Archive for April, 2006

Back in Holland. First saw an almost estranged friend at the airport, then went to my brother. I think we walked about 9/10th of the Dutch beach that afternoon. So nice. I was greeted at home by my lovely mother and not-so-lovely mail from all kinds of boring thing. My policy of ‘hey, if they type my name instead of writing it, it cannot by fun enough to open’ definately caught up with me.

And then I saw a dentist. I love how you ALWAYS leave with more pain and holes in your denture than upon arrival. And you know the fit just hit the shan when a dentist gives your gaping mouth the look, the frown, and the ‘oh oh’. Right. He deemed it necessary to have a 92 minute visit to my rootcanal. After being stabbed with a needle so gynormous that if you would see it in a movie, you would consider it of non-realistic size, I wobbled around the waiting room in dying fear of what was about to come and boy oh boy did you see the size of the needle that just punctured my flesh. Then it was partytime. I’m still not sure what was worse, the sounds I heard in my head, the thought of what was going on, or the smalltalk this friendly dentist wanted to engage in, and me not being sure if he understood that my response capabilities were limited by the fact that HE IS ATTEMPTING TO KILL ME WITH DRILLS.

Besides that, good to be back. Went to pick up Rick yesterday, jumped poor old Dave, shaved his head, saw my old housemate from South Africa and saw more friends, craziness!

Two more minutes left on my internetthing. I’ll stop. Just got my India shots. Definately internally yelled at Leo a couple of times…

Had a shoot yesterday in Mohonk, upstate NY somewhere, it was absolutely gorgious. A shoot with about 546 models, so I didn’t have to work too hard The ride back was not too shabby either: gigantic motorhome where we all had our own leather yes-I-can-fold-out-too-Friends-kinda-chair, a fridge full of goodies, and King Kong on the DVD. A high stress day. It took us an h0ur and a half from Yankees Stadium in The Bronx to 14th street, what a punishment.

Then, I had a new experience in our own building. I had a drink with one of the neighbors. On the roof of the building. The view from there is just absolutely stunning stunning stunning! Being a block from the river, the whole skyline is staring us in the face. I’m flying to Holland next Saturday. I’m going to miss New York.

Went mad on the MBNY front today: Nigel Barker agreed to a one-on-one talk about MBNY, I have another CEO (of amazing non-profit Do Something) on my board and am almost ready for the major meeting at NY Cares. And was able to shamelessly promote MBNY for an interview about Foooord moooodels that does moooore than just moooodeling (that’s gonna get old fast ). What a day. What a life.

Wow. What an impressing movie. Don’t you think? A thinker. Something to remember. Yeah, many people are suffering. The world is not quite fair. You want a beer?

Isn’t this what we all do? We watch a movie like this one about the pain we still inflict on Africa today, and we all realize for a split second that we should do something! Yes! Change this world, fight evil! Then we continue and go back to real life. Security. Worries. Bullshit.

And I am one of them. You see, I tell myself that I really want to actually be helping first-hand. You know, move to Africa and help, yeah! But I also tell myself I believe in being efficient. I am a model now, I am gaining a very doubtful form of tiny fame, which could help me set up something such as ModelBehaviorNY and work at ORBIS. I think that I can be more effective using my work that I have now to help more people. I volunteer. I try. Right?

Or am I just too damn scared to actually do something? Give up modeling, don’t even get me started on the symbolics of the work I do, and move to where help is needed? Am I living in New York because I am just another bleeding heart semi-helper who would love to do something, as long as my own security isn’t touched?

Maybe, I mean, my reaction to this movie is a thousand-and-one thoughts as to how I can change my life. And going to an internet-cafe, listening to Snoop Dogg on the speakers and writing an inspired piece of shit about my poor confused feelings.

Do I want to be a Western helper? Be in the spotlight for not just being a pretty face, he cares too! Or do I want to be real?

What will I think when I see this tomorrow, when the heartbleeding stopped?