No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2003-05-23 - 12:14 a.m.

bitching about the good things

I'm making one of my increasingly infrequent dashes through the house. I'm home. It's kind of odd that it's odd to be home. I'm very, very often down at ShyGirl's place. And then I drive home in the morning, and shower, and catch up on email (an average of 15-20 people every day are aware that my penis is too small, but are willing to help), and then head out again. Today I went in to work at the bike shop, was forced to take an hour lunch break in the middle of a three-hour training shift (duh!) and then sold a pair of shoes to a bicycle cop.

A day or two ago I started work on a new screenplay. I got a page and a half out, and I have no idea when I'll get a chance to work on it again. This busy thing is very cool and alternately sucks ass. I'm used to a life of leisure. It's an adjustment to having all my time spoken for. Maybe I should have added a job or a girlfriend to my life. Both at once is discombobulating.

Why, oh why am I complaining about all the good things that are happening? Well, I reserve the right to complain about the job, because it's a job, but the pay is crap. I'll be scraping by on this amount of money.

And dammit! I still haven't seen Matrix. ShyGirl and I were going to see it last night, but she threw her back out, and could barely sit through dinner, much less a movie. I was going to catch a matinee today, but the mandatory lunch break threw off my schedule and I didn't have time. I won't have time tomorrow, either. I dunno.

I really should be reading a bike magazine, or an acting book. I desperately need to get through some of both.

At least tonight I sleep in my own bed (though without my cute snuggly girlfriend). Tomorrow will have to sort itself out.

Peace, out.

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