Take it as a sign....

Listening to:

So here I sit this not so fine evening after a day of labor and preparation (not H ;-P ). I'm not gonna lie folks, I spent my entire afternoon in my PJS cleaning and rearranging furniture. Exciting and extraordinary, huh? Yeah, I thought you'd be impressed. So there I stand slightly sweaty, in my fuzzy pink peace sign pajamas, sans makeup looking REALLY model-esque let me tell you. What's that I hear? Muffled Iron & Wine playing somewhere in the pitfall that I just created? Huh, that's my generic ringtone..oh well, they'll have to leave a message I dunno where that thing is buried. Suddenly it hits me. Wait a second...didn't that casting director say we would hear back no later than Monday? Crap.

So what does a dishevel me do? DIG, DUH! Turns out it was a good thing I dig quickly! I officially have landed my third independent, low budget role. Excited? I think yes. As I am sitting here on the phone thanking my lucky stars that I dig like a hound dog on speed, the casting director is talking about how my job is to be a piece of "living breathing sexiness" how I am to embody "sexual tension", "beautiful hair, intense eyes, curves to die for". He is telling me this I am staring in my what now seems ENTIRELY too large mirror. I stare at my reflection, Frumpy PJs? Check. Ponytail? Check. Sweaty face? Check. Show stopping vixen? Negative Ghost Rider.Ughhhhhhh.

So in a fit of inadequacy I run to the bathroom and grab a package of deep hair conditioner, acid peel, and a razor. Nothing like getting a "sexy" role to make you realize just how UN-sexy you are. As I turn on the shower I wonder if Kim Kardashian ever has days like this...or maybe Beyonce? Eh who am I kidding. Screw those two in their ridiculous perfection.

So I put on the acid peel and hop in the shower. I apply the deep conditioner to my hair and start shaving. A few minutes later, in my extreme haste to feel my instant improvements, I slip in the shower...throwing my face into the water, no big deal you say? Guess who was using acid peel as their new eye drops? Oh yeah. In the pain of this I went to wipe my face forgetting I was holding a razor. I managed to catch my left hand with it, slicing my fingernail all the way up to the nail bed. I screamed in pain and jerked my head down to inspect the blood dripping finger. I did this only to catch my thickly coated hair in the stream of water...coating the floor of the shower in conditioning cream. I reached for a towel to help my finger and slipped on the now coated shower floor ending up unceremoniously on the floor. Needless to say: not.my.night.

Is there a point to me sharing all of this? Not really. Does it make me feel better to complain? Hell yes.

Moral of this story?

1. Sexy? I am not. Clumsy, I am.

2. The universe is trying to tell me to just give up, personally I think it means directly about the shaving thing. Yes? Yes.

3. Next time...let it go to voicemail.

Signing out,

Your Bruised, Bloody, and Beaten Free Spirit :-/

Negative Two To You Too!

Listening to:

So today I get this email:

"Sky,

I have this project that I really want you to get involved in come March, but I really need some good photos of you without your braces! I can't present photos of you to my investor if I don't have anything up to date. Glad to hear you got them off, now let's make that wait time worth it.

Signed,

Bob (No his name really isn't Bob)"

'Okay' I think to myself, 'I can handle that...I'll just get in touch with the studio down the road on Monday'. As I'm about to exit out of my email I notice something tacked on to the end of this email: "P.S. I'm having dinner with him tomorrow so if you could get right on it that would be great."

......If I haven't said it before, this isn't the first time nor the last I will: I hate this industry sometimes.

Oh, hey...did I mention that it is -2 for a high today? Here let me type it again for those of you that missed it... It is -2 here!!!! Thanks, I feel better now.

So my mom says, "Well let's just go take some." (btw for those of you who don't know, my mom is a very good newbie photographer) I can deal with this. Then I realized that if I am going to be taking good photos that my 10lb parka and ski boots probably weren't an option. Instant dismay. So I pack a bag full of outfits and my mom puts on two layers plus a ski jacket as I think daggers at her in her warmth.

We drive to a local park and start hiking to a good photo area past all of the normal, bundled sledders as they look at me like I'm crazy. As if the fact that I'm seven shades darker than anyone in a five mile radius isn't enough, I'm traipsing around in two feet of snow in my high heeled boots and leggings. Nucking Futs. We finally get to the secluded area and start shooting. The good news: I learned that after five minutes or so you can no longer feel your fingers or feet. The bad news? I learned that numb feet lead to falling down. face first. a lot.

We spent an hour and twenty minutes out there including one wardrobe change (my ass is STILL defrosting) and scored three hundred pictures. Talk about stoked. While on the drive home I get to flipping through them only to find out that about a hundred of them weren't of me...my mom had been shooting the ducks behind me :-/ thanks mom.

Moral of this story?

1. People suck.

2. "Freezing your butt off"...Yeah, it's real.

&

3. Quit reading your emails on Fridays.

P.S. I walked away with 17 GREAT photos for both the Casting Director and my portfolio: Epic Win. :) I put a few from today at the end for fun.

Signing out,

Your Frostbitten Free Spirit

Allow Me to Introduce Myself...

Listening to:

You there, in the back...yes, you. Hi :)

I'm sitting here about to write my first post. Sweating. I mean if this one sucks its all down hill from here, right?

I am Sky. Depending on the day of the week. And who you are. And what state you live in. Long story lol.

So I suppose I should write about myself? I am a living, breathing contradiction. Trust me, you'd never want to live inside my head, ever. I wear Burberry and own six pairs of camo sweats (thanks Brad!) I own more books than anyone I know and more high heels than should be legal. I appreciate women who never wear makeup, but I won't be caught dead without mascara.

I have a strange sense of humor and a devil may care attitude. I'm both the fiercest friend and the fiercest foe.

Things that I love:

Feeling the wind in my hair.

Walking around barefoot.

First hand accounts from the past.

I respect my native elders. They are the wisest and noblest people I have ever met.

I am a recovering Big Mac-aholic, why that is my addiction I am not sure.

Being myself and I'm more than happy to let you be yourself.

Antiques.

Music..ALL kinds of music.

Blue Raspberry Jolly Ranchers

Iced Chai Teas

Boba Tea

Food. I am a model who LOVES to eat. Pretty much destined for disaster.

Art. Did mention art? Allow me to reiterate.

Museums.

Documentaries.

Beaches.

Good Conversations.

Feel like you're on match.com yet? :-P Photography. I have a love/hate relationship with my camera

Starry Skies. Mmmhmm

Acting.

Turquoise.

People Watching

Indy Films.

Burberry.

Fireplaces.

Kids with no filter.

Wondering where Waldo is.

Sunflowers.

Football.

Good chapstick.

Hands. They tell such a story.

Loaded cheese fries.

Wolves.

Snow.

Nostalgia.

The smell of rain.

Being a ninja.

Cooking.

Singing in the shower. Loudly. Aaaand mildly off key.

Yoga.

Incense.

Potato salad, the mustard kind.

Christmas lights.

Gardening.

Listening.

Now that you have a ton of useless Sky trivia....Ya know what I love to know more about? You.