You Look Like a Young Barbra Streisand

About five minutes ago, I got out of the shower.  About twenty minutes ago, I got into the shower full and baked, which was a pretty cool combination because I thought of myself as a pink manatee the moment I entered. (My shower curtain is pink and it turns the whole room pink.) I do much of my thinking in the shower, and I was thinking a lot about an in-depth conversation my roommate and I had about confidence, and being an actor. And I remembered that I had talked about secretly wanting to become a casting director.

I've always harbored a secret desire to become a casting director because let's face it, everyone would want the commercial/tv show/film to reflect the characters that they saw in their head when they read the script.  I always see the aformentioned television and I think, 'Wow I could have found someone way better to read those lines.' Bottom line is I think I'd be good at the job. Plus I have, I think, particularly good intuition about people, even if they're acting.

Anyway, so I'm in the shower, scrubbin my tush, thinking about this idea of becoming a casting director, and maybe interning with a casting director when I move to the big L.A. (it's like a bad word I guess; people don't really ever say it without spelling it out instead). Then, all of a sudden, a tragic reality strikes me like lightning::

what if ... the reason... I want to become a casting director.... .. ... is so that people will have to suck up to me?

.... .... ... . . ... . ... . . . . ...... what if that's all I've ever wanted to accomplish by being an actor, TOO ! ? ... . . . !!

Wow I Suck

I'm sorry to say that I'm already hardcore sucking at being a blogger.

It's just that not much has been going on lately.  I go to work.  I come home and go to bed.  I wake up the next day to do it again.  I understand why people get so totally bored by their lives.  This cannot be what it's about.  Right?

The truth is, I haven't been my usual cheery sarcastic self lately.  And it's not because of work, because I know that my job is my job and not my life.  I suppose it's because I don't know what I'm doing with my life.  Boo hoo, right? Everyone says that - my mom still does, and she's 57 years old.  But I guess I use that phrase so loosely.  I do know what I'm doing with my life.  Right now, I'm living with my parents trying to save up money to move somewhere else so I can hopefully pursue an acting career.

I think I dislike adulthood because there's no solid goal to work towards.  "HAPPINESS."  That's my goal.  But what the eff does that mean?  It's not, "a paper on global warming," or, "get a 4.0," or even "graduate from college."  Nothing is definitive, and boy do I like definitive.  I like to have goals to work toward, not overall LIFE ones, but just smaller ones.  So you think I'd be happy knowing that I'm working toward moving out.  Not a big philosophical life goal, but a practical, next-step goal.  So why do I feel so restless?

I Think My Blog Posts Need to Be Way Shorter

I talk too much.  Now I'm finding out I write too much.

Sorry guys.  I'll try to keep them more to-the-point.