New York Film Academy’s Summer Camp for Young Actors and Film makers

I have to admit, when I was younger, I secretly wanted to be a movie star.  Not only that, but I really, really wanted to go to a summer camp.  I never did though because I didn’t tell my parents of my secret summer camp desire.  I can’t remember why, but I didn’t.  Silly me.  This week’s guest post is all about a summer camp that my teenage self would have LOVED to attend (what am I talking about, it still sounds like heaps of fun!):

It’s not uncommon for teens to dream of a career in the film industry, but knowing where to start is the first (and often biggest) hurdle. For over a decade, the New York Film Academy has provided that instrumental first step for many teenagers looking to break into film.

An impressive majority go on to find great success in their chosen disciplines, be it camps for acting, scriptwriting or working behind the camera. Two fine examples are Nicholas McDonald and Analiegh Tipton – both of which got their foot in the door at a NYFA summer camp, with Nick going on to act in ABC’s The Middle, and Analeigh appearing in blockbusters Green Hornet and Warm Bodies.

The New York Film Academy is also proud to have provided tuition to the children of instantly recognizable talent, too – Al Pacino and U2’s Bono have both put their daughters through film school at the Academy.

A young film fanatic will find themselves in good company at one of the NYFA’s summer camps.

What Kind of Summer Camps Are On Offer?

Although the school’s name hints at the fact that it specializes in film, the New York Film Academy does offer its trademark and unparalleled tuition in other areas of entertainment, too. This is reflected by the range of camps offered during the summer months, which include:

Musical Theatre
Filmmaking
Acting
Video Game Design
Broadcast Journalism
Music Video Composition
CGI and 3D Animation
Digital and Film Photography

With the current variety there is already something for everyone and additional subject areas are introduced and explored as the summer camp program continues to grow.

Who is Eligible to Join the Summer Camp?

A central belief of the NYFA ethos is to provide quality education and training to everyone, regardless of their previous background or experience. As such, there are very few restrictions on who can join the camp; however, there is an age division with camps tailored to either high schoolers (between 14 and 17 years of age) and tweens (between 10 and 13 years of age). There isn’t much difference between the two in terms of the overall experience and quality of guidance offered, but it should be noted that some subjects aren’t currently taught to our tween students (and not all NYFA locations host tween summer camps.)

It’s recommended to visit the respective teen and kids’ sites to learn more about the various options (and current limitations). Otherwise, no prior experience within the student’s chosen field is necessary and the NYFA is welcoming talented youths from around the world.

A Range of Summer Camp Locations

Don’t let the name throw you off – the New York Film Academy doesn’t just operate within its home state. As well as prestigious locations throughout the US (including the back lot of Universal Studios in LA and Disney in Florida), the NYFA has grown to include camp locations across the globe. In recent years, these have incorporated the idyllic Gold Coast of Australia, and two jewels of European culture, namely Paris and Florence.

For the most part, students attend a summer camp which is geographically closest to them but confident young people who take the opportunity to attend classes in a foreign country often get an added kick out of the experience. All classes – which vary in length between one to six weeks – are taught in English, so there’s absolutely no reason why students can’t incorporate a little travel experience within their learning!

 What Students – and Parents – Can Expect from the Summer Camp Experience

Above all else, the time spent on the course will be enjoyable and fulfilling. Not only will students get the opportunity to get acquainted with their chosen area of interest, but they’ll get to do so in a friendly, team-oriented environment. At the conclusion of the summer camp, students will come away with not only valuable experience in their craft of choice but quite often some lifelong friends.

Naturally, many parents are worried about their kids’ wellbeing while away from home. To allay these fears, the NYFA ensures that there is a good ratio of professional faculty staff to students. While the presence of staff and counsellors won’t detract from the summer camp experience and the exploration of areas surrounding the chosen campus, a commensurate level of supervision and monitoring will take place at all times.

Needless to say, the administration welcomes any questions or concerns ahead of the summer camp and are able to discuss any specific requirements.

Getting in Touch

To learn more about the range of programs including pricing and availability, visit the NYFA’s information portal here. Alternatively, you can get in touch directly:

Address: 100 East 17th Street New York, New York 10003 United States

Tel: +1 (212) 674-4300

Email: ben.zhang@nyfa.edu

*This guest post was brought to you by The New York Film Academy

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The undead snail

After we released Cinderella Alexandra, following metamorphosis from caterpillar to moth, Hannah wanted a new random insect for her bug cage. Instead, we saw a snail and figured hey, why not?

At first, the pet snail was great.  Every morning, we would check to see where the snail was, and if there were any new holes in the lettuce or leaves we put in there for food.  The kids loved watching her (or him. Or it. They are hermaphrodites after all).

But goodness they poop!  Long, thin snail poop soon appeared all over the walls of the transparent cage.  Slime was everywhere.  Not that they can help it, since they secrete mucous to aid locomotion.

Still, I kept feeding the thing, and it kept pooping and sliming.  A week or so later, we started slowly moving things to the new house, and the snail remained on top of the TV cabinet, above my line of sight, and out of my mind.  I forgot to feed and water it.

By the time we moved, the snail had been in the same spot in the top right corner of the cage for about a week.  No new poop appeared, and no slime trails led me to believe that it moved around whilst we slept.

I didn’t particularly want to tell Hannah that I killed her snail, so we just brought the cage to the new house and didn’t say anything.  Hannah didn’t know the difference.  She didn’t notice the lack of poop or movement.  To her, the snail had a favourite spot and liked to hang out there.

Weeks went by but the snail still didn’t move.  Through the clear sides of the cage, I could see a shrivelled up snail deep inside the shell.

“Mommy, look, a snail!” Hannah said when we were outside one day.

“We can’t have it here, it’ll eat all of my lettuce.” I said to Hannah “Where should we put it? In the front yard?”  I would have put it in the bin had Hannah not been there, because stepping on them makes that horrible cracking sound of death when the shell breaks, and gives me the heebie-jeebies.

I know those snails just want to eat my lettuce

“Let’s put it in the cage with the other snail!” Hannah said excitedly.

“Errr….ok,” I told her as I guiltily retrieved the cage from her room.  I casually knocked the dead snail off the corner of cage after I put the new snail in, hoping Hannah wouldn’t notice.  I’m not sure why I did it, I just did.  We gave the new snail some lettuce and sprinkled water in the cage.

“I see the fail?” Daniel asked the next morning.  For some reason, he decided that snails should be called fails.

As I put the cage on the dining table, my eyes nearly popped out of my head.  I had to quadruple check the cage to make sure I was seeing correctly.  The new snail was at the bottom of the cage, feasting on lettuce.  But there in the top right hand corner of the cage, was the dead snail, it’s tentacles and foot sticking out of the shell, moist and no longer shrivelled up inside.

I checked the spot where the dead snail landed when I knocked it off the side of the cage.  Gone. It had been over a month, but the snail was alive once again.

How. The. Heck?  Turns out, snails hibernate if conditions are unfavourable.  They just retreat in their shells and wait until food and water are readily available.

They can also live for years. Yes, years.   Sometimes, up to 15, or longer in captivity.  Sigh, I never thought I’d be looking after snails for so long.

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The boy at McDonalds

“Be good, and don’t eat anyone’s food.”  I overheard a mother tell her son, who looked about 10, as she opened the door to the play area at McDonalds.

That’s an odd thing to say, I thought to myself. He played for a while and then came up to our table, asking us random questions whilst leaning over the table and not so conspicuously reaching into our bright red chips box, taking a fistful of hot salty chips and shoving them in his mouth.

Aaron and I turned to each other with a “WTHeck do we do?!?!?!” look of desperation acrossboth of our faces.

Do we say something? Hide the food? Put it somewhere out of reach? Tell his mum?

Nope.  We went with completely ignore it and pretend that there wasn’t a random boy standing there reaching into our bags of food.

He played for a little while again before coming back to forage for chips once more (and by chips, I mean fries.  These Aussies have corrupted me).

The kids responded to random foraging boy by wiggling in their chairs, anxious to play.  I lifted Daniel out of the high chair and let him run around while Aaron threw away all of the remaining food, just in case our visitor came back.

I sat on the big soft-fall mushroom in the middle of the play area, watching Daniel and making sure he didn’t climb up the slide and get barrelled over by bigger kids, something he seemed to desperately want to try at least once.

“Do you like 80s music?” Random forager asked as he walked up to me, stopping too close for my comfort.

“Some.” I told him, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to get into a conversation either.

“I really like 80s music,” he told me eloquently as he came even closer, walking right up to me and putting one leg on each side of my knee, hands on my shoulders, practically straddling me.

Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe this particular moment.  This was not just your average 10 year old either.  This kids was bigger than me.  The play area at McDonalds is surrounded by glass on two sides and everyone in the restaurant can see the play area if they happen to be looking in that direction.  And if they did happen to be looking in that direction, they would probably think I somehow enticed an innocent child into my lap.

I wanted random forager off of me and out of my personal space as fast as humanly possible, but at the same time, I didn’t want to just push him with all of my might (mite?) and make him think he was some sort of a freak, scarring him for life.

I casually attempted to free myself from his grasp, at which point he decided it would be better to just sit in my lap, still going on and on about 80s music.  Somehow, I managed to inch my way towards freedom, a process that took about 30 seconds and ended with me sitting next to him on the mushroom.  I promptly stood up, avoiding any more awkward personal space incidents.

And where was his mum the entire time? Inside, reading a paper.  Oblivious to all of the food stealing and inappropriate invasions of personal space. Sigh.

*FYI, we don’t go to McDonalds often, but they have a great playground, and the kids love nuggets and chips, so sometimes, it’s a good treat.

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The new house

When we moved into the dodgy 2 bedroom rented apartment, I was 37 weeks pregnant and had a toddler in tow.  We (er…Aaron and friends) did all the moving ourselves and it took us about 12 hours.

This time, we didn’t kid ourselves and hired removalists. There was no way we would have been able to move all of our stuff whilst keeping the kids entertained and inside the houses despite the doors being wide open.  Plus, we had the brand new large fridge and a very steep set of stairs to get down.  Still, it took 7 hours, and that was after we brought a boot load of boxes to the new house every day for a week. It was pretty much just the furniture left, with a few boxes.

I seemed to have inadvertently hired the old lazy removalists.  One of them stayed on the truck arranging the things the other slowly brought down.  I would have imagined that someone that moves things for a living would be able to carry a decent amount of goods.  When I saw him carrying things like one fan down the stairs at a time though, I my imagination is far more imaginative than I thought.

The kids and I played with the minuscule amount of toys I had in a backpack for entertainment during moving purposes, but they quickly got bored.  An hour and a half or so in, I resorted to watching Peppa Pig on the iPad just to keep them from running out the very inviting wide open front door.

Hours later, the removalists were finished with all of the inside stuff.  I somehow managed to keep them entertained the whole time.  Moving things out of the garage was much easier, they just got on their bikes and rode around the apartment complex garage area and jumped up and down in muddy puddles that they made with the water tap.

Finally, we were able to leave, driving the 4 or so kilometers down the road in NSW to our new house.  Entertaining the kids at our new house whilst the movers unloaded was much easier.  Their room was already filled with their toys.  There is a backyard for them to run in, complete with a tap for them to make their favourite muddy puddles.

$700 later, the removalists were done.  A great big smile stretched across my face.  We did it.  We were in our very own house.  The kids have room to play, inside and outside.  No more landlords, no more real estate agents, or dodgy apartments.  We can do whatever we want.  We can paint the walls, put nails in to hang up heavy pictures, replace carpet with wood, make a vegetable garden, etc.  Not that we will do all of those things, but we can if we want to, and that feels fantastic.

If you’re moving to Victoria, why not check out the new Eucalypt village?

*This post was brought to you by Stockland

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The new bed

We were going to put the kids in their own rooms when we moved, but they didn’t want to be by themselves, so we didn’t.  They have been together in the same room for about a year and a half now, so it’s understandable that they wouldn’t want to be alone.

Instead, they can share until Hannah’s 7 or so, and in the mean time, we will have a spare room.  Something that will come in very handy when Aunty Jess and/or Uncle Jim come to visit from Adelaide, and even more handy when my parents come to visit one day.

Currently, the room is full of junk.  Ok, not actual junk, but the stuff that we didn’t need immediately and dumped in there when we needed to give all the boxes back to the movers and hadn’t yet had the time to actually unpack them.  I’m sure you can imagine the state it’s in.  We just kind of shut the door and ignore it, never wanting to give up our hour and a half of freedom each night after the kids go to bed and before I go to bed, to do something so tedious and boring.

But, The Jess and Jim are coming.  This Sunday.  (I wrote this post last week, so that statement is no longer true…)

We bought a bed for in there, and after the driver failed to call me to give me a delivery window as he was supposed to, and then delivered 2 boxes containing the same bed head, and 0 boxes containing a bed foot, then came back and switched boxes so we’d have a complete bed instead of 2 half beds, we now have a spare bed.

In a box in the living room. And a spare mattress,  leaning against the wall.  The room is still too full to actually put them in there.

The kids, however, were delighted when they came home from daycare and preschool to find a big mattress in the living room.  To them, it meant only one thing: “CLIMBING!!!!”

How does a little kid climb up a mattress that’s leaning against a wall at a very steep angle, you ask? Well, I won’t waste words describing it for you, I’ll show you instead:

Tonight we’d better start cleaning up the spare room….

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There she is

As I changed Daniel’s wet nappy, he reached down.

“Penis!” he said as he grabbed it, proud that he knew what it was called.

He let go and then grabbed again. “Penis! There she is!” He told me.

“Uhh….I’m pretty sure it’s a he, buddy.”

He looked at me, his jolly expression never wavering, “THERE SHE IS!”

Sigh.

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The mid-semester test

The mid-semester test was worth 20% of my entire grade for Biodiversity.  TWENTY percent!  I fed the kids as soon as they woke up so I’d have plenty of time to get to uni an hour early for some pre-test study sans all of the “mommy, play with me! Mommy, when will you be finished?!” whinging from the kids.

“Alright kids, lets go pick out some clothes.” I told them after breakfast.

And then I felt the rumbling.  It came on suddenly, vicious and without warning.

“Uh…I’ll just go to the bathroom first, then we’ll pick out some clothes.” I told them as I nearly pooped myself getting the 8 or so feet from the table to the bathroom.

I sat there for a while, freeing the contents of my stomach whilst feeling like I had 1o hungry pirañas all competing to eat me from the inside, making me sweat and sit on the toilet in a nearly fetal position.

“Ok, let’s go pick out your clothes.” I told them again when I was done.

And then it hit again.

And then again.

And then again.

I sent Aaron a freaking out text. “Boo, I’ve got the trots! I’ve gone 4 times in the last 20 minutes! How am I going to take a test when I can’t even get away from the toilet?!”

Luckily, it subsided after that.  I managed to drop the kids off, later than planned, but still with a bit of time to study (or run to the toilet if needed) before the test.

Driving away from Daniel’s daycare, the petrol light came on. That’s ok, I have enough time to get petrol and still get to uni on time for the test, I thought to myself, annoyed that I’d forgotten to get petrol the day before.  Seriously, I still have baby brain.  I’d forget my head if it weren’t attached.

It was right then that I realised I forgot to transfer my wallet from my backpack (which I use as a nappy bag) to my school bag. Crap. Not to mention I’d need my ID to take the test anyway.

It’s ok, if I’m quick, I can get home, get the wallet, get petrol, and still get to uni on time.

And I did.

By 1 minute.

I finished the test in 10 minutes and got 90%.  The average was 50%.  I’m not trying to brag, I’m just super happy that I didn’t poop my pants, and studied enough to get a good grade.

As a reward, I went to the hairdresser to do something about the dirty dishwater coloured roots that extend halfway down my head followed by the blonde foils I got way back in the beginning of October.  I was also in desperate need of a proper haircut.  I’ve been attempting to cut my own side swept fringe but keep ending up looking like my hair got caught in a pencil sharpener.  I asked for half a head of blonde foils, after internally debating myself as to whether I should go light or dark this winter.

This is what I got:

Don’t get me wrong, it looks ok, but so not what I asked for. I asked for blonde. Specifically, I asked for a warm blonde tone, but not brassy, and definitely not ashy. Somehow that translated to dying my entire head brown and then putting just one shade of blonde foils through the top.  Usually when I get blonde foils they use three different shades so it looks more natural. Sigh.

But that’s nothing, hair grows, colour fades. Whatever.

The worst part is the ticket.  Not so much the ticket itself, I deserve the ticket, but the fact that I got it speeding through a school zone.  Yes, a school zone.  I am horrified that I sped through a school zone.  In my haste to get to uni before test time, I didn’t even think about the school zone on the four lane road I was driving on.  The normal speed limit is 70k’s an hour.  The 8-9:30 school time speed limit is 40k’s an hour.  You get my drift here.  That is a very big difference, which comes with a very big fine that I got in the mail the other day and nearly fell over when I saw it.

But as I said, I deserve the over $500 fine, and the 5 demerit points it carries, but I’m disgusted that I failed to even remotely think about anyone other than myself at that moment of time, and the school zone didn’t even reach my radar.

I definitely won’t make that mistake again.

Also, I think I might be a nervous pooper. I sure hope not. We’ll see when exam time comes again….

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Flirting with your spouse

With little kids in tow, work, uni, housework, and whatever else you have going on, it’s easy to let quality time with your significant other fall by the wayside.  Luckily, today’s sponsored post gives us a look at how to rekindle the fire:

When was the last time you genuinely flirted with your spouse or significant other? Flirting is important, but chances are it’s been a while. Sometimes between dirty diapers, making baby food, keeping up with the house, and a serious lack of sleep new mommies simply forget what it’s like to flirt.

Let’s face it. Having a baby can change things. Our bodies are different, our hormones are all over the place, and we either don’t feel sexy or we’re just too tired to care. It’s normal and it’s nobody’s fault and you are not alone.

The good news is there are a few easy ways to make sure daddy knows mommy’s thinking about him in all the ways that matter which will of course drive him nuts so all he can think about is you.

Compliment His Manliness

Guys like to be needed for things they can actually do something about. Whether you need help or not, let him be the “man” he needs to be and seek (as well as compliment) his expertise. Just like women, men love complements. It’s a part of being human and receiving validation from those around us. It may seem oversimplified, but honest heartfelt compliments go a long way to making him feel good about you and him both.

Be Interested In His Day

You like to be asked about your day right? So does he, but you need to listen to his response, not just go about fixing dinner or talk over him telling him about yours. Ask him questions about the things he seems excited about. One of the top complaints men have about their significant others is their lack of attention towards them. It may seem unfair, but your interest in him will generate more of his interest in you.

Send Him A Gift

You know how it makes you feel when he gives you unexpected gifts. Turn the tables and surprise him every now and then. You could send him flowers — only you know how he would react to that, or mail order plants are another idea for his office. Don’t send anything to work that would embarrass him. That could backfire on you and defeat the purpose.

What guy wouldn’t want this on their desk?

Leave Him Little Love Notes

Naughty or nice? That’s up to you. Maybe a little of both! Guys can be very visceral and there is nothing wrong with that when you can use it to your advantage. Hide a few handwritten “love notes” before he goes to work; in his lunch, tucked into his morning paper, inside his briefcase or jacket pocket. One is fine, but several will really drive him wild. Just be sure not to put anything too incriminating or identifying just in case one somehow gets intercepted.

Whisper In His Ear

There is something sexually exhilarating about the feel of warm breath lightly against our necks and ears, especially when paired with breathless promises. The trick here is be sure you are willing and able to back-up those promises. No man likes a tease and after time it’s just boring and could cause resentment.

Men have as much responsibility as women when it comes to keeping the home fires alive, but new mommies shouldn’t forget who they were before they had babies because that’s the woman he fell in love with.

*Consideration was received for the editing and publishing of this article that was written by Sara.

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Dinosaur in the bath

Daniel loves baths. Sometimes I let him take his non-bath toys in the bath, which makes him very excited.

“DINOSAUR IN THE BATH!!!” he shouts with glee when one of his precious dollar store dino friends accompanies him in the bathtub.

“I pooped,” he told me the other day just before bath time. I cleaned him up and let him wander to the bathroom sans pants.

As he was walking, he looked down. “PENIS IN THE BATH!!!” He shouted with glee, just like he does when he gets to bring one of his toys with him.  He joyfully announced that his penis would accompany him in the bath about 5 times before he got in.

Only he seems to think he’s french and says le in front of everything, so it was more like “LE PENIS IN THE BATH!!!”

Unfortunately, he also doesn’t say th very well, and says ff instead, so it was actually like this:

“LE PENIS IN THE BAFF!”

My son, the french bogan.  Sigh.

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