Valley Village, CA
When you messaged me last night it made me want to write a letter to you. It's awfully nice to hear from friends out of the blue, isn't it? I often wonder about you and your booming career and what it must be like to write on a television show. You've been a sort of hero to me in that regard.
I've got nothing of the like to report back. I recently had an HBO commercial audition and a subsequent callback this week. It gets harder as I get older to constantly be rejected only because it feels like so much is riding on each one now. I need to book a damn national spot, and then I would be set financially for at least a year. Oh, what freedom! Alas, such deliverance eludes me. Do you think things are "meant to be"? Or are we just living in complete chaos and happenstance? I rather think I go back and forth. Maybe that's my problem--lack of conviction one way or another.
In bigger news--there was a spider on my face this week. In my bathroom. I was sat down to pee, got up, looked in the mirror and voila. My nightmare. It was a skinny long thing that resembled my hair slightly, so all the more creepily camouflaged. I can't imagine the sight I must have been. Screaming and brushing it off (more like flailing). You see, I don't know if I've told you before, but I hate spiders. I suppose it's a fair assumption for most people honestly, but for me it's particularly true. I've been bitten before unbeknownst to me and that special treat resulted in a giant hole in my leg. Now they aren't just creepy-looking, but they're evil-doers.
It would seem far-fetched and written-for-the-sake-of-your-amusement to say that the next day in that same bathroom was another spider--thicker and inky black as it was stubby--crawling across my floor. But oh how true it is. Goddamn my small bladder. Jenna says that spiders are a good omen, so I'm trying to retrain my brain to believe that. (I think it's bullshit though because this was the day before my callback, and what the hell good did they do me?!)
Anyway, off to Europe in three weeks to celebrate ten years of living in LA. Certainly celebrating this place means getting the hell out of it. You understand. Until then, I'll be cat sitting and social media marketing my way to a few bucks. Traveling oversees when one doesn't have a steady full-time job is either the smartest or the dumbest move. On one hand, I have nothing tethering me to the states. No commitments to hold me back. On the other hand, I have no money with which to make said trip comfortable and honestly, feasible. But what do we say? Fuck it. I've got to experience the world and actually LIVE my life while I have it, no? Money shit can be sorted later. Gotta leap.
Time to wake my roomie from her nap and get some dinner.