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1:40 am - Sat 11/23/02


Last night, actually while I was writing in here, I paused to call Cressandra.

It was probably ill-advised. In fact, I know it was ill-advised.

I probably sounded drunk, too. But I wasn't.

What did I say, exactly? To be honest, I can't really piece it together. Something about "Where did I go wrong? Did you never want to go out with me, or did you lose interest along the way, or what?". Crap like that.

Worse yet, I left it on her machine. Now she'll probably play it for her friends at parties; "Listen to what this loser guy from the bookstore left on my machine..."

But really, it's not that big a deal. She probably already thought I was a fool for asking her out in the first place, since she's basically Julia Roberts and a bag of chips. And I didn't call her a bitch or say anything especially nasty. It was really more like "Boo Hoo. You hurt my widdle feelings...". More pathetic and sad than evil and psychotic.

My mind's searching, searching, searching. Searching for positive things, because while everything I wrote in my last entry reflects my true feelings, it's not the whole picture...

It's occurred to me that, even with the shitty theater experiences I've had out here so far, it's been nice that my talent has been pretty readily, immediately recognized. That was, early on, something of an issue for me; I was actually afraid that I'd be out here and wouldn't be able to make anything happen, at any level. But even though the projects have been stupid and sucked and haven't paid, I've gotten cast, so at least I'm considered good enough to do crappy projects for no money (Shit..and that started out being a "positive", too! Oh well...)

There was a moment, when I was in the play and had a couple of commercial auditions coming up, where I felt like "This is what I want right now. If the play were a paying thing and I didn't have to work at the bookstore and I was having regular sex with an attractive, appealing young woman, this is exactly how I'd like life to be going."

I felt that with the Geffen thing, even though I knew nothing was going to happen there. And I felt it briefly last night, when I got my first-ever chance to prepare for a commercial audition (I can't undersell how good it felt, before I fucked it up the next day, to have at least a chance to affect the outcome of an audition by virtue of my talent).

Getting the bookstore out of the way would be good in many respects, but if I suddenly got a national commercial or two, and was actually able to leave the bookstore, I think it might be problematic; With no other social contact, I think I'd be pretty bereft for a good long time (I'd just have to hope that I'd be meeting and making friends in "the business" at that point. And I'd be able to afford acting classes--Still an ongoing issue for me, every time I read an interview with a casting director who stresses how important they are--and would hopefully make friends from there as well. And of course, there are always my friends back home. And Diaryland. But anyway...).

It's occurred to me that, poverty notwithstanding, I'm going to have been here for two years before you know it. And barring catastrophic injury or illness, I'm here for the duration, black moods of desperation and despair be damned!

I think one of the things that got ahold of me pretty hard this past week and wouldn't let go was that feeling that "I'm screwing up". Or worse yet, the feeling that I've already screwed up, the damage is done, and now all I can do is run out the clock best I can till I keel over, alone and unloved.

Not a happy thought. I've had a load of "not happy thoughts" lately (Some not ready for Diaryland consumption, due to their scary, dark-and-disturbing nature), but in the midst of those thoughts, I'm still going to work, I'm still sending out headshots, I'm still going on commercial auditions, and with basically nothing really going for me, I'm still trying to make things happen with the ladies.

But I'm afraid my writing eyes were bigger than my stomach; I had lots of stuff to say that didn't make that last gigantic entry, so I thought I'd "finish up" with this one, but now all I can think is that it's time for me to go into a state of fitful unconsciousness.

Our next big topic? Jim Talks About "Stuff". Stay tuned...


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