Update from April 30, 2001.

Yesterday, I went to the casting agent's office in the meatpacking district at 4:30 right after mathematical physics.

I was not really taking this too seriously.. until I walked in. The office was a loft space with one wall covered completely with polaroids of people they've cast for shows and shoots before, the same type of polariods that they took of me-- except these people were famous. Gisele was on the wall, in a green shirt, flashing the peace sign to the camera. Laetitia Casta in a mens undershirt looking moody.

The casting director recognized me as I walked in, I assumed from my polaroids, because I've never met him before. I scope out the competition-- About 10 other people are in for the castings.

These are the tallest Asian women I've ever seen.

At about 5'6, I'm almost the shortest one there. I take a look at the sign in sheet, and I am nearly the only one with more than one name. Ahead of me in line is Mayuko, the famous Japanese model. Intimidating. Everybody has a strange British accent.

There's a line to put the phone number of your agent-- I just put my home phone number. They tell me it will be about a 20 minute wait, so I started figuring out a Diffusion Equation in a bar or slab problem for the final on Wednesday.

I visit the bathroom--- there is no mirror or reflective surface of any type-- which could say a lot, or could say very little.

When they called my name, I went into a room with a white background, and realize it's the same room that all of the photos on the wall were taken in. I stripped down to a bathing suit and they took pictures of my front, back, sides, and face. Suddenly, the photographer whipped out a tiny digital video recorder, and started asking me questions. It was kind of wierd-- her voice sounded rather disembodied as she asked me questions like, "What's your name?" "How old are you?" "What's your nationality?" "What are your plans for this year?"

So I started going on about crew, and how I was going to give it a go at sculling flyweight this summer, and how I wanted to make a good showing at St. Catherines (Royal Canadian Henley) this summer. I talked about mathematics, all while standing in a white room nearly naked.

I got out, and checked out everybody else-- even though they're really good-looking, they look totally like regular people, completely unlike their pictures in Vogue or on runways. I didn't really feel like I belonged there.

It's rather unnerving to know that is what these people do for a living.

So don't think I'm shallow, or blame me for doing this by voting it down-- you must realize that there are all sorts of people on e2 and this is what I did yesterday. It's not as if I ran over a cute puppy and laughed about it. Am I the only person who doesn't use daylogs to whine and bitch about how depressed I am, in the hopes that the cheap votes will lift me out of said depression?