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12:21 am - FRI 1/18/02 I stopped, got out my little "pocket journal", and jotted down the number on the sign. Then when I got to work, a few minutes early, I went to a phone in the back room and called the number. The conversation I had went something like this... "Hello?" "Hi, I'm calling about the car you have for sale." "Wha?" "I'm calling about the Honda Civic you're selling. What year is it?" "Huh?" "What year is the car?" "88" "And what's the mileage?" "Duh?" "How-many-miles-are-on-the-car?" "I don't know." "Okay, well thanks a lot." And I hung up. I figured if I was having such a monumentally tough time getting basic info from this person, complex questions like "Why are you selling the car?" were just NOT gonna work. I drove my CURRENT car around today. I'd told myself today was the day for a "test drive", when there wasn't really anything at stake, and I could just relax and see what would happen. I went around the neighborhood for about half an hour, then decided, as long as I was tooling around in the car, to try and run a few errands, like stopping at the bank, to cash the $20 printer rebate check that finally came in the mail recently, and getting the folding table and backpack I've been wanting to buy at Staples. The initial driving around part went fine, but after I stopped at the bank and before I got to Staples, the little "brake thing" happened; Basically, the feeling is that there's a moment where the brake doesn't CATCH, somehow, and the car doesn't stop quite where you'd intended, or as quickly (However you describe it, it just doesn't seem GOOD. It certainly doesn't inspire a feeling of confidence, or SAFETY). But, trying to put a positive spin on this, it only happened ONCE, and the car didn't stall at any point during my tour (I probably drove around a little less than an hour, all told). So I'm telling myself that maybe the car is SORTA fixed. Sorta. And at least I got the long-awaited and practically lusted-after table and backpack (I'd worried about whether the table was going to fit in the car, but it slid into the back seat like the car had been custom-made for hauling 24x48" tables). I've wanted the table for quite some time because I felt like I really needed an "office", both for when I pay bills and when I start doing those big mailings to agents and casting directors that I should have been doing all along at this point; There's already a desk/bureau thing in this little recessed, enclave area as you go from my living room to the bathroom, but it feels small and claustrophobic, and it quickly became apparent that I was never going to use it for anything but a flat surface to pile junk on. So anyway, I brought the table in, and set it up in the "dining room". But oddly enough, it just didn't LOOK right somehow, no matter which way I put it. So I ended up putting it in the "living room", which struck me as having a number of selling points; It looks more PROFESSIONAL, somehow, and less like I'd be "doing my homework at the kitchen table". It's a step away from the computer, from my books, and I can watch tv while I do whatever it is I need to do (That last part is pretty important--One thing I think is important in my future success out here is to be realistic about the way I operate, and to work WITH that and not AGAINST it). The backpack ALSO figures into my plans to get a little more "professional"... When I first started at Borders, I was pretty appalled by the "bag check" policy. I also felt constrained by the fact that bags had to go either in our lockers, which are very small, or in Padric's office, which is frequently closed. So I bought a VERY small, red bag, maybe not the smallest backpack EVER, but certainly the smallest I'VE ever seen. I figured I could get it into my locker, which was a good thing, and being so small, it could be looked into easily without my feeling like someone had to paw through all my stuff. But the down side of this cute little bag is that it's TOO small; A small "book journal", maybe one paperback book, and my lunch (An apple, a microwave burrito, and a yogurt)is pretty much all it can handle. (This also started the habit I've developed of loading down my pockets with stuff. Now I have a routine that I'm uncomfortable deviating from; In my left pocket, I have a couple pens, the blue "courage" stone Kristie D. gave me as a going-away present, a nail file, and my keys, and in my right pocket, I have my "pocket journal", my address book, and a "pocket comb," which actually strikes me more as a "pocket brush," but I guess that's neither here nor there). So anyway, I decided I needed a larger bag, in order to 1) Take advantage of one of the few perks of Borders, which is to check out books (Both for the purposes of cheap entertainment, and for "research"), and 2) Make sure that always have some headshots readily available. This may sound pretty mundane, but it was stuff that made me feel good. Small steps, but steps in the right direction. Steps that say, "I'm ready to do what I need to do out here, and make the most of my time and circumstances". So yay me! Jeez, it's suddenly going towards 2:30 am. How does this sort of thing happen? I have a LOAD of stuff I want to talk about, but it's going to have to wait. I've gotta hit the sack.
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