Sick Blogging
Hey kids. It's Way-Late O'clock here in Chicago... and I've already tried unsuccessfully to get to sleep tonight. I feel pretty sick, with my throat feeling very sore and my stomach totally hurting. I refuse to believe that Kim could have gotten me sick, because I don't want to believe that someone you like can get you sick without exchanging oral fluids. Or at least doing something fun... that would balance the whole "sickness" feeling.
I spent some time today cleaning my apartment. Not so much time that you can really tell I did anything, but enough time so that I felt like I spent too much time for the results I got. I hope that makes sense to someone. Anyway, my clothing is all organized: instead of being in one huge dirty clothes pile, it's in two, large dirty clothes hampers. I'm looking forward to going home one of the next two weekends to wash them for free (maybe I'll talk about money later... but it's less expensive to drive home and do all my laundry, than it is to do it in my building. No joke). I also spent a sizeable amount of time working on my wall of pictures in my front hall-way. Maybe this is why I feel like I spent too much time... because I would really take my time looking at them and figuring out which pictures I wanted up. The pictures now extend all the way from my door to the end of the entrance wall (quite a feat, if you've seen my place). I honestly can't wait to show someone... but I will have to wait, because I never invite anyone to my apartment and Ken will be the first one to see it when he visits in two weeks (probably)[not probably he'll visit, probably he'll be the first one to see it].
I still have a lot of work to do to clean this apartment. My mom thinks it will make me feel better about going out and begging for jobs... like I'll have someplace nice to come home to. Maybe she's right... but that's my mom for you. I'm sure she would also like to remedy my joblessness with some kind of cookie or a bunch of fruit (which, oddly enough, is on the way from my mom. Not the cookies, a box of various fruit [apples, oranges, and pears]). If only all the world's troubles could be fixed by cleaning your apartment or eating fruit... I'd be all set. Perhaps there's a very deep metaphor in all this that I'm missing... ? But I'll just continue to think my mom is crazy, if it's all the same to everyone else.
Huh. Just so everyone knows... I'm almost positive I just heard a gunshot. Cool.
Anyway... where was I? I think I was sick and babbling on and on about myself. Okay good... I remember now. What sucks is that tomorrow (Sunday), I'm supposed to drive out to Keith's to help him work on this thing for a golf convention Thursday. He was asked to do a couple sketches... and he asked me to help. That doesn't suck... that's really cool of him, and I'm happy to do it... what sucks is that it's raining here. And the rain is supposed to give way to snow sometime tonight. And then that frozen rain/snow mixture is going to be dumped on by more rain tomorrow morning. Best case scenario, the rain in the morning will melt the ice and snow. Worst case scenario, the rain will just add to the hazard of the ice and snow. So I kind of want to tell Keith that I don't feel comfortable risking the drive. But Sunday is the only day I can go out there and help him. So now what?
Additionally, though this has nothing to do with anything, I am most seriously out of money. Remember how I said that I had enough to get by and yadda yadda? Well... I've now run out. I'm happy that I've made it this far... but now I need money, badly. After I pay these two bills before the first of next month, I will probably have about $20-30 in my account. Which brings me back to driving home sometime soon. I have to ask my folks for money. Yeah. And I also have to get a job... which I'm hesitant to do until Ken gets here, because I don't want to have to start work while he's here on vacation.
Do you remember being happy? Being truly happy? I think some people out there probably don't have to remember it as a thing of the past... but looking through my pictures tonight confirmed that, for me, it's been a long time. I remember waking up happy... taking in that first deep breath of the day, as if drinking in the deliciousness of the air. And the air was delicious; it was clean and fresh... and it made me anticipate an exciting day full of possibilities. Now I wake up and hit the snooze... because I'd really rather be sleeping than be awake. If I have class at night, I don't want to do anything during the day... because I'd really rather not be going to class at night. The whole day seems wasted, as I try to build up the energy to force myself to go to class. It not like the classes are bad... they're just hard. And they're not fun. Somewhere along the line, someone decided to take all the fun out of improv and make it a job. A job that revels in demolishing ones ego and confidence... making one feel as stupid as is humanly possible. There seems to be a very delicate balance between "making it up as you go along" and "following the rules." For someone like me, the following rules part is the easy part. But, if you follow all the rules, there's really nothing creative that is produced as a result.
I remember feeling important. I remember times when it felt like what I did, said, or thought mattered. I think that's why a lot of people have children (which is sad, but true)... because, no matter what happens outside of your household, what you do, say, and think is very important to your children. And, the more desperate the parent is to be important (to have "power" too), the more controlling they are with their children. I think, in some ways, this period of my life is very important. I'm feeling desperation... real, honest, desperation for the first time in my life. I'll do anything to get on that stage and get noticed... but I also want to follow the rules and be good at what I'm doing, so there is a struggle between being noticed and fitting in with my group. I've actually had an improv group approach me about joining them and I haven't said anything in response yet. I need to do that... I need to tell them that I'm not interested. While I would love the experience with people who are actually going to be out DOING something (as opposed to a lot of the people I know who are, by all accounts, going nowhere), I feel like I'm better than the people in that group. They would be dragging me down... and, because of talking with Chris after Basically Awesome, I HAVE to keep in mind that I'm only as good as the people around me. If I settle for an improv group because I need the practice, I'm really doing myself a disservice.
I'm also pretty disheartened by the fact that I haven't heard back from this woman from Cartoon Network Europe. I suppose I should email her again and see if she even got my first email. I was really looking forward to the challenge of trying to write something for a cartoon... as it's a genre I've never tackled. But it's something I feel like I would do well in, because of the high amount of terrible puns and bad, situational, physical humor that permeates cartoons. I kill at that!
I just figured out what I should do. I have two and a half weeks before Ken gets here. I'm going to use that time to clean my apartment, and try to write the screenplay I started thinking about months ago. I have a very unique opportunity with all this free time to REALLY sit down and write something. I've just bought a book, Story, which is supposed to help with screenwriting... and I'm going to spend my time reading that book, writing, and cleaning. Then, after Ken leaves, I HAVE to get a stupid f--king job to just pay some bills. Hopefully I'll be able to head home some weekend, beg my folks for enough dough to make it through the first half of March (just long enough for me to get my first paycheck at the job I still don't have... but will no doubt get as soon as I lower my standards enough to take ANYTHING [I'm to that point again... great]), and I should be all set. Well... I'm glad I got that all figured out. Now, hopefully I can actually get some sleep. I feel like poop.