Maybe less than a year ago I was the kind of person who rolled her eyes as she passed the self-help aisle of the bookstore. They all seemed like the same: “Why Don’t I Feel Normal?”: A Guide To Helping You Feel Normal.
Now I’m that girl grabbing those books. Reading them. Using a pen. What?! I don’t write in any book, and now I’m doing self-help homework? Like a total girl.
[Pamela is exhibiting negative behavior about herself. She has recently learned that she’s not supposed to do that, like when she calls herself a dork, a klutz, a spaz, a geek, a nerd, a loser, a freak, a weirdo, or scrunches up her face after receiving a compliment. But if she stops doing that, who will she become?] Continue reading
To live in Los Angeles, you must have a thick skin. Just about every single day someone is going to turn you down. Someone is going to reject you. Sometimes entire companies take a quick glance at you and say, “No.” You want to know why. The truth is, there’s no real “Why.” Sure, they say you’re too this or your too that. As an actor you might be too tall, too fat, too skinny, too funny, not Hispanic enough. As a writer you might be too edgy, too political, too soft, too precious, or not manly enough. The truth is you just weren’t the right piece for the right hole at the moment. It’s nothing to do with you; it’s just business. Nobody’s trying to knock you down or hurt you. Everybody’s just doing their job. Everybody wants to do whatever that day isn’t going to get them fired. Taking a chance on you that day just might get them fired. So you’ll have to wait for someone who either loves taking risks or doesn’t realize that you might be one.
Absolutely everybody in this town is faking it. We all think we are frauds and we’re terrified we’ll be found out at any moment. To cover this up, we act like we don’t need you, don’t need him and we certainly don’t need them. Everybody’s seen everything before. Everybody knows everyone. You can’t bring up a topic — it’s already been covered to death. You can’t try and surprise anyone — there are no more surprises.
For those of you who have been staying up nights fretting over the state of my laptop, it is now fixed. I have some very smart, very reliable friends. Very patient friends that still talk to me after I call from another country demanding tech support at four in the morning. Friends that miss their lunches to help me out. Good friends.
To counter my good luck with the laptop, my printer splintered, and a piece of it is now no longer attached. It had a paper jam and then popped. And my iMac now likes to crash once a day, whenever I decide to use the stupid dial-up.
I know. Fascinating.
high school confessions and lost muscle tone
I got home yesterday to find a package on my table. No, it wasn’t the latest book I’d ordered from Amazon. It wasn’t CD’s. It wasn’t a friendly package from a Squishy reader. It was Tae-Bo Live Advanced 3. Billy apparently decided to continue the series.
I don’t have the time to spend an hour seeing Billy’s latest device of torture. I just don’t.
i reach the breaking point and start dishing out career advice
I don’t know exactly when it was that I became a big wuss in my life. Maybe I always have been. Maybe I’ve always just been a big pushover. I’ve always had people tell me that I was too nice. “Oh, you’re too nice,” they say.
I’m tired of being too nice. I really am. I just want to be a bitch. Just once. I want to be a bitch with fangs and blood and nails like talons and I want to growl and hiss and make people back the fuck off me.