understand how I could enjoy this time in my life. I must be lazy. Off my rocker. Outright lying. Nope. Wrong, wrong and wrong.

But I get it. If you're working 40+ hours per week doing the job of 2+ people, you've got to tell yourself that it's better than being funemployed. Life would end on layoff day. I thought that. I panicked and thought I'd fall into a deep depression. I also thought that not having work would be like losing my soulmate. Not so much.

Of course, I don't have a family. No one is depending on me for income. I have a lot more flexibility and can be nimble in how I make money. I can't survive on unemployment alone. But my mind's wheels are constantly turning (there are now ads on this page!).

Soooooo, no need to pity me. Don't think that working status defines me. Don't deny or undermine my happiness. And, smugness is like smog: polluting and unattractive.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Absinthe in the afternoon

I'd never had absinthe. I'd heard about it. Been meaning to try it. But never was in the right place. One afternoon, I saw it on the menu and thought, why not? (And call off the intervention, I wasn't alone.)

If I'd been working, I never would have been at that bar. I clearly wouldn't have been drinking absinthe. And wouldn't have really had my epiphany.

While swirling from the booze, I felt happy and free. Workers, note that I'm not lazy (or a drunk). I'm actually an overachiever. But when asked about working, I'd always say that I hated it. And then it hit me: I don't hate working, I've just hated my jobs. No matter where I worked, I was always miserable. I just thought that I was overworked (completely true.) Instead of realizing that I just didn't like it. I got caught up in hearing that I was good at my job, so I'd never considered making a change. Until an afternoon in a bar.

Sooooooooooo, what do I love to do? How can I monetize it? Can I make a change? I've got nothing to lose, except misery. My mind was churning, brainstorming. This wasn't the hard part (see ephiphany--only took 13 years to realize).

If I wasn't tipsy from the absinthe, I sure was now. Drunk with possibility.