I am not now, nor have I ever been a drug addict

Though it's a little soon to crow, I think I should announce that I HAVE A JOB!!! Which is awesome for several reasons: 1) Duh, 2) Unemployment sucks, 3) Being poor sucks, 4) It's a really good job even if it's not in film, 5) I'm over-explaining this. Yay me! So that was fast. I didn't even have time to enjoy my unemployment checks that were three times what I got last year when I was unemployed for eight months instead of one. Oh the irony. But all of this job-having could come to a screeching halt if for some reason I fail the stringent criminal background check or 90 day hair follicle drug test (which I just took this morning. Goodbye huge clump of hair, though I'm glad they didn't rip you out of my head and merely snipped.)

Some things they might find in my criminal background:

1. A fix-it ticket for a busted headlight on my car. It wasn't supposed to go on my permanent record and at the time I didn't even know the headlight was busted. But you never know how thorough their detectives might be.

2. A possibly thrown-out parking ticket for when I was towed most unfairly on a day they randomly decided to pave a small section of street without informing its residents. The jury's still out on whether that's going to happen, because you best believe I fought that mothereffer.

3. I stole a Milky Way candy bar on my last day at Blockbuster. It's sort of an unofficial tradition that I probably shouldn't share with outsiders, but still. When you consider how much they jack up their prices on candy and how much of my paycheck they got back for said candy, I earned that Milky Way. Call it a perk, if you will.

As for drugs they might find in my hair, I was a little bit more paranoid:

1. Birth control pill. You never know what that might show up as in the test. Mistakes happen all the time. Just consider the misunderstood poppy seed muffin.

2. I had a cold recently, so Nyquil, Dayquil (generic, but still), Airborne (again generic).

3. Evidence of what one might consider an "excess" of merlot about once a month for the past three months. Definitely not an abusive user, but you never know what they're judging you on. When I asked my friends if this might be an issue, they replied that if they never hired someone who had an occasional drink, no one would ever be hired. Except for Mormons maybe (one of the unexpected downsides of leaving the church perhaps.)

I'm hoping that that's all that could be construed as less than upstanding citizenship behavior. Unless they find out about my lost year in Bangkok...

I may or may not have been a drug smuggling mime

after my passport and wallet were stolen on a journey to find myself.

To celebrate having a job, I went to the Crenshaw (South Central) mall. Not exactly Rodeo Dr., but still an outlet to spend my not-yet-hard-earned money. I am not a shoppaholic by any means. I never get the urge to shoe shop and I would much rather watch a movie and eat chocolate to console myself than indulge in 'retail therapy.' And spending money is usually like pulling teeth. But today was fun. I bought a fabulous new pair of shoes (both fun and practical), some random stuff at Wal-Mart, and finally invested in nice, grown-up unmentionables. The Hanes six-packs from Target I usually purchase get the job done, but make you feel as feminine as a one-eyed tree-stump.

I googled 'poor kid playing basketball'

and this cake came up. I want it.

On a completely unrelated note, I also bought a basketball. Why? Well it was my Toy for Tots, a requirement for attending Ellen's Christmas giveaway show next Tuesday. I figure a basketball gets kids to exercise, and can be used for singular or group recreation allowing my unknown poor protege to make friends and stay fit. Plus, it's unisex. I played basketball as a kid and now some unfortunate child can get the same joy out of it that I did. And if that kid happens to grow up to be the next Kobe Bryant (only not an asshole), then I will feel directly responsible for donating his/her first basketball. And if they happen to seek me out and reward me financially for inspiring their dreams, then so be it. Now I'm feeling rather pleased with myself that I spent 8 bucks on the poor and cough cough bucks on fancy underoos. I also contributed greatly to the economy of this relatively impoverished area, so kudos for me as well!

Inspirational Montage

Having been out of a job for over two weeks now, I'd have to say unemployment is a lot less scary this time around. I've learned that the world is not going to end just because I don't have a steady income right now (though having my unemployment check be three times what it was last year helps with that fear, plus I'm not blowing my savings on a whirlwind trip to far-off continents). My skin is a lot thicker and my persistence is more persistent. I've learned to get over my fear of shamelessly asking what few contacts I have for hookups (job hookups, not the booty kind). That's the secret. As a woman, and a non-confrontational woman at that, I have a hard time asking for help. I don't want to be a burden and bother busy people. But it never hurts to ask. I've discovered that most people love being able to help. It makes them feel useful and validates that they've truly made it in their own careers. I only wish I'll be in that position someday to verify my theory.

Ideally me in ten years. The Mary of course. Or the Tina in my case.

"Do you have some sort of businesswoman's special?"

A former/current internship supervisor of mine called me today regarding an inquiry e-mail I had sent a few weeks back. I knew she was busy and didn't take it personally that she hadn't responded. In truth, I had forgotten about it. I'm a bit of an out-of-sight, out-of-mind type of person sometimes. But we talked for thirty minutes, which is hours in entertainment industry time. She didn't know of any positions in particular, but she was willing to pass my resume along to people who might. I appreciated that, like you wouldn't believe. Then she bestowed upon me all of her hard-earned pearls of wisdom about being unemployed in this business, never giving up even if you're forced to take a non-industry job just to keep a roof over your head, to network my ass off, and keep writing no matter what it costs.

A lot of which I sort of knew, and everyone tells me constantly. But to hear it from a mentor who knows exactly what you're going through and is willing to help, was just what I needed right now. Not to mention everyone needs a little encouragement and positive reinforcement from time to time. Right now I'm in a holding pattern regarding another opportunity. As my friend so eloquently stated, "My whole life is a holding pattern." We're thinking of making bumper stickers. But I refuse to count my un-hatched chickens or run around with my head cut off, putting all my eggs in one basket (so many chicken metaphors, why?) And even though it's not in the film industry, I feel better knowing that I'm not giving up by putting a roof over my head. I can always write no matter what I'm doing to pay the bills.

Me now.

So with her support, I'm going to do my damnedest to not let her down. I'm going to make a writing schedule, go to every networking event I can scare up, maintain every contact I have, and think outside the box regarding jobs I should apply to. Even if this particular job doesn't come through (and it might not because I have a tendency to ramble, and I discovered after the interview that I had lipstick on my teeth), I'll be ok. I can just picture myself now standing in front of a green-screened American flag waving as a John Williams orchestra crescendos in the background.

Not me at all, but you get the picture.

And hopefully the pictures livened up this admittedly dull post.

Unemployment the Sequel

Today marks day one of my auspicious return to unemployment. After working the last twelve days straight, it's nice to finally have a break. Six hours of relaxing in my pjs, watching Buffy, and eating chocolate in bed. Sounds like heaven, but already I'm bored and feeling discouraged. I've been dutifully checking job listings, updating my resume, and making a list of anyone I've ever known who might know of a job somewhere in the entertainment field (excluding the porn industry, though if it comes to it I think I could whip out a pretty solid adult script that doesn't sacrifice story or production value).

Before Edward, Bill, and Eric, there was Angel...

However I don't know if I have it in me to do this again. Unemployment just sucks the soul out of you. It takes all the joy out of lounging around, doing nothing. Usually this is my favorite thing to do (or not do rather). But the best thing about doing nothing is that you're doing it in place of something you're supposed to be doing instead. If you have nothing better to do, then it gets old fast. Hopefully this break from the work force will allow me to be more creative. I got to work on a lot of scripts last time around, so maybe it will be a good thing. Though I'm not so good with time management if I have no structure in my life.

One of my favorite things, a good Irish pub.

O'Brien's in Santa Monica is a damn good one.

If I have to be unemployed, I'm glad my last job ended with a bang. Between the awesome Irish pub night, stacks of free candy, amazing co-workers, and general satisfaction of doing a job I enjoy, this was a fantastic experience. Our big blowout wrap party was last night. Though it may have seemed like a typical schmooze and booze (I call trademark), a lot more was going on than just drinking absurdly pink cocktails and eating fancy schmancy hors-d'oeuvres. There was a palpable aura of relief in the air after a hectic two weeks of long days, several disgruntled and often unintelligent guests, sprinting towards the finish line. It was bittersweet, finally getting to bond with many people I never got to talk to even though we worked side by side for weeks. Good times were had, good contacts were made, musical sitcoms about a great pumpkin-sized tape ball we named Janice were conceived.

Meet Janice, forged from the tape that kept all the

cables and electrical wires in place so klutzes like me won't trip.

It was a fantastic night on the rooftop of Santa Monica place. But I'm sad to think I may not see some of those people again. It was kind of like the end of camp. Maybe we'll all be back next year, but many of us are looking for something just as awesome, but a little more permanent. So that takes us back to today. And massive amounts of Buffy while I wait for a phone call or e-mail from Lionsgate or NBC that will probably never come. Sigh. But at least we'll always have Santa Monica...

The lovely ladies of the Registration Department.

I'm the one whose face matches her shirt. Victim of Caucasian Glow.

Hypothetically Stressing Out: Utah Edition

In my grand tradition of paranoid over-analyzing and obsessive excuse/list-making, I've decided to compile a pro/con list for the unlikely situation in which I land a job working for the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah. Keep in mind that I haven't even applied and most likely won't, given the outcome of this list, laziness/procrastination/forgetfulness, and my general fear of new and scary situations. But my co-worker planted the seed in my brain and now I can't stop thinking about 'what if...' The main pros are that it's a job I'd be perfect for, having volunteered twice for both the Newport Beach Film Festival, and the Sacramento French Film Festival, and worked two years in a row for the American Film Market, have an extensive background in customer service, and love seeing famous people. Not to mention it would probably set me up for life with a real, permanent job when Sundance ends.

It is kind of pretty there though, and Park City

is more like Colorado than Salt Lake City...

The downside, and it's a mother-effing doozy, is that it would involve packing up and moving my oh-so-fabulous life (note the sarcasm) here in Los Angeles, for the cold, dreary, oppressed world of Park City, Utah. I hate Utah. I've been several times, having gobs of family that reside in that cursed state, so It's not just blind hatred. The worst thing about Utah is that it's not California. I'm a huge California snob, not to mention my immediate family and friends are all here. It would mean leaving my beloved home state for only three months, but is three months really worth that big of a transition?

Pros
Networking
Famous People (yay!)
Interesting new experience (I like those. Sometimes)
Break from L.A. (I like living here, but this town seriously gets to you)
Change is good (according to Rafiki)
Amazing on resume (Like, epically amazing)
Could lead to even better jobs afterward (arguable)
Perfect for it (never have I been more qualified for a position in my life)
Not great salary, but lots of hours
Passion for independent film, yada yada (Can't let that expensive film degree go to waste!)
Maybe opportunity to see some of those movies for free? (Please?)
Good timing (As this job is almost over)
It's a job.

Cons
Utah (Not CA)
Utah (Surrounded by Mormons when I'm headed for Outer Darkness)
Utah (So far away...)
Packing up entire life just for 3 months (if it were longer/permanent I'd be more gung ho. Tee hee, gung ho. Your mom's a gung ho.)
Giving up my sweet bachelorette pad
I hate moving (no, like seriously. The main reason I live in South Central is because I don't want to move again)
Only 3 months (big commitment for short amount of time)
Have to start over to find job/apt. in LA. (it was too easy the first time around. Now not so much)
It's freezing there and I don't even own a raincoat (meaning shopping when I have no $)
Miss both Thanksgiving and Christmas (I LOVE THANKSGIVING!!!! And what is Christmas without your family?)
Miss family (but spend time with Utah family pro/con)
Miss friends, some of which just moved to LA. (I can't ditch them, can I?)
Long hours and weekends (Momma needs her 'me time'.)
I'd still be poor. (And I'm so tired of being poor)
No benefits/insurance (Not that I have any now. But still, I gotta get me some of that eventually)
Updating resume when not in job search mode (Harder for me than it sounds)
Logistical nightmare and I'm afraid of those. (ie finding an apartment, transportation, etc.)
Bad timing (the job starts right after this one, but interviewing, etc. will be tricky during the Market)
I'd rather find a full-time, year-round job. (Is that too much to ask, Universe?)

I may still apply, but then I'll just freak out about actually getting the job (which I probably won't) and then I'll get pissed because I'm perfect for the job and there's pretty slim pickins in these parts. Now is the part where y'all say, get over it Hutch. Either suck it up and update your resume or quit whining and making excuses.

Intercourse, Falsehoods, and Voyeurism

Tonight I got to feel like a bigshot, with my name on "the List" and a comped ticket to see a screening of one of IFTA's 30 Most Significant Independent Films. (Check out the full list. I disagree with some of them, but these kinds of things are always subjective). I dressed up for the occasion, projecting the image of a successful businesswoman in my wrap dress, trench coat, and pointy black heels. I was hoping to network a little, though knowing my crippling social awkwardness, I doubted that I would finally meet my stepping stone to stardom. (Spoiler alert, I didn't...) The fancy attire was also a tribute to one of my favorite shows of all time, How I Met Your Mother. If you haven't heard, today was International Suit-Up Day, so I had to bring it.

To be honest, the only reason I went to the screening was because it was sadly undersold and I was filling a seat. Plus, to quote Ally Sheedy in the Breakfast club, "I didn't have anything better to do." When I arrived (rather over-dressed I might add), the mid-sized theater was maybe 20% filled. I know it's a Wednesday night, and who wants to see an older movie on a Wednesday night? But still, this movie was absolutely breathtaking on the big screen. Did I mention that it was Sex, Lies, and Videotape (thus my clever, misleading title)? If you haven't seen Steven Soderbergh's brilliant debut film, then Netflix the crap out of it right this instant. I saw it for the first time a couple years ago. I probably got it from the now bankrupt Blockbuster (my home away from home for many a-year and a-paycheck), and watched it on my 15 inch laptop screen. Like most DVDs, I probably watched it in increments, like chapters in a book, depending on my schedule. I remember liking it, but it was pretty much forgotten as soon as it hit the return bin.

Obligatory Photo. I feel like blogs with photos are easier to read.

I used to think the format didn't matter when you watched a movie. As long as the movie is good, it should hold up on any size screen, no 3-D, high-def, or surround sound necessary. I still believe this to be true. But seeing Sex, Lies, and Videotape in the theater made all the difference in the world. It's a dialogue-heavy, character-driven art house film, which means it's not for everyone or every mood. But with a movie that relies so much on subtext and incredibly powerful performances, every nuance was magnified. My attention wasn't diverted by IM, homework, the phone, roommates, or the world around me. I was completely immersed in that world. And it reminded me of why I got into this business to begin with.

After the nightmare of unemployment, and now my enjoyable but ultimately non-creative day job in an office, I've started to lose focus on my passion. And it took Steven Soderbergh's voyeuristic exploration of a drifting married couple and a mysterious outsider to make me pay attention. So the moral of the story is, see movies in the theater if you can afford it (which I usually can't), because it monumentally impacts your viewing experience.

On a lighter note...

Oh doom and gloom, my life sucks whatever. The good news is, I have a plan and the means with which to accomplish it. Part of my job entails laminating hours on end. Laminating means touching hot plastic which is both painful and a pain in the ass. The upside of this repetitive task, is that I have discovered that my fingerprints have been slowly disappearing! Soon, I'll have no individual identifying marks whatsoever!

I should have noticed this gift when they tried to fingerprint me to work for the Census as an official government official, but had trouble since my fingers barely made an impression. But now, I'm certain they are almost completely burned off, just like Will Smith in Men in Black. Because if there is anyone I identify with, it's Will Smith in Men in Black. "N.Y.P.D., means I will knock yo' punkass down!" Right? (though it always bothered me that he didn't know 'knock' starts with a 'k' and not an 'n.' But whatevs. He still managed to save the planet.)

My first instinct, naturally is to become a world class jewel thief. Detectives will dust for prints, but HAH! There will be none to find! And I will be sipping margaritas on the beach, mamasita! Or I could become a top secret, super undercover assassin. I could eliminate my target, leave the weapons, and it could never be traced back to me! Because who would believe that I, the very picture of Mormon wholesomeness, would be capable of such a thing? Or I could be a rodeo clown! Though I'm not sure how my lack of fingerprints will help me there. Plus there are few things I hate more than rodeos and clowns, so being a rodeo clown would be the stupidest plan ever.

But the point is, I am now invincible! Ahahahahahaha~ (evil cackle...)

Targeted Nonsheltered Outdoor Location Enumerator

This is my new official job title. I will be working for the 2010 Census, at least for a few days next week counting the homeless in soup kitchens, shelters, and by the freeway. It's basically a trial run to see if you qualify to be a regular Census taker. I heard back from my last interview finally and although they decided to go with someone else, they genuinely seemed to like me and wanted me to keep calling back to see if they had a position available. This gives me hope. And at least for now I'm getting paid so I'm not quite as freaked out as I would be without the Census. But when the following instructions are included in your training, one has to ask oneself if it's worth it:

1. Be sure to check under your car to see if there is someone hiding, waiting to charge your ankles.

2. Do not wear anything around your neck that could be used to strangle you.

3. If you witness any illegal activities, ie drug use, prostitution, gang activity, use a secret code you've developed with your team members and walk away.

4. Wear clothes you don't mind getting dirty and comfortable athletic shoes in case you have to run (!)

5. Assume that a "person experiencing homelessness"'s dog is not friendly.

6. Do not carry a pocketknife, or any kind of weapon even if the other guy is probably packing.

At first, I was nervous and very uncomfortable with the thought of initiating conversation with people I'd always been taught to avoid. Yes they are human beings who have fallen through the cracks of the system and suffered countless and unfathomable hardships. But it still doesn't make one anxious to go out in the middle of the night by the freeway and ask them their name, sex, and race.

After my training sessions the past few days, however, I'm kind of looking forward to this assignment. I'm still scared, but kind of curious to see what will happen. If nothing else, it will be fascinating fodder for my writing, not to mention a much-needed paycheck. I just would prefer not to get shanked in pursuit of either though.

Positive Thinking vs. Lowered Expectations

Apparently there was an earthquake in Southern California this morning around 4am. Luckily, I didn't feel a thing and slept right through it even though earthquakes are my biggest phobia. However, I believe that subconsciously I was aware that I was in the middle of an earthquake and that is why I had a horrible nightmare which exposed all of my inner anxiety. I dreamed that I couldn't even get a job at a donut shop and woke up crying. This was a horrible way to start the day. I was also stressed because I've been falling behind on the one job I'm getting paid to do, reading scripts.

Fortunately all of these horrible omens canceled each other out because I got a call this morning to interview at an independent production company in North Hollywood. For someone who hasn't had an interview in over a month and my back-up plan of working for the Census is becoming more and more unlikely, this was extremely exciting.

I went to the interview at 1:30pm and automatically knew this was the place I wanted to work. It was small enough that I could get experience working with lots of different roles in film development and production, but big enough to have influence. They deal with all aspects of the entertainment industry, music, television, and film, and are growing everyday. I would be a receptionist, but eventually I could become an assistant and who knows where that could lead. The money is decent, but I wouldn't even care because it's such an incredible start to my career. And when I was about ready to give up and work at Ralph's and do some kind of unpaid (slave labor) internship, this was an even more incredible opportunity.

I think the interview went really well. Everyone always says to think positively. But I'm afraid to let myself really want this and get attached to the fantasy of not only getting paid at a steady job, but a job that will take me where I want to go. I've been burned before by expecting too much. I'm trying to send good, hopeful vibes out into the universe since there's nothing I can do now to alter their decision. But I feel like I should just forget about the whole thing and keep applying elsewhere. If they call, then great. But I should prepare for the worst. I hate to be negative but I hate being disappointed even more.

Shmoozing Part 2

So I worked up my courage to venture forth without my trusty wingwoman, Carli, and went to the Screenplay Lab mixer at the Regent Beverly Wilshire. I was pretty late, having gotten caught up finishing the coverage on an impossible to read cockney heist film, but eventually made it out the door looking fabulous. I've driven by the Reg. Bev. Wil. several times but never actually been inside. It is gorgeous! Oh the doormen and the marble-floored lobby, it's to die for.

Anyway, the event was a lot smaller than last night and the music wasn't quite as loud. I got myself a nice glass of wine. This place was so fancy there was actually a list to choose from instead of just red or white. I tried to look like I actually knew what I was looking for but pretty much just chose the cheapest one. Bless the bartender's heart, she went through the motions of letting me taste it before pouring the whole glass. I'm sure she knew I was poor and ignorant. But I swished and sniffed and pretended I knew what I was doing. God I felt like a fraud. But I bet everyone feels that way in this town.

I sort of walked around a little before running into a very cool guy named Travis, also a screenwriter. We talked for nearly two hours about screenwriting, the Oscars, French New Wave, crockpots, the us'. I probably should have tried to circulate and meet lots of different people, but I figured, hey this guy is cool. What are the chances of finding someone else just as cool? So I decree that this night was a success. Even though at one point I felt so dizzy I almost fainted right on the marble floor. Bad combination of not wearing heels often enough and only having a spoonful of peanut butter for dinner. Overall a big improvement from last night. I think they do these mixers every month, so we'll see how it goes next time.

Shmoozing

So I went to a shmooze-fest tonight, otherwise known as a networking mixer. Luckily my friend was there to introduce me to some of her friends. If I had gone sans wingwoman, I probably would have wanted to shoot myself in the head. Picture a dark, overcrowded, obnoxiously trendy bar in Beverly Hills with the bad music cranked up so loud you can barely carry on a conversation. Why do people think this is fun? I only go so I can potentially meet people to help me with my career or god willing people that don't totally suck to hang out with. Too bad I'm not as outgoing as I once was. And too bad I'm too poor to afford social lubricant juice (ie vodka tonics or classy red wine). I'm going to another mixer tomorrow night, one specific to the film industry. Hopefully it will be more productive than trying to shout small talk at people I barely know who are totally in my personal bubble space and pretend that I can hear their most likely insipid responses.

Wow, this sounded super bitter and anti-social. I apologize. I like people. I just would rather be able to converse with them instead of stare awkwardly at my fingernails after we run out of things to shout about in the first five minutes. Oh well, we'll see what tomorrow's shmoozing at the Reg. Bev. Wil. (Pretty Woman reference!!) will bring.

First Paid Writing Gig

I'm finally getting paid to write! Sure, it's a pittance that will barely cover the cost of my fix-it ticket (ugh, that's a whole other nightmare). And sure it's temporary, under the table, and under someone else's name. But the point is, I'm finally getting paid to write! I'm reading scripts and writing coverage for a screenwriting competition. It's exciting because it's something I used to do for free! It's even more exciting when the only income I've been able to muster in the past 3-4 months has been from cleaning my mom's kitchen cabinets. Any writing is good practice for me, and I'm especially happy to be doing writing for the film industry in any capacity.

Fox-y Ladies

Today I am going to "do lunch" at Fox. As in 20th Century Fox. I've always hated the phrase "do lunch," but right now I am completely embracing any and all Hollywood phoniness. And I'm suuuper excited in a completely lame, star-struck way. A friend of mine is temping there in the casting department and has already seen quite a few celebrities meandering through the halls. (One well-known TV star even asked my friend where she could breast pump, ka-razy!).

I'm hoping that after our sophisticated and glamorous lunch, I'll be able to wander around the lot, dodging security guards behind bungalows and fake New York brownstones. I'm not going to lie. A little part of me is hoping that once I'm actually there in the Promised Land (ie a genuine film studio), a big producer or even actor will approach me and either offer me a fabulous job, and/or perhaps their hand in marriage. I'll probably turn down any marriage offers I receive today, but you bet your ass I'm going to jump at the chance to work for Fox.

Clearly I'm aware that I'll be lucky if I even catch a glimpse of someone marginally famous, much less someone who is ready to hand me my dream on a silver platter. Still, it's nice to know that it's not completely and utterly inconceivable. Hey, it's more likely to happen on the Fox lot than if I were to stick to my normal routine of lounging in bed in my PJs, watching silly sitcoms on the computer.

Competition

I can be a pretty competitive person, especially when it comes to middle school dodgeball, trivia-based board games, and chugging contests of any kind. But right now, I'm feeling the strain of competing against thousands upon thousands of others in the Los Angeles job market right now. Someone must be getting these jobs that I keep applying to. Someone who is more intelligent, more creative, more outgoing, and more experienced than me. Even jobs classified as 'entry-level' are being filled by people with ten years or more in that specific field. It's incredibly frustrating.

I found a television writing fellowship for ABC that sounds absolutely ideal for my situation. The opportunity to learn from real writers and potentially be hired by one of the biggest networks in America is absolutely incredible. The salary is outrageously good too. It doesn't start until next year and I wouldn't even find out until November if I got in. The deadline is July 1st, and already I'm starting to panic. I have plenty of time, and I know I could probably knock out a decent spec script of a sitcom by then. But knowing that there are only eight spots and who knows how many hundreds of applicants is making my head explode.

My confidence isn't too high after being turned down by a different ABC internship last Spring, and not even receiving a big fat "NO" from an NBC writing program in the Fall. I'm really hoping that in both cases it was because I screwed up on some logistical detail, forgetting to sign something, misreading directions, that sort of thing. But of course there's that voice in the back of my mind that says "You're just not good enough." It also tells me to set fire to things, but that's a whole separate batch of neuroses.

Hopefully I've gotten better over the past year. I've been collaborating on a feature script with a friend, in addition to writing random things on my own. Nothing really worth mentioning, but the practice has been beneficial. I hope. Anyway, I feel exactly like I did when I attempted to apply to the USC screenwriting program and had a nervous breakdown before I could even finish the application. The competition is fierce and brutal and painful and all manner of unpleasant synonyms for bad. Especially when what you're being judged on is creativity, which is completely subjective to begin with. It's like giving birth to a baby you think is beautiful, then sending it off to be ripped apart by pageant judges who blame you for producing such a piece of crap child. (Too much?)

I think I'm a decent writer. But I don't think I'm good enough to beat out hundreds of others who have dedicated their lives to writing and have a greater natural skill to boot. I'm not looking for sympathy or ego-boosters. I'm just saying that it's overwhelming to have a way to attain your dream dangling right in front of your face, and to know there's only the most infinitesimal chance it could be yours. All I can do is write the best script I can and hope to god everyone else applying comes down with mono. Or leprosy. Leprosy would be better. They can't type if their fingers fall off...