get up (again)

Oh, it’s early. With the amount of people that will be in this living room in thirteen hours, I had to wake up before dawn. Coffee. Writing. Coffee. Writing. Writing. There’s never been a better example of Los Angeles’ hurry-up-and-wait-then-everything-hits-at-once policy than this weekend of script deadlines, out-of-town guests and my first game in the first sport I’ve ever been in all converging in one twenty-four hour period.

Segue here, then…

During the crucial surfing-the-Internet phase of this rewrite, I learned I’m the only, only, only, only, only, only person on this planet who isn’t on Twitter. [My favorite use of Twitter being Evany’s carpool dispatches. (Example: CCD: Sitting in the back of a fuzzy americar, wondering if that’s my soup (leaking? into my bag?) that I’m smelling.)]

Do I need Twitter? I already joined everybody over at Flickr. Won’t Twitter just use up even more of the time I don’t have? (Don’t answer that; I’m terribly behind in answering emails as it is. Please, I love you, thanks.)

Sigh. I guess I’ll just let Anna Beth tell me what I’m supposed to do about that. She already told me that the curtains in the kitchen need to go. Last year she loved them. This year she thinks they look like I’m countrified and cheap. Will I ever truly make her happy? I suppose this is the secret of our love affair. Perhaps it is the secret of everyone’s love affair with Anna Beth. I mean, who else can get people so riled up about painting a credenza white?

Chris and Allison’s Wedding

“I just want one of those damn entries out there to just be called ‘Chris and Allison’s Wedding.’ Is that so hard? Can’t it just say that and then talk about how pretty the wedding was?”

I would have done that anyway, even if the bride hadn’t specifically requested it, because the wedding was perfect. I cannot wait for the pictures. For the first time ever, I can’t wait to look through someone’s wedding pictures — a wedding I attended, even.

So, I’ve said that it was perfect. Now I’ll have to tell the self-centered story that these journal entries dictate. Sorry, Allison. You were the queen of winter, but I’m the princess of, so I have to do what I have to do.

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The Games We Play

I’m currently sitting on the floor typing while another version of me is currently playing on the television beside me. I’m making copies of the Anne Heche show for someone, and I’ve spent the morning calling people while watching them perform monologues. It’s a strange meta thing to talk to someone while listening to them yell. It’s even worse to watch yourself while trying to write about yourself. I’d say it was narcissitic, but I don’t have the ego.

I generally don’t watch myself on television. I still have a copy of my episode Beat the Geeks that Michelle sent me that sits, unwatched. I find that once I see myself up there, see what I imagine other people see, I tend to get a little depressed. I don’t like my voice, my forehead, the way my hair looks tired. I don’t like the way I rush when I talk, how red my face gets when I’m excited, the way my shoulders hunch towards my neck. I don’t like the way I move, the way my chin looks when I laugh, the way I tend to tremble when I’m holding something as a prop.

The more I watch myself, the more self-conscious I get. Then I start talking myself out of what I’m doing, and the next time I’m up on stage, I can’t help but feel like I shouldn’t be there. I try not to watch myself at all anymore, as it makes me change what I’m doing, and takes some of the joy out of my work.

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Coming Up for Breath

It’s like I’m coming up for air.

I’ve been going non-stop for a couple of weeks now, and I think right now at this moment I’m having my first second of silent, spare time. The fact that I’m filling it with writing an entry instead of finishing my book (I’m reading A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, a wonderful story that I wouldn’t have appreciated if I’d read it when I was younger), or practicing piano (A life-long goal of mine is to learn the piano. I am just now getting a chance to fulfill it. Yesterday I earned a gold star when I completed “Old Woman” without having to look at my hands), shows that I’m filled with guilt over neglecting this site this month. It’s just been pretty crazy around here.

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