I Don't Mean To Brag, But....

... Once again, I can call myself a professional, paid actor.

As mentioned previously on this space, I did a little film project last month for some Academy of Art student directors. Well, yesterday I received my compensation: $150. No, it's not much, but given how many non-paid actors walk among us, I consider 150 bucks to be pretty good.

Don't worry, I won't quit my day job. It's just nice to be paid for the occasional acting work I do. No matter how small the amount, I always appreciate a financial acknowledgement that acting is, in fact, work. Too many actors work for free because directors take advantage of their hunger for opportunity.

In other creative news from the land of Sassy, I have been very tenacious in practicing my Daydrinker songs over the last few days. I have the first two down, but the third one Higgins taught me on Tuesday has proven a little tougher. To that end, I have been practicing my part for at least a few minutes everyday. And practice I will continue; this band has one committed back-up singer, let me tell you.

Finally, I leave you tonight with perhaps a less than positive anecdote. When I first moved to San Francisco, the one thing I hated about the City was the rampant neighborhood snobbery and superficial judgement. A lot of people I met were creative, Mission-types (whether they actually lived in the Mission or not), and I heard incessant disparaging of the Marina and Pacific Heights. More accurately, I heard incessant disparaging of the people who populate those neighborhoods. And there was much yuppie-bashing, even though most of my friends were, by all accounts, yuppies, themselves. Maybe some (and only some) of them worked in the non-profit sector or bounced from temp job to temp job to support their acting habit, but whatever his or her profession, a young, urban professional from a privileged background is still a yuppie. I was stunned. Here were adults behaving in a clique-ish manner more appropriate to junior high school. Whereas my attitude has always been that there are both jerks and nice people in every group... or neighborhood.

Well, after ten years, it appears that I have adopted at least a similarly judgmental attitude.

On Thursday night I went to a bar South of Market with Sheela and Biraj, and the experience was flat out depressing. Everyone in the place seemed like a vacuous yuppie with nothing more to offer than a passion for making and spending money. They all even looked the same, despite differing heights, weights and ethnicities. And honestly, they all looked like they'd call the Marina or Pacific Heights home. There was not one person in that bar I wanted to be around, let alone talk to. Now, I wasn't there to meet anyone; I was there to hang out with Sheela and Biraj, but still. Just being surrounded by those people was too much.

Given that I talked to all of maybe three members of the yuppie crowd, I know I am being very superficial. And I imagine the same type of judgment befalls me when I stroll into any one of the Mission bars I frequent wearing Ann Taylor sundresses, Franco Sarto boots and sometimes pearls. I generally leave the pearls at home when I go to the Mission, but not always. I'm hardly rich, but I do make a decent living and enjoy some luxuries. However, I know I'm a creative, intelligent, interesting woman who detests gross materialism (relatively speaking, that is; I'd say most of us who live in the United States, including me, indulge in some type of gross materialism). Not everyone who sees me perched on a bar stool in Casanova or The Make Out Room likely looking like I don't fit in knows that, however.

So you'd think I'd know not to judge a book by it's cover and be a little more open-minded when surrounded by alleged uber-yuppies. Well, apparently not. And frankly, I'm okay with that...