The aforementioned pug dog is at the spa having a massage.

Yes, they offer those.

There is a pug dog in the dining room with a plaid cape. Very dashing. For a pug.

Yesterday the chef brings a packet of papers to the front desk and wants me to type out the recipe for Bouillabaise. I did, and took the packet back to him. He said I was "the best." I replied that if I do much more secretarial work, I'm going to need a shorter skirt and higher heels. He was ok with that.

(Because I'm too lazy to write out the same updates twice)

Dear Dad,

Oh, puppies! Let mocha have puppies...And speaking of extra animals, on the off chance that I end up with a six month contract on a cruise ship, would you be interested (PLEASE) in adding my two to the menagerie. Cai is mainly an outdoor cat, and Chloe is no hassle. She just likes to sleep in a warm place. All day. Give it some thought. I would of course give a lump sum for their food and flea meds, and pay for any (hopefully none) vet visits. I don't want to give them away... Think about it.

I got a photo printer yesterday. And the grey cartrige. So now I can print out my headshots at home. I'm hoping the cost of the cartrige will outweigh the 7 bucks a pop I'm spending on each headshot. And I can print out my own pictures too.

I'm working on a video audition for the cruise line -- they won't let you audition in person until they've had one video from you. I'm not sure how that works. But I'll be sending that in early next week. I should hear back from PCPA in a week or two. And Disney Auditions are on the 2nd. I'm talking with Jonathan Wilde tonight about getting in touch of someone to make a demo. He's recorded several in town. I was overwhelmed. VC said I needed 10-12 songs to show a variety. I don't have that much practice time. But Jonathan says that most people he's worked with really want just 30 second excerpts from about three songs. Far more manageable. I can pop that out in no time. And speaking of Jonathan. He was supposed to be in a new production of The Count of Monte Christo this summer. He sent my resume packet into his casting director. She was interested in me, but the project fell through from lack of funding. He says she'd like to use me in future projects....I'm sort of at a loss of what to do with myself if PCPA doesn't want me for the summer season. Work, I suppose. And I'm hoping that the cruise line will want me for the fall. And if not that, auditions for Leavenworth's winter shows are in September. The next big cattle call audition set are in February. I missed most of them this year. Next year though, I'll be at them all.

Regardless of what happens, I'll need to move myself to an area that has more opportunities. LA, perhaps. There auditions are listed in the trade papers.

Oh, and I'm beginning my deluge of casting directors and agents now that I have a way to mass produce headshots. I'll send resumes to anyone who has an address listed. This is a tough business to break into!

So that's the news. I'll be quitting Fess Parkers at some point in the next month or so. Once the Alisal picks back up to summer schedule, I'm NOT going to be working 80 hours a week for 5 months. I barely made it 5 weeks. Maybe through April. And I picked up a housesitting job for the week of spring break that pays $20 a night. There's my bridesmaid's dress. Now I just have to set aside money for the shower...

Tonight is Fess Parkers night. Ed Ames has been making regular appearances, and his wife thinks I look like a Vargus Girl. I found pictures of "Varga Girls" at an antique shop yesterday. I hope it's a compliment! I usually wear more clothing than the average pinup...I don't know whether I'm going or not...It does get old sitting by yourself for two hours, waiting for a chance to sing...Sometimes I hang out behind the desk or something. I'm not cool enough to sit at the Big table yet. Bill really wants me to come. He says I'm easy to accompany...Because I don't pick music he can't play, and I'm on pitch and following a general tempo... We'll see.

I've had a little extra in my paycheck for decorating. My apartment looks so nice now that Drea moved out. Everything has it's own place, and I've been able to spread around some artwork and hang a few things. I bought a vintage pillow case and a chandelier yesterday. Wendy and I both had the day off and went antiquing in Ventura. There are a ton of shops there, and off the beaten path in Goleta. The chandelier needs paint, some crystals, and some beads, but it was only $40, and I think I can shabby chic it up nicely. There were some beautiful ones there that I couldn't afford...Even without real crystals. I saw some loose crystals and the los Alamos antique mall. Maybe I can buy them a few at a time to add. If Mom sees any nice crystals up there, have her pick them up. I like the teardrops and the long pointy ones. Tonight I'm going to paint it white, and maybe embellish the leafs as green, and the petals pink. We'll see how the white works.

And that's life. Work is picking up. Sleep is fleeting. And I have great calves these days from wearing heels at work...To match my great set of tray lifting arms. And to think some people pay loads of money for a personal trainer. All they have to do to look this great is kill themselves working. And another benefit is beautiful skin...I haven't seen sun since I stopped working the barbecues!

Love,


Rachel

Finally. It's one o'clock and the sun is shining. And I'm going to go in a few minutes and change from my front desk dignified and conservative persona into something more girl next door. Then I'm going to grab some chips and a pop, maybe a sandwitch and some kettle corn, and take my journal and a blanket to the park. It seems like that kind of day. A weary, nap in the park, warm-snuggle in the sun kind of day. If I knew what the weather was like south of me, it would be a loll on the sand by the water day. Should I take the chance?

I was going through my old beat up sermon notebook, transferring it to my new shiny Sermon/Prayer Requests Journal, and I found a sermon from a month or so ago that got me thinking.

I went to a church that is in the process of changing names. The sermon was on the importance God places on names, his own and other people's. I took his challenge and used my concordance to look up the word name. It's in there a lot!

The point of his sermon was that our names are not an accident. Even if our parents only chose them for the sound, God has given them special meaning unique to each of us. I'm not sure what I think about a divine mandate about my name, but then I remembered how in Perelandra Ransom's name was chosen before ransom was a word. Before his ancestors morphed their name from Ranolf's son. Before ransom mean to act as the redemption for someone else. (BTW, did anyone else go back and catch in Out of the Silent Planet that Lewis says the name Ransom is a pseudonym? Nitpick!)

So I bought a baby names book and looked mine up.

Rachel: (Hebrew) Ewe, Lamb of God, Innocent.
LeAnn (Either a combination of Leah and Hannah, or Lee and Hannah)
Leah: (Hebrew) Weary.
Lee: (Old English) Meadow
Hannah: (Hebrew) Full of Grace, Mercy, and Prayer.

I kind of like going with Leah over Lee, because then I have an all-biblical, Jewish women of faith sort of name....But then, it is a lot to live up to!

(Over at Marla's Musings she has a link to name origins and meanings...Go find your own names)

After Great Pain

After great pain, a formal feeling comes--

The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs--

The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,

And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The Feet, mechanical, go round--

Of Ground, or Air, or Ought--

A Wooden way

Regardless grown,

A Quartz contentment, like a stone--

This is the Hour of Lead--

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow--

First--Chill--then Stupor--then the letting go--

~Emily Dickenson~

Tired again. Three days of double shifts in a row takes it out of you. How did I ever work five days through the holidays? I can't do this for too much longer...If I make it through the month-of-spring-breaks, maybe I can make it to May. After that I think all the EmergenC's and sleeping aids in the world won't be enough.

This has been a good year. A year of healing old wounds simply because I wasn't around the things that ripped them back open and made them bleed afresh. Sheer physical exhaustion is much to be preferred to mind and heart numbing depression and false hopes and never-quite-attained resignation. So I can't complain too much (though I do) about all of the working and too little sleeping. It's been a good year.

I take it all back

At least I have a job, in fact more jobs than I know how to manage.

An older gentleman walked into the Inn yesterday. Well dressed, well spoken. He had been well educated and worked as a consultant in the area of financial planning, projection, something like that. His entire life savings had been invested somewhere, and whoever did the investing ran off with it. His car was repossessed. He had no money to pay bills, much less groceries. He came to beg for a job from a man he'd met as a business associate once, and hoped could help him. He didn't want a handout. He needed work.

How ungrateful do I feel for griping so much about my jobs?

*The gentleman came back this morning trying to get an employment application. I gave him one, and directions to my church which has a deacon's fund for these types of emergencies. I hope there is someone at the church... it's saturday, and there are no receptionists on...why don't I think of these things? I got more of his story, too. There was an add in the paper for $8,000 off a new car with a trade-in. As it turned out later, the new car promised was actually a used car, with a huge downpayment and another huge monthly payment. Of course, if you were late in paying, there were huge fees and the threat of reposession. So he has no recourse. How do companies get away with stuff like that?

I'm tired today. Of the endless monotony. Of working two jobs. Of having hours so slow that once bills are paid, there's nothing leftover. Of wanting to pay off more loans, but not being able to do more than the minimum, not from poor management of money, but because there is none. Of not being able to eat out. Or splurge. Of having time, finally, to myself, but no excess funds for gas even just to drive someplace. Of having life up in the air and entirely variable. It's been exciting for a while, but now I'm sitting around (figuratively, since by my tally you can see that I am auditioning and sending out resumes) waiting for some of my other prospects to surface. Hoping that I won't be waiting tables forever. Hoping that the agent who wanted me last year will want me now. Hoping that the touring cast I have a contact with will call me back. That PCPA will hire me for the summer season so I can at least put some shows on my resume. That someone somewhere will see me perform and want me for something. I feel like Eliza Doolittle after the ball, wanting to shout, "What am I fit for? What have you left me fit for?" I'm so specially trained that my options are narrowed. If I don't get to sing, I'm left competing for jobs with people who have never gone to college. I wish I could sell my degree back and pay off these darn loans. What good is a worthless degree? I could have just taken voice lessons...

I'm tired of going every Thursday night and singing my heart out. It's great experience, and the most valuable part is getting feedback from other performers. But then the inevitable happens. The after show schmooze. "Why aren't you performing? When will we see you on Broadway? What on earth are you doing here? Why aren't you out there? Doing things?" And when I try to explain life's amusing little curve ball they "Wish me the best" and can't wait until they can "tell people they knew me when I was just a cocktail waitress/Front Desk Clerk/ Singing on Thursday nights." And they invariably end with "Well you're great, you need to just get out there and I'm sure things will happen for you."

It brings to mind the phrase "damning you with faint praise." Not quite. But its all well and good for all these people to wish me the best and all, but really I wish they wouldn't. I leave every time feeling like I have all the talent in the world, but I'm wasting it here. Don't they realize that the phrase "starving artist" isn't a kitsch metaphor but a blatant reality? It costs money to put together the demos, the headshots, the videos, the CD's, the resumes on nice quality paper, the packets, the postage to mail the packet, the postage to mail the packet again when the agent didn't look at it the first time, the postage to mail all of the "I hope you got my packet, here's what I'm up to now, and I'm going to keep bugging you until you represent me/give me a job/ let me audition for you" letters. Not to mention gas to get to the auditions, and air fare to the far away ones, lodging, food while you're there. And before you go you have to get a haircut and your nails done so you look professional.

I'm not complaining (well I am today, but most days I accept it as part of the business), but I do with all of these people would stop "well wishing." The honest admiration is very heartening. I really appreciate people who tell me they enjoyed the performance, or that I'm comparable to any performer they've seen when they traveled to _____. What they could knock off is all of the comments about "why aren't you ......?" If they really want to see me "get out there/up there/over there and perform then they need to put their money where their mouth is or shut up.

I'm sorry for all of you who are getting the brunt end of today's discouragement. On the way home last night Grandma started talking about I just need to pray that God's will be done. Which I do. And I trust that his will is the best for me. But the interminable waiting is discouraging...