I'm sitting here on my sofa, all soft and comfy, watching bad and beloved movies on TV and feeling lonely in a very familiar way. Yeah, it's familiar, but it's not what I've come to expect from my life. I'm lucky not to accept this as reality. I'm lucky to know of alternatives.

I'll tell you something else.

I'm loving things here, for the most part. I have found good friends, I think I'm on the right path, I am loved by people who I never thought would give me the time of day, and I can hardly believe how much I like myself these days. For the first time, none of these things seem temporary.

So how's that for self-indulgent?

Pardon me, there is a hypersweet Pit Bull romping around my feet right now. My housemate's dog. He's so cute it's disgusting.

Anyway.

I was getting sad about not working on a show, so I booked a couple of auditions this weekend. Both are for ensemble shows in San Francisco, which is a solidly obnoxious commute away from my far-out Oakland home. The first audition is for a sketch troupe, and the second is for a long-form improv troupe.

I really want to be in a show. I just miss it. I miss working on things that aren't good until you put them up in from of a discerning audience. I don't know what I miss; maybe I miss the concrete approval of being cast in something interesting and fun? I defintely miss how difficult it is, and I miss the *click* that happens when I know I'm getting it right. It's a type of physical, emotional, and creative work that gets under your fingernails, and I defintely miss it.

So. If I'm cast in either of these shows, I will most likely be moving out of my gargantuan Oakland palace, into a budget railroad apartment with a couple of friends from school. It will be a downgrade as far as housing is concerned, but likely an upgrade in terms of lifestyle, since I'll be closer to most of my friends and the stuff they plan. That concept is very freeing to me. Strange how that works out. Don't know if the move will actually happen, though.

I just thought I'd put it into words.

I guess that's why these journal entries are called "updates" instead of "works of art." This entry isn't even entertaining.

Apropos of a little: I started reading "Notes from the Underground," but soon stopped because it was a boring pile of pseudointellectual masturbation. Dostoevsky seems like a helluva party, doesn't he? Depression is so very narcissistic.

Hi! Hi. Well, this was awkward.

Bedtime. I have to get up early to dye my hair before the audition.

Wish me luck.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Snake Sake - 04.15.06

I'm not wearing any underwear! - 04.12.06

Smoke Break - 03.22.06

My Harrowing Hike from Rite Aid - 03.19.06

Right.
Write.
Whatever.
I have a paper due. - 03.16.06

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BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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