remember that 2 weeks of my life that we all missed? Yeah, including me...
anyway, its come to a hault and I am now back in action. I'll be posting an album review tomorrow or the next day...and now that I'm back in a writer's office again, should be writing a whole fuck butt more. In keeping with that theme, I thought I would just touch base here while the writers are having a meeting and say hello.
So first of all...this new gig. So this week I am working as a writer's assistant on a show called '10 Items or Less' for TBS. It is premiering this November. Some would call it a mid season, but since TBS has never had a season of really anything before, its not. But it will be 5 episodes of what is already, after 1 day, looking like a kick ass show and project.
Anyway, I got hired as a writer's PA, but this week I am temping as the writers assistant. Today was my first real day of being in the writers room, taking notes, compiling notes, preparing everything to then go back to them so they can read these notes, and then edit their work. I know, seems cyclical and boring, but this is one hell of a vital step in the writing world. And the professional writing world is one I cannot enter until I put in my time doing any and everything I can along the way.
And believe you me, this is a dream job...because I realize that the fruits of my labor (no, not doo doo) will reward me at some point down the line.
The past few weeks have been a goddamned mad house. After returning from that wedding missing home like mad, I've spent many a day indoors and wasted. Now, the vast majority of that has to do with the fact that my good pal Scott Westerbeck was in town from Wednesday until Sunday afternoon...but it also is just because sometimes when I get depressed I go out of control. This was one of those such occassions.
Now, I know all you people out there who have seen me recently or heard from me...you carry this image of my life here and how easily things seem to be coming along. Rest assured I have been dealing with some of my demons and here's the resolve I've found in its plainest most simple terminology:
this place isn't some fantasy in People Magazine. Its a real place where real shit happens and sometimes it gets the best of you. Rarely does that happen to me, but I realized in my brief period between the wedding and Westie's arrival that I needed to get back into a real job again and give my life some form and structure. Turns out, as of recent, that I can't be trusted to get my shit done on my own. Sucks to hear I know, sucks more for me to say, but feels fantastic to realize, because now I can get back on track.
A few nights ago, Jon and I were talking on my balcony. I was telling him about this epiphany I was having that essentially was going to go like this: I don't have to be an actor. Sure I want to, but I'm never going to look at my life as a failure if that's not what I become. There is too much else out there. There is too much to live for. Sadly I never got to say all this cause Jon was drunk and clearly not listening. But that's for the better. I had the epiphany. That was all I needed. And now, when I approach a gig like this, I can't help but think that it ain't so bad after all.
I love writing, so why fight it. And if I follow these things, these things I love, I know my day in the sun will be here sooner than I can even guess.
Sorry for such a retrospective post, but it's clear I've been avoiding this blog because I just wasn't sure what to say. Cause I wasn't sure what to be. And you know what, I'm still not. I have no fucking clue. But instead of sitting here telling myself that my life and my time is getting squandered away. That I could very easily move home, marry a woman, and just give up and sell cars or insurance or something...but that's not what its all about.
Maybe its the whole sleuh of documentaries about outer-space that I've been watching, but I suddenly feel very small iin life, and am beginning to think it doesn't matter all that much.
That sounded wrong. What I meant was that I don't have to be remembered by the masses when I go like some Marlon Brando or something because I know those that know me and love me will remember me for the rest of their existence and so on and so forth. And when I juxtapose that with the fact that this planet will surely be destroyed someday, well...I sleep a little bit easier. You know?
Its like- hey brando, why'd you try so hard? The earth is just gonna explode.
But in many wayhs, he didn't try, it just happened. So I am taking the same policy.