A young sorority version of Liza Minelli sits across from me at lunch
shouting pop phrases at the top of her lungs
showing the world that she knows her craze culture
and making them feel bad cause they watch E! too
gazing through crack glazed eyes covered by bangs
tinted Ebony 7- Vogue color of the month
declaring her love for designers, and worse- middle aged boyfriends
not even old enough to drink, but loud enough to convince otherwise
if she was a man, she'd be a sports anchor on tv
this Liza Minelli girl
and i eat my soup and wonder to myself
am i too quiet for this industry, or just too real?
I'd like to post script that with saying that I'm not a big poetry-as-thought person, but I've been dealing with a bit of self-doubt lately. This same girl sat for an hour at lunch with other sorority girl types hanging on her words, listening to stories of Jared Leto and Hollywood parties, and the Versace jacket that she spoke loudly of on the phone to the person who's house she had left it at. It sounds mean, and I know it is to think it, but it's people like this in the industry that I hope will never make it. I cross my fingers, knowing they've never worked a day in their life, and hope that there is some justice in the world.
It's just hard, in this city, to ever know where you stand. I've got it better than a lot, I know- an apartment, a job, friends. There are just moments in between where you see how other people are and step back. You know you don't want to be that way- jaded, or unappreciative, or bitchy.
It's also getting a little harder now that I've started more fit modeling. The work is good, and the pay is good, but sometimes the other models are just so unreal. In the meantime, if you see me around and I look like a zombie, keep in mind that I generally work no less than 8 hours per day and adding another job is quite taxing... but hey, when your rent is due, the landlord won't exactly take a cute smile, three hundred dollars, and an IOU. Until next time...