1. I work harder when alone and in motion
2. I don't know my workmates as much as I should like, and I should respect them more
3. All I want is ...... .......
4. I need to learn how to drive
5. I really like my new underwear
We're at the 15 rest stop now.
For those who want more...
After 'Tuesday: GoGo to Los Angeles', Wednesday, Thursday and Friday were full of great meetings with great people, some who I am thoroughly impressed with.
Saturday and Sunday mainly consisted of me feeling exhausted and getting my room in order.
Especially on Sunday, where I went to the Hardware Store 4 times to get the right materials to glue a handle on my closet door and hang my curtains, so I didn't have to feel like a contestant on Big Brother. I thoroughly enjoyed being a homemaker.
This last week was a blur full of frustration as I simply could not get to anything on time, sleep overtook me and conquered me once again. On Thursday the first words out of my mouth, when I realized I had woken up late were, "What is wrong with me!?"
Could it have been that I had watched too much Young Hercules, is it my consistent 2am bedtime? Probably. I just wish I could use the time I had properly and then I wouldn't feel like I had to stay up so late to get everything done.
Things just get so stagnant at the office and I hardly ever find my mind working properly for a full day in the office. I work better from 5pm to 10pm. I can say this because I've been on a bus that long and I've been working consistently throughout, apart from that Blogpost that is.
I will one day have to do something amazing enough that I can run things the way I want, because unless I'm in Los Angeles and being told where to go and when to show up, I'm a hopeless mess.
Great outlook though.
I do know that in 2009 there will be some major changes and people will just have to deal with that. I just need...
Thanks for chatting with me at my 'live show' - you are great
Cheers
xox Caitlin
Monday, 22 December 2008
Friday, 12 December 2008
Tuesday: GoGo to Los Angeles
Thank you so much for all your wonderful and supportive comments, I replied to them all here.
I do hope that you know how I am so impressed by all of you. You're all amazing and truly kind and decent people, and you make me feel (even with all the random flukes and luck that is thrown at me) truly lucky, and incredibly grateful.
I'm not sure this post will be as interesting as last, but I'm trying to see whether I can truly record everything. Life isn't always an interesting blog post, but hopefully you may tune in from time to time to catch up.
Thanks,
Love Caitlin.
***
I had spent most of the night, after the awards ceremony, packing my battered red bag, which I bought with Ben once in San Francisco at Ross - good times, so when my Ikea Alarm Clock started clanging in it's 'I look like an old fashioned clock, but I'm actually brand new, so I'm hip and secretly pathetic, Fight Club' style, it didn't take me long to shake off the little sleep I dived into and prepare for the "Great Journey To The West!"
I wore a long white-sleeved shirt that had been given to me the night before by a lady I have never met. She was a resident artist at the National Arts Club, and she couldn't make the presentation because she was to be in Cambodia at the time, so she sent me the shirt and the sweetest card. It made me feel very special, and the shirt was very beautiful (the word Hope was hand painted in Cambodian).
As I proudly rolled my bag (I had finally packed my bag appropriately!) to the elevator and then out to the street, I was relieved to see that my driver hadn't rushed off without me, he did, however, talk a lot, and he had opinions about everything.
"Don't trust these show business people, they are only ever after one thing, you know? You should find yourself someone who works, you know? A banker, or a lawyer, or, you know, any kind of work, you know? If they are 40 years old (I realized he was probably 40 years old or so), that is better for you, then a 20 year old, you know? They have lived and worked hard..."
I nodded and agreed with him, but I could not wait to get out of the car and escape his long speeches. At some points, he became quite taken with his views against my life and his voice rose to the point of almost yelling. I could imagine him being quite violent at home, or at least very demanding and full of expectations. I felt that the car was Cuba and my driver was Castro. "Why won't you die!?!?"
I still tipped him very well, "Thank you very much, miss, I appreciate it," and happily walked up to the Self-Service stations at the American Airlines section of JFK.
I like American Airlines because they are a part of the One World program, and my silly life has moved my Bronze Qantas Card membership up to a Gold Card and no matter what class I am in, if I get Priority Access, I always feel a little thrill of happiness. I like to appreciate these things, I hope I never forget to appreciate them.
My colleague, who would be traveling with me, wanted to be put on the waiting list for Business Class, but the Self-Service Station could only handle so much confusion, and eventually a lady led me to the Business Class check-in. The lady behind the desk told me the plane was full, it didn't bother me, and then I waited in the makeshift "lobby" for my colleague to arrive and check in.
He was impressed that I was actually on time, and I have to admit, so was I. I have now been through enough close calls and missed planes to arrive at the right time.
We passed easily through Security. I gave the back-of-a-fellow-passengers head the Evil Eye after she pushed my bag along the conveyor belt. I don't actually mind that she touched my stuff, she was just being helpful, but sometimes it's fun to smirk at the fact that I even bothered to move my facial muscles when nobody saw it. I think I like it, because it's totally private. Very rarely does anyone notice. I like that. I like being anonymous.
I bought 2 greasy salted pretzels before I got on the plane, they were very good, but afterward they made me feel awful. I think I must find out exactly what products my body cannot manage, because it gave me the worst stomach ache on the plane. Then again, I really shouldn't be totally surprised that pretzels were a bad choice for breakfast.
The annoying thing about planes though, is that no matter what I eat or don't eat, my stomach always ends up becoming bloated and sore. It makes me wonder if it just can't handle the change in altitude.
Does anyone else suffer from this? It's very annoying.
That's why I would prefer to always journey by car. Sure, I can't drive and the wrong type of car can be particularly bad for the environment, but I want to see what I travel past, I don't want to look over head and squint. It is beautiful though, and the closer you get to the West and its Mountain Ranges, the easier it is to understand how the Tectonic plates work (even though most were most likely exit points for hot lava). The mountains look like cracks in mud that has dried in the sun, and you can easily see how the world will develop from high up. I'm sure it's a marvelous sight from space.
I hadn't let myself look out the window from a plane across America for a long time, because I spent a great deal of time looking outside my window when I first started traveling, and I found the surface of America very dull and dry and baron. Now, after losing my ignorance, I thoroughly enjoy watching the plains pass by. Speaking of Homophones, I saw a small red plane zoom past us as we were traveling. Sure, it's a common sight, but it excited me and made me think of that awesome picture that is often forwarded through email of the Boeing 747 getting ready to crash into a passengers window.
Ahem, planes crashing isn't funny.
The only good thing about American Airlines is the fact that they have GoGo on their plane. I was able to reply emails and watch some videos from 40,000 feet in the air, and that made me happy. I remember reading an article in Times about their development, and to actually see it come into fruition made me happy with the world, especially the good people in the Technology part of it.
Finally, a new thing that one day we'll wonder how we ever lived out. The world's a-changing. Change is a sweet sadness.
We finally arrived in sunny Los Angeles at 1pm, my colleague got a rental car and we began the fairly familiar journey to The Standard.
For the first time, in a long time, I was actually happy to be in Los Angeles. Not only was it warm, but my attitude had changed about it. For the last year or so, I was living with this big chip on my shoulder about how Evil Los Angeles is, and I am not exactly wrong, Los Angeles contains a lot of Evil, but I finally worked out how to work it. Some people think that you have to change who you are when you live in Los Angeles, that's easy, but not true, what's hard is to understand how it works and to resist resisting, and simply be yourself, but Hollywood style. Everyone loves someone who is unique and refreshing, but they also don't mind if it happens to be packaged easily too. I realized the game they play a few weeks ago, and I felt fully prepared to embrace it and enjoy it.
I took a lot of photos of simple things that intrigued me from the car, and after I had been adamant that the only suitable thing to do would be to drive straight to an In-N-Out Burger and taste sweet West Coast goodness, we went to The Grove (yay, Steve Grove shout-out right here, that will never get old for me) and I had a good long phone call with Brooke, she is a strong young lady, outside of the Apple store, we went to Kiehl's and I picked up some good quality luxuries for a fairly decent price.
I then dragged my unwilling colleague into a Kmart to buy my favourite line of foundation, Maybelline New York, (if I was going to play the game, I needed the right materials) and got very annoyed at him when we returned to the car to see the windows wide open. Brooke had recently been robbed and as much as I like to trust the good nature of people, I do not want to test it. That, to me, is just common sense.
We finally checked in to The Standard, and after a few awkward moments (caused by...ahem, that guy) with the man at the front desk, I decided to smile a lot and he checked me in first.
It's hard to describe exactly how I felt when I checked into my room. Though I am appalled that the rooms cost so much, the familiar lay out and the sweet decor of the room warmed my heart, because for a second, I felt home. I quickly regained consciousness and realized the silliness of the setting. I should be anywhere but here, but it would only be for four days, I could allow myself a relapse into my old ways for that, and plus, it wasn't on me. I'd be broke. Again.
I settled in for the night, working out (for the first time in probably 3 months) and watching videos at the same time, and slowly fulfilled my duties and sunk into the big, cold bed.
Hello, Los Angeles. It's me, Caitlin.
- The Long-Winded Typer and The Apologies for a Pointless Blog
I do hope that you know how I am so impressed by all of you. You're all amazing and truly kind and decent people, and you make me feel (even with all the random flukes and luck that is thrown at me) truly lucky, and incredibly grateful.
I'm not sure this post will be as interesting as last, but I'm trying to see whether I can truly record everything. Life isn't always an interesting blog post, but hopefully you may tune in from time to time to catch up.
Thanks,
Love Caitlin.
***
I had spent most of the night, after the awards ceremony, packing my battered red bag, which I bought with Ben once in San Francisco at Ross - good times, so when my Ikea Alarm Clock started clanging in it's 'I look like an old fashioned clock, but I'm actually brand new, so I'm hip and secretly pathetic, Fight Club' style, it didn't take me long to shake off the little sleep I dived into and prepare for the "Great Journey To The West!"
I wore a long white-sleeved shirt that had been given to me the night before by a lady I have never met. She was a resident artist at the National Arts Club, and she couldn't make the presentation because she was to be in Cambodia at the time, so she sent me the shirt and the sweetest card. It made me feel very special, and the shirt was very beautiful (the word Hope was hand painted in Cambodian).
As I proudly rolled my bag (I had finally packed my bag appropriately!) to the elevator and then out to the street, I was relieved to see that my driver hadn't rushed off without me, he did, however, talk a lot, and he had opinions about everything.
"Don't trust these show business people, they are only ever after one thing, you know? You should find yourself someone who works, you know? A banker, or a lawyer, or, you know, any kind of work, you know? If they are 40 years old (I realized he was probably 40 years old or so), that is better for you, then a 20 year old, you know? They have lived and worked hard..."
I nodded and agreed with him, but I could not wait to get out of the car and escape his long speeches. At some points, he became quite taken with his views against my life and his voice rose to the point of almost yelling. I could imagine him being quite violent at home, or at least very demanding and full of expectations. I felt that the car was Cuba and my driver was Castro. "Why won't you die!?!?"
I still tipped him very well, "Thank you very much, miss, I appreciate it," and happily walked up to the Self-Service stations at the American Airlines section of JFK.
I like American Airlines because they are a part of the One World program, and my silly life has moved my Bronze Qantas Card membership up to a Gold Card and no matter what class I am in, if I get Priority Access, I always feel a little thrill of happiness. I like to appreciate these things, I hope I never forget to appreciate them.
My colleague, who would be traveling with me, wanted to be put on the waiting list for Business Class, but the Self-Service Station could only handle so much confusion, and eventually a lady led me to the Business Class check-in. The lady behind the desk told me the plane was full, it didn't bother me, and then I waited in the makeshift "lobby" for my colleague to arrive and check in.
He was impressed that I was actually on time, and I have to admit, so was I. I have now been through enough close calls and missed planes to arrive at the right time.
We passed easily through Security. I gave the back-of-a-fellow-passengers head the Evil Eye after she pushed my bag along the conveyor belt. I don't actually mind that she touched my stuff, she was just being helpful, but sometimes it's fun to smirk at the fact that I even bothered to move my facial muscles when nobody saw it. I think I like it, because it's totally private. Very rarely does anyone notice. I like that. I like being anonymous.
I bought 2 greasy salted pretzels before I got on the plane, they were very good, but afterward they made me feel awful. I think I must find out exactly what products my body cannot manage, because it gave me the worst stomach ache on the plane. Then again, I really shouldn't be totally surprised that pretzels were a bad choice for breakfast.
The annoying thing about planes though, is that no matter what I eat or don't eat, my stomach always ends up becoming bloated and sore. It makes me wonder if it just can't handle the change in altitude.
Does anyone else suffer from this? It's very annoying.
That's why I would prefer to always journey by car. Sure, I can't drive and the wrong type of car can be particularly bad for the environment, but I want to see what I travel past, I don't want to look over head and squint. It is beautiful though, and the closer you get to the West and its Mountain Ranges, the easier it is to understand how the Tectonic plates work (even though most were most likely exit points for hot lava). The mountains look like cracks in mud that has dried in the sun, and you can easily see how the world will develop from high up. I'm sure it's a marvelous sight from space.
I hadn't let myself look out the window from a plane across America for a long time, because I spent a great deal of time looking outside my window when I first started traveling, and I found the surface of America very dull and dry and baron. Now, after losing my ignorance, I thoroughly enjoy watching the plains pass by. Speaking of Homophones, I saw a small red plane zoom past us as we were traveling. Sure, it's a common sight, but it excited me and made me think of that awesome picture that is often forwarded through email of the Boeing 747 getting ready to crash into a passengers window.
Ahem, planes crashing isn't funny.
The only good thing about American Airlines is the fact that they have GoGo on their plane. I was able to reply emails and watch some videos from 40,000 feet in the air, and that made me happy. I remember reading an article in Times about their development, and to actually see it come into fruition made me happy with the world, especially the good people in the Technology part of it.
Finally, a new thing that one day we'll wonder how we ever lived out. The world's a-changing. Change is a sweet sadness.
We finally arrived in sunny Los Angeles at 1pm, my colleague got a rental car and we began the fairly familiar journey to The Standard.
For the first time, in a long time, I was actually happy to be in Los Angeles. Not only was it warm, but my attitude had changed about it. For the last year or so, I was living with this big chip on my shoulder about how Evil Los Angeles is, and I am not exactly wrong, Los Angeles contains a lot of Evil, but I finally worked out how to work it. Some people think that you have to change who you are when you live in Los Angeles, that's easy, but not true, what's hard is to understand how it works and to resist resisting, and simply be yourself, but Hollywood style. Everyone loves someone who is unique and refreshing, but they also don't mind if it happens to be packaged easily too. I realized the game they play a few weeks ago, and I felt fully prepared to embrace it and enjoy it.
I took a lot of photos of simple things that intrigued me from the car, and after I had been adamant that the only suitable thing to do would be to drive straight to an In-N-Out Burger and taste sweet West Coast goodness, we went to The Grove (yay, Steve Grove shout-out right here, that will never get old for me) and I had a good long phone call with Brooke, she is a strong young lady, outside of the Apple store, we went to Kiehl's and I picked up some good quality luxuries for a fairly decent price.
I then dragged my unwilling colleague into a Kmart to buy my favourite line of foundation, Maybelline New York, (if I was going to play the game, I needed the right materials) and got very annoyed at him when we returned to the car to see the windows wide open. Brooke had recently been robbed and as much as I like to trust the good nature of people, I do not want to test it. That, to me, is just common sense.
We finally checked in to The Standard, and after a few awkward moments (caused by...ahem, that guy) with the man at the front desk, I decided to smile a lot and he checked me in first.
It's hard to describe exactly how I felt when I checked into my room. Though I am appalled that the rooms cost so much, the familiar lay out and the sweet decor of the room warmed my heart, because for a second, I felt home. I quickly regained consciousness and realized the silliness of the setting. I should be anywhere but here, but it would only be for four days, I could allow myself a relapse into my old ways for that, and plus, it wasn't on me. I'd be broke. Again.
I settled in for the night, working out (for the first time in probably 3 months) and watching videos at the same time, and slowly fulfilled my duties and sunk into the big, cold bed.
Hello, Los Angeles. It's me, Caitlin.
- The Long-Winded Typer and The Apologies for a Pointless Blog
Thursday, 11 December 2008
Monday: The National Arts Club
On Monday I did not want to wake up. I was filled with dread. Only the worst could come out of this day, I just knew it.
I buried my head in my pillow, and wondered why I thought shutting my eyes to the world was going to solve any of my problems.
Eventually, when it was almost to late to do anything, I got up, showered and braved the icy cold of the early day.
I walked South to Economy Candy and stood in wonder for a moment as I gazed at their wall-to-wall shop fall of delightful cavity inducing wonders.
I wanted to try everything and nothing all at the same time. Candy is good, but sometimes it just leaves you feeling like a cheap date; empty and a little bit worthless.
I called my colleague and asked her how many Candied Stars we wanted for tonight's dreaded event. She told me 5 pounds for each. I told the lady. And moments later I was hailing a cab with a large shopping bag filled with blue and white candied stars...and a ready-made Smore (do you add the 'S' for singular use?) for me. I needed some kind nutrition for breakfast.
On the way to the office I was told I would not have to go to meeting at 11am and my mood lightened a great deal. I dropped the Candied Stars off to the Marketing Lady, tasted one: bad, and then proceeded to watch 'My Super Sweet 16' in the reception office with the awesome receptionist and my extremely messy Smore. 30 seconds really is too much.
Once I had wiped all the chocolate off my face, I then thought that I might need new shoes for the event and went to the horribly organized shoe store on the corner of 14th Street and Broadway. I walked away with nothing but a request for my phone number from a man from the Caribbean who liked Cricket.
I told him I was taken. I had enough Cricket in my life to last me forever.
I had to run to the Salon to get my hair done for the event at 6:30pm. I was nervous because I felt like I was running out of time. That my life was, again, just an hourglass ("...so are the days of our lives"). I felt like I was completely out of control, that time was just steering me to my impending doom.
I then encountered one of those, "New York Hates Me" moments when there is not a cab available anywhere. I was going to be late. So late. Half an hour late. I walked all the way up to 19th Street before I saw one glowing its golden light just for me.
The Salon experience, was long but pleasant. I always find it interesting to be asked, "What would you like to drink" and then to never receive it. It had happened twice at the Salon already (my hair was a mess) and I had decided to just decline whenever it was asked.
Then tea came, and I bit my lip and drank.
I am now very happy with my hair. It's finally similar to my natural shade, but with a little bit more of a dark edge, and it was painless and quick and the man blow drying my hair, did so with such love that I kept patting my hair, as if to make sure it was truly connected to my messy head.
Because I had arrived at 1:30pm and it was now close to 5, it was suggested that I just get my makeup done at the Salon. I agreed because, 1: if I was going to be slaughtered, I might as well look good doing it and 2: It was not exactly my money, so...wait, hold on...uh, it was for the good of the company. Yeah. That's it.
The lady did an amazing job, and when I looked in the mirror I flashed back to when I was 14 and getting my Head Shots done for my new interest in pursuing an acting career (resulting mainly from winning 'The Adjudicators Award' (and getting the Head Shot course for free as a result) from the Australian Acting Academy. I had just been airbrushed and I turned around to the mirror and I couldn't find myself. All I could see was this strangely shaped blonde girl moving exactly the way I did. I quickly looked into the mirror and for the first time realized the wonders of makeup. I became something...well, beautiful (in magazine standards). And as a 14 year old, already full of hormones and that irritating air of desperately wanting to be an Adult, I was quite excited.
The photos were never used. The prints were a waste of money. Though pretty to look at, yes, casting directors don't want to look at airbrushed people because airbrushed people can never be ever-airbrushed (unless your Christina Aguilera). So that was silly.
I wasn't airbrushed, but she had done something to my eyelids that made my eyes pop...and then, suddenly I was rushing from the second floor of the shiny Plaza Hotel, past the portrait of Eloise, through the gorgeously decorated lobby that always makes me feel like someone special, and into a taxi.
My mother called me as the taxi whisked it's way to the East Side, and I panicked to her about how it was 5:30. By the time, I get home it will be 10 to 6, and the car is meant to be picking me up at 6. And I still was not exactly sure on what I was to wear. I told her how I was nervous because I still hadn't made any notes for the speech I was meant to give. I knew what I wanted to say, but I knew notes were good to keep the mind on one track and that I was facing the risk of having a 'blank' and forgetting what I wanted to say. She calmed me down and wished me luck.
I didn't have my keys, so Sarah came down and let me in and I ran upstairs and started to get ready. I threw on the dress I wore to the Oscars Viewing Party that I bought especially for the event, and the sparkly shoes I bought next door, also especially for the event, and added tights and a scarf. Tights because it was cold and the scarf because I don't have the right bra for the dress and would be, hanging loose. As loose as a small B cup can get.
The driver, that was organized to take me to the event, called a few times. First letting me know he was here, and secondly asking me if I was coming. I'm used to drivers simply waiting. And he was early anyway. Jake said he was told to be there at 6.15.
I shouldn't have been so surprised when I called him (after it had taken me 3 tries to actually leave the apartment without forgetting anything) that he had left because, "I couldn't wait that long." I was 3 minutes early. "Call the car company, get another car."
I called out an expletive as I hung up the phone and walked to the corner. As I was walking the car company called me, "Only 21 dollar". I hung up the phone. I didn't have the time to wait for a driver to arrive to take me to an event that a Yellow Cab could get me to in less than 10 mins and for about 6 dollars.
Unfortunately, something as silly as a driver not being there waiting for me (who really needs a personal driver, anyway?) got to me, as the melodramatic, princess version of Caitlin started to take over. The side of Caitlin wanted the car. She didn't want to be standing in the East Village made up far too preciously for the neighbourhood, and in the freezing night.
The normal Caitlin, the one typing this, just wanted to text Fox Lampert. I missed him terribly and wanted him to be with me as I faced the scary event. I read his supportive, proud texts in the taxi as reggae music blasted around me, and could barely see his lovely words through my bleary eyes. I leaned my head back and blinked furiously, I didn't want to look like I had been crying, but two long slow tears escaped from both eyes and trickled down. That was all that was needed to come out. After that, I sucked it up and prepared for business.
I got out of the cab and walked around Gramercy Park to where the event would be taking place that night, the National Arts Club, which resides in a beautiful old house that has hosted many a true artists and real celebrities party and also had a great history of being the first club to allow women as members.
As I stepped through the doors into the warmer marble entry hall, the man asked me, "Are you here for Caitlin Hill?" I smiled and nodded and he showed me the coat room.
Yes, I was here for Caitlin Hill. That's right. That's me. I still felt like a fool, but my confidence was coming back. This was an honor, treat it like so, imagine how you'll feel when it's over, be grateful, stand up straight.
When I came back to the hall, the man asked me, "Are you tonight's Honoree? Caitlin Hill?" I nodded gratefully and he said, "I thought so," and pointed me up the stairs.
I shook hands with the man organizing the event and thanked him for his hard work.
David and Jake were already there, and I felt an enormous wave of relief wash over me as I walked to stand next to them. They felt like my rocks. If I stood next to them, and just talked about whatever, everything would be fine. They both looked great in their suits, and they were nice about my "costume" too. We stood close to the doorway, that leads towards the sitting rooms and the bar, for a while, greeting people as they entered and talking about nothing in particular.
After I had greeted a few people, I realized that the anxiety had made my mouth very dry, so I ordered a coke. "You're here for Caitlin Hill, right?" I smiled and nodded again. I liked the anonymity, and watched him as he signed off some sort of check list that would measure the budget of the party.
It was great talking with Cousin Brucie, who would be speaking later. I had realized I knew a legend a few months ago after I heard his voice on Across The Universe.
There were a great deal of wonderful people there, Walter, Catherine, the investors, Billy, Grace, Reese Schonfeld (another hero in media; the creator (with Ted Turner) of CNN and founder the Food Network) a whole bunch of other people that deserved more of my whole attention and fascination, and the wonderful man that is Aldon James, president of the club. He is possibly one of the most delightful people I have ever met. He is all at once, wise, honest and extremely funny and I have a great deal of respect for him. I told him I would help him learn how to use a computer.
Sarah came too, and it was so lovely of her to take the time out of her hectic schedule to support me. She is a lovely girl, and she looked gorgeous too.
I was quite excited to talk to Grace though, because she is training people, and I have reached a stage where if I don't start doing excercize, my thighs and hips are only going to continue to get bigger. I have lost most of the weight I gained from my first 6 months in America. I am feeling much better about myself now, but I believe Grace has what it takes to bring me back into an enthusiastic routine of excercizing.
Ricky Butler was also there. I was surprised to see him because I did not expect for him to come. But he is a new member now, so I guess it was fairly easy. Still, I was happy to see him as he's a good guy and we hadn't spoken in ages.
Suddenly a bell began to clang and after quickly exchanging introductions with an Australian reporter for a New York publication, we all rushed inside where a salad was already waiting for us.
I couldn't decide whether I was happy the food came out first or not. On one hand it pleased me because now I had more time to settle in and relax, and on the other time, it would have been nice to get 'The Scary' over with and enjoy the Lamb Chops I had requested be served as the main course for everyone.
I didn't eat very much, because I was on my best behaviour and mostly talked to Aldon about all kinds of things. He is a very busy man, balancing his evening between two receptions and searching for special things in the great big house while coming back to each course.
Eventually the lamb and dessert had been cleared away, and the Misters began to make their speeches all about little ol' me and what I have done.
I was extremely grateful for the kind words they showered on me. If I truly believed I had earned those words, I would have been very excited, but I couldn't help but feel pangs of guilt as I thought of all the people that have helped me and put up with my bad manners, lateness, laziness and depression.
Nalts made a terrific speech (when he sat down he said, "and now I can get hammered!" - I love him!), he was just brilliant, as was Reese, Allan Shaw, Cousin Brucie, Walter and Aldon, the nerves started to grow as I realized that maybe winging the speech wasn't such a great idea after all.
When Aldon presented me with the Medal of Honor for a Lifetime Acheivement in The Arts, I wobbled up to the podium, thanked him and stared at amazing at the round, gold medal, that, even though it was quite heavy, lifted my spirits and inspired me to do a little better...at everything.
I started my speech and it seemed to go over well. I felt like I might have breathed into the microphone too much, but I made the crowd laugh when I added my random lines and jokes and asides, and eventually reached the end and accepted the medal on behalf of ALL video creators online who want to acheive greater things.
People stood up and clapped, and it was the most lovely thing. I didn't know everyone in the room, but I am so glad that they were extremely supportive.
I did get very angry at myself for forgetting to mention one of my colleagues though, it plagued me for the whole night.
Once people had started parting for the night, Sarah and I watched Ricky and Nalts drink and be merry while filming on the Flip Sarah borrowed from Luke for the night, and be very funny with all their witty banter and true observations.
I thanked my boss for all that he had done and it felt good for everyone to be happy.
We were one of the last people to leave, there was this lovely woman there called Rose who was taking lots of pictures of everyone and was very sweet to me. She gave Sarah and I some good solid advice about boys and then we braved the cold that was even icier now, and accepted Nalts' invitation to drive us home.
When I got inside and sat on my bed, I shared a private, happy moment, where I simply smiled nad felt fulfilled. The night hadn't been such a disaster after all. Time was still urging me forward and I still didn't feel in control of this person that everyone was saying such lovely things about, but I accepted that it was just a moment, a wonderful moment and that I'm very lucky and that I should just be happy with this happy accident of a life that I'm leading.
After all, my Mum said I was a happy accident, so maybe that's what my whole life will be. One long series of rewarding accidents, a blonde whisp lacking in motivation, floating through the air of life.
Yeah, sounds alright. But I do want to steer my journey for a while. I'm not ready to. I will know when I will be, and all will be merry and there will be cake.
Thank you National Arts Club, this medal has inspired me to be the greater thing that you see in me.
The Standard Girl and The Michael Cera Bumper-Innerer.
I buried my head in my pillow, and wondered why I thought shutting my eyes to the world was going to solve any of my problems.
Eventually, when it was almost to late to do anything, I got up, showered and braved the icy cold of the early day.
I walked South to Economy Candy and stood in wonder for a moment as I gazed at their wall-to-wall shop fall of delightful cavity inducing wonders.
I wanted to try everything and nothing all at the same time. Candy is good, but sometimes it just leaves you feeling like a cheap date; empty and a little bit worthless.
I called my colleague and asked her how many Candied Stars we wanted for tonight's dreaded event. She told me 5 pounds for each. I told the lady. And moments later I was hailing a cab with a large shopping bag filled with blue and white candied stars...and a ready-made Smore (do you add the 'S' for singular use?) for me. I needed some kind nutrition for breakfast.
On the way to the office I was told I would not have to go to meeting at 11am and my mood lightened a great deal. I dropped the Candied Stars off to the Marketing Lady, tasted one: bad, and then proceeded to watch 'My Super Sweet 16' in the reception office with the awesome receptionist and my extremely messy Smore. 30 seconds really is too much.
Once I had wiped all the chocolate off my face, I then thought that I might need new shoes for the event and went to the horribly organized shoe store on the corner of 14th Street and Broadway. I walked away with nothing but a request for my phone number from a man from the Caribbean who liked Cricket.
I told him I was taken. I had enough Cricket in my life to last me forever.
I had to run to the Salon to get my hair done for the event at 6:30pm. I was nervous because I felt like I was running out of time. That my life was, again, just an hourglass ("...so are the days of our lives"). I felt like I was completely out of control, that time was just steering me to my impending doom.
I then encountered one of those, "New York Hates Me" moments when there is not a cab available anywhere. I was going to be late. So late. Half an hour late. I walked all the way up to 19th Street before I saw one glowing its golden light just for me.
The Salon experience, was long but pleasant. I always find it interesting to be asked, "What would you like to drink" and then to never receive it. It had happened twice at the Salon already (my hair was a mess) and I had decided to just decline whenever it was asked.
Then tea came, and I bit my lip and drank.
I am now very happy with my hair. It's finally similar to my natural shade, but with a little bit more of a dark edge, and it was painless and quick and the man blow drying my hair, did so with such love that I kept patting my hair, as if to make sure it was truly connected to my messy head.
Because I had arrived at 1:30pm and it was now close to 5, it was suggested that I just get my makeup done at the Salon. I agreed because, 1: if I was going to be slaughtered, I might as well look good doing it and 2: It was not exactly my money, so...wait, hold on...uh, it was for the good of the company. Yeah. That's it.
The lady did an amazing job, and when I looked in the mirror I flashed back to when I was 14 and getting my Head Shots done for my new interest in pursuing an acting career (resulting mainly from winning 'The Adjudicators Award' (and getting the Head Shot course for free as a result) from the Australian Acting Academy. I had just been airbrushed and I turned around to the mirror and I couldn't find myself. All I could see was this strangely shaped blonde girl moving exactly the way I did. I quickly looked into the mirror and for the first time realized the wonders of makeup. I became something...well, beautiful (in magazine standards). And as a 14 year old, already full of hormones and that irritating air of desperately wanting to be an Adult, I was quite excited.
The photos were never used. The prints were a waste of money. Though pretty to look at, yes, casting directors don't want to look at airbrushed people because airbrushed people can never be ever-airbrushed (unless your Christina Aguilera). So that was silly.
I wasn't airbrushed, but she had done something to my eyelids that made my eyes pop...and then, suddenly I was rushing from the second floor of the shiny Plaza Hotel, past the portrait of Eloise, through the gorgeously decorated lobby that always makes me feel like someone special, and into a taxi.
My mother called me as the taxi whisked it's way to the East Side, and I panicked to her about how it was 5:30. By the time, I get home it will be 10 to 6, and the car is meant to be picking me up at 6. And I still was not exactly sure on what I was to wear. I told her how I was nervous because I still hadn't made any notes for the speech I was meant to give. I knew what I wanted to say, but I knew notes were good to keep the mind on one track and that I was facing the risk of having a 'blank' and forgetting what I wanted to say. She calmed me down and wished me luck.
I didn't have my keys, so Sarah came down and let me in and I ran upstairs and started to get ready. I threw on the dress I wore to the Oscars Viewing Party that I bought especially for the event, and the sparkly shoes I bought next door, also especially for the event, and added tights and a scarf. Tights because it was cold and the scarf because I don't have the right bra for the dress and would be, hanging loose. As loose as a small B cup can get.
The driver, that was organized to take me to the event, called a few times. First letting me know he was here, and secondly asking me if I was coming. I'm used to drivers simply waiting. And he was early anyway. Jake said he was told to be there at 6.15.
I shouldn't have been so surprised when I called him (after it had taken me 3 tries to actually leave the apartment without forgetting anything) that he had left because, "I couldn't wait that long." I was 3 minutes early. "Call the car company, get another car."
I called out an expletive as I hung up the phone and walked to the corner. As I was walking the car company called me, "Only 21 dollar". I hung up the phone. I didn't have the time to wait for a driver to arrive to take me to an event that a Yellow Cab could get me to in less than 10 mins and for about 6 dollars.
Unfortunately, something as silly as a driver not being there waiting for me (who really needs a personal driver, anyway?) got to me, as the melodramatic, princess version of Caitlin started to take over. The side of Caitlin wanted the car. She didn't want to be standing in the East Village made up far too preciously for the neighbourhood, and in the freezing night.
The normal Caitlin, the one typing this, just wanted to text Fox Lampert. I missed him terribly and wanted him to be with me as I faced the scary event. I read his supportive, proud texts in the taxi as reggae music blasted around me, and could barely see his lovely words through my bleary eyes. I leaned my head back and blinked furiously, I didn't want to look like I had been crying, but two long slow tears escaped from both eyes and trickled down. That was all that was needed to come out. After that, I sucked it up and prepared for business.
I got out of the cab and walked around Gramercy Park to where the event would be taking place that night, the National Arts Club, which resides in a beautiful old house that has hosted many a true artists and real celebrities party and also had a great history of being the first club to allow women as members.
As I stepped through the doors into the warmer marble entry hall, the man asked me, "Are you here for Caitlin Hill?" I smiled and nodded and he showed me the coat room.
Yes, I was here for Caitlin Hill. That's right. That's me. I still felt like a fool, but my confidence was coming back. This was an honor, treat it like so, imagine how you'll feel when it's over, be grateful, stand up straight.
When I came back to the hall, the man asked me, "Are you tonight's Honoree? Caitlin Hill?" I nodded gratefully and he said, "I thought so," and pointed me up the stairs.
I shook hands with the man organizing the event and thanked him for his hard work.
David and Jake were already there, and I felt an enormous wave of relief wash over me as I walked to stand next to them. They felt like my rocks. If I stood next to them, and just talked about whatever, everything would be fine. They both looked great in their suits, and they were nice about my "costume" too. We stood close to the doorway, that leads towards the sitting rooms and the bar, for a while, greeting people as they entered and talking about nothing in particular.
After I had greeted a few people, I realized that the anxiety had made my mouth very dry, so I ordered a coke. "You're here for Caitlin Hill, right?" I smiled and nodded again. I liked the anonymity, and watched him as he signed off some sort of check list that would measure the budget of the party.
It was great talking with Cousin Brucie, who would be speaking later. I had realized I knew a legend a few months ago after I heard his voice on Across The Universe.
There were a great deal of wonderful people there, Walter, Catherine, the investors, Billy, Grace, Reese Schonfeld (another hero in media; the creator (with Ted Turner) of CNN and founder the Food Network) a whole bunch of other people that deserved more of my whole attention and fascination, and the wonderful man that is Aldon James, president of the club. He is possibly one of the most delightful people I have ever met. He is all at once, wise, honest and extremely funny and I have a great deal of respect for him. I told him I would help him learn how to use a computer.
Sarah came too, and it was so lovely of her to take the time out of her hectic schedule to support me. She is a lovely girl, and she looked gorgeous too.
I was quite excited to talk to Grace though, because she is training people, and I have reached a stage where if I don't start doing excercize, my thighs and hips are only going to continue to get bigger. I have lost most of the weight I gained from my first 6 months in America. I am feeling much better about myself now, but I believe Grace has what it takes to bring me back into an enthusiastic routine of excercizing.
Ricky Butler was also there. I was surprised to see him because I did not expect for him to come. But he is a new member now, so I guess it was fairly easy. Still, I was happy to see him as he's a good guy and we hadn't spoken in ages.
Suddenly a bell began to clang and after quickly exchanging introductions with an Australian reporter for a New York publication, we all rushed inside where a salad was already waiting for us.
I couldn't decide whether I was happy the food came out first or not. On one hand it pleased me because now I had more time to settle in and relax, and on the other time, it would have been nice to get 'The Scary' over with and enjoy the Lamb Chops I had requested be served as the main course for everyone.
I didn't eat very much, because I was on my best behaviour and mostly talked to Aldon about all kinds of things. He is a very busy man, balancing his evening between two receptions and searching for special things in the great big house while coming back to each course.
Eventually the lamb and dessert had been cleared away, and the Misters began to make their speeches all about little ol' me and what I have done.
I was extremely grateful for the kind words they showered on me. If I truly believed I had earned those words, I would have been very excited, but I couldn't help but feel pangs of guilt as I thought of all the people that have helped me and put up with my bad manners, lateness, laziness and depression.
Nalts made a terrific speech (when he sat down he said, "and now I can get hammered!" - I love him!), he was just brilliant, as was Reese, Allan Shaw, Cousin Brucie, Walter and Aldon, the nerves started to grow as I realized that maybe winging the speech wasn't such a great idea after all.
When Aldon presented me with the Medal of Honor for a Lifetime Acheivement in The Arts, I wobbled up to the podium, thanked him and stared at amazing at the round, gold medal, that, even though it was quite heavy, lifted my spirits and inspired me to do a little better...at everything.
I started my speech and it seemed to go over well. I felt like I might have breathed into the microphone too much, but I made the crowd laugh when I added my random lines and jokes and asides, and eventually reached the end and accepted the medal on behalf of ALL video creators online who want to acheive greater things.
People stood up and clapped, and it was the most lovely thing. I didn't know everyone in the room, but I am so glad that they were extremely supportive.
I did get very angry at myself for forgetting to mention one of my colleagues though, it plagued me for the whole night.
Once people had started parting for the night, Sarah and I watched Ricky and Nalts drink and be merry while filming on the Flip Sarah borrowed from Luke for the night, and be very funny with all their witty banter and true observations.
I thanked my boss for all that he had done and it felt good for everyone to be happy.
We were one of the last people to leave, there was this lovely woman there called Rose who was taking lots of pictures of everyone and was very sweet to me. She gave Sarah and I some good solid advice about boys and then we braved the cold that was even icier now, and accepted Nalts' invitation to drive us home.
When I got inside and sat on my bed, I shared a private, happy moment, where I simply smiled nad felt fulfilled. The night hadn't been such a disaster after all. Time was still urging me forward and I still didn't feel in control of this person that everyone was saying such lovely things about, but I accepted that it was just a moment, a wonderful moment and that I'm very lucky and that I should just be happy with this happy accident of a life that I'm leading.
After all, my Mum said I was a happy accident, so maybe that's what my whole life will be. One long series of rewarding accidents, a blonde whisp lacking in motivation, floating through the air of life.
Yeah, sounds alright. But I do want to steer my journey for a while. I'm not ready to. I will know when I will be, and all will be merry and there will be cake.
Thank you National Arts Club, this medal has inspired me to be the greater thing that you see in me.
The Standard Girl and The Michael Cera Bumper-Innerer.
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
National Arts Club - Medal of Honor (formeogmaigadz)
Before you read this, please note that my reaction to receiving this award was, "Oh no, Walter. What have you done?" I was mortified. I don't like receiving things I don't deserve but also didn't want to seem ungracious, because I adore the National Arts Club. I don't believe there was any money involved in receiving this award. I believe that the people involved were amused and impressed by the amount of views and perhaps didn't know that in the world of YouTube, it is hardly impressive.
So, when I accepted the award, I said that I wasn't accepting this for myself, but for all the online creators out there. I also secretly hoped that I will one day be able to feel like I've finally earned the award my dedicating my life to the arts.
I'm still grateful to the National Art Club for the award, and here is my - rather teen-like - account of the night.
This blog was originally posted on my Mostly Private Myspace:
Current mood: on plane
Hey everyone,
It's been so long since I've posted a blog on myspace, I'm almost at a loss of how to go about explaining what I've been up to.
Everything is out in the open now, so there will be no more secrets and I can just blog like the regular girl that I am.
Last night, I was the Honoree guest at the National Arts Club for the Lifetime Achievement Medal of Honor in the Arts - for making videos - crazy.
I'm only 20, and a fairly new 20 year old at that, and now I'm being awarded for something I've spent less than 3 years working on.
It was a little overwhelming and I also felt like it was completely ludicrous, I mean, really? Me? Come on! What about that guy? He does stuff.
I'm extremely grateful to the President Aldon James - the most delightful eccentric man I think I have ever met and the board of the NAC and also Walter Sabo, the CEO of Hitviews (my boss...even though he prefers that we are all just colleagues and business partners) for making the event such a success.
The NAC house was gorgeous, decked out in Christmas decorations and simply glowing like a really beautiful, old-fashioned Christmas tree.
Catherine, the marketing lady, had created these marvelous gift bags and I got to choose the main meal (lamb chops for the win).
Reese Schonfeld, the man who (along with Ted Turner) created CNN made a speech all about me (that nearly made me cry), and Walter spoke and he was very sweet for someone who has definitely seen some bad sides of my character, Nalts spoke and was very funny (he made me so nervous, because I hadn't prepared and his speech was absolutely wicked), Allen Shaw spoke and was wonderfully down with the URL Lingo and Online videomakers and THE Cousin Brucie (that's the man who introduced the Beatles to America and was King of Rock n Roll on the airwaves) talked about how crazy the Online world is, and how he doesn't understand what I do, but he likes it.
I was very surprised to see Ricky Butler there, but he and Nalts made it really fun once it was all over, joking around and making fun of people...
I was so glad that Sarah came, who is my hot lady roommate, she looked gorgeous and she got some great shots of everything that happened.
I'm sorry that this is so disjointed. I'm just feeling a little bit 'off' from having not written a blog in so long. Most of the time, I start writing with a message to say and a way to frame it and this is just a bunch of memories spilling out, and being pumped through my fingers as fast as I can keep up with them.
It was a great way to end the day.
I had a private little moment of happiness in my room once I got back home.
The pressure I felt to be something enamorous and spellbinding quickly fell away as soon as I arrived, and my acceptance speech went really well (apparently), even though I was "winging" it.
The day before had been quite depressing, true, I did start the morning right by going to Economy Candy on Rivington Street to buy candy for the gift bags (that shop is incredible), and yes, little work was actually accomplished due to having to rush to the salon a little after noon, but taxi cabs weren't there and people were frustrating and I just felt like I was having one big "New York Hates Me" day.
And when finally, after hair and makeup were complete and I had rushed back home to put on my dress (a spontaneous decision that thankfully turned out alright), the car that was meant to take me to the NAC decided that it wasn't going to be on time, but early, (and I was prepared to be on time) and decided that "I couldn't wait that long, call the car company". I promptly told him to "!@#$ off" It was so rude. I wasn't even late and David (money guy at the company who organized the cars) told them to wait and just add on the charges). So then the car company calls me off, and tells me it can get me a car for 20 dollars and I was just like, screw this. A cab can get me there in 5 dollars.
So I caught a cab, but then I was reading my <3's texts to me and everything suddenly became too much and two thick tears rolled down my cheeks as I blinked furiously and tried to pull myself together.
I did. And I did it good. Finally. : P
xoxo
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