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Fuck me. For crying out loud.

Arrgh. So this is the third time I've tried to update my journal today. The first was erased when I accidentally unhooked the phone cord from my computer, and I just obliterated the second attempt when I tried to Google a link for it.

So anyway ...

I've been online for the last hour or so job hunting, and having my usual minimal success. I really want to get the fuck out of production already ... it's getting me nowhere and I'm sick of spending so goddamn much time just sitting on my ass and waiting for the phone to ring. Sure, I keep applying to Tela Ropa (and The East End Food Co-op, and Whole Foods), but I never fucking get any offers for anything other than production work. I want a "NORMAL" job! I'm sick of this freelance crap! I miss Facets like you wouldn't believe sometimes. "The Lunch Club," coworkers who were also friends ... feh. And that's part of why it was so great to be at The Pittsburgh Film Office this past summer, although that was really a "co-op"; three months and I was gone. My life is a series of co-ops. You Antiochians know what I'm saying.

So yea. Last night was a blurry haze of pain killers and politics. Vince and Phat Mandee rode me home afterward, and I've got to say, Vince's car is the scariest ride I've been in since high school. You could dumpster dive in it, it's so trashed. Then I'm pretty sure I went online and commiserated with khaosinc and x355955 about drugs and heartbreak and everything in between.

So now I'm sitting here, having applied to the film that Cheyenne told me about, even though I highly doubt I'd find a way to schlep to Detroit for a job, no matter how desperately unemployed I am at the moment, and wondering when and if I'll ever feel like I'm in control again. Did I ever really feel in control before? Have I ever been in control? Or am I still just doing what I'm told? H.W.S.R.N. and Monica and I could all really compare notes on this if any of the three of us felt willing to be real and honest about it ... instead I find comfort with them because they accept my situation without asking too many questions, just as I don't ask those questions of their lives. Do they notice it too? The similarities? I see them sometimes all too plainly.

Last night I walked out on Peezy. I went back to Quiet Storm after going to Lynette's thing at the Glass Factory (and feeling sad already, because I'd been stood up for lunch and then denied the chance to make my own marble) ... and I went to hug Peezy and he told me to stay away because he was smoking again. I kept asking "why?" and he kept halfway answering and halfway evading me, and then when he stood up to get more coffee I just walked out and went home. I felt bad for doing it, but in that moment I just felt so overwhelmed with sadness that I needed to get out of there.

Comments

(Anonymous)
Jan. 21st, 2004 06:57 pm (UTC)
OIC
Ahh... I couldn't make out the fine print on the top of that sign when I step out to smoke (my seven day countdown to quitting starts the moment I file my taxes)

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