On hair sprayed eggs and getting wet

I don’t know what in the last days was more surreal. That I became one of Littlefinger’s whores or that I a chance to be on the set of Game of Thrones.

First one was like a dream coming true – that brothel was the only place saw myself in the whole Westeros. Maybe because I felt deep inside that becoming Daenerys was as unrealistic as becoming Cinderella.

Second – watching a completely new world created, seeing filmmakers in action and all the effort of the art direction department, getting up before sunrise just to spend a long day in a cold Irish castle – made me sure, that I’ve chosen the right course.

I’m not talking about any sense of mission – to bring the books to life, for example. It’s just that environment – a set of such a huge production – made me physically wet. Dealing with fussy extras, realization of shot lists, making sure every line sounds perfect and the magical effects on monitors. (I’ve been staring at them every time I got a chance)

Don’t get me wrong, eating my breakfast while having my hair done was great (oh, that taste of the hairspray in my fried eggs… :P) and wearing a fancy costume as well, but I would much rather be the person, who brought me that food and placed it on a dressing table in front of me or a person who draped a scarf around my hips and told me I was ready to go.

Maybe it’s such a cliché, but I’ve really met loads of fascinating, beautiful and talented people. Now, I’m really glad, but shortly after I got back – laying in my not-even-in-London bedroom- I started feeling like such an underachiever and wondering how the fuck I got there and what the hell I was doing among them.

Now I just feel hungry. I want more. I want back on set or just a different, new adventure to come up.

Come on life – surprise me!