2002-04-22 - 12:17 a.m.

blessed unrest

Friday night I spent with RockGirl and OriginalWhiteGuy and Starling. Grilled chicken sandwiches and games. A good time. I stayed over at RockGirl's. It was not a question in her mind, it was an assumption. I wanted to go home instead. But I went over. And she couldn't sleep and kept talking and talking, and I was thinking "for once in my life I'm actually falling asleep, please just let me sleep". I'm back in a phase where RockGirl is annoying me. I'm painfully aware that I'm not in love. More on that later.

Saturday I had lunch with RockGirl and CutestBoy. I came home, and had planned on working on

my scene for acting workshop and practicing my singing. Cause, you know, you only get out of

it what you put into it. Right? Instead, Rudy dropped by and we squandered the afternoon on

Tony Hawk 3. Damn Playstation.

Saturday night we (Rudy and his friend-that-I-hate and I) went to see a play. I know the director and one of the actors. It was pretty good, but not great. One of the actors had a laugh that he kept doing that grated on my nerves. Afterwards we went next door to the Merc for a drink. We hung out and drank and talked and around 1 am I realized that I was at a table with three gay men and we were talking about Disney World. It was a total hoot.

Today, I slept in and bummed around and farted around with my computer. The show at Cow Place was cancelled, so I didn't see it this weekend. I worked on my scene some more and played guitar and read plays. Tonight I went over to RockGirl's place for dinner. I didn't want to, but I did. We watched taped episodes of Buffy and drank wine. Funny that we watched two seperate episodes where someone broke up with someone. I am a greasy little worm.

Driving home from RockGirl's tonight, I started a monologue. I just started talking. I told

a story about my relationship with my Dad. I won't go into it now, because everything I was talking about has been touched upon here at least once. I don't know why I suddenly started hashing over it all again, but I did. And I cried. Driving down Alameda at 11:30 on a Sunday night, crying about my shitty relationship with my father.

Sometimes I worry about myself.

I got this quote from ActingCoach.

No artist is pleased...there is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction; a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.

Hurmph.

Blessed unrest.

Yeah, I think I've got that bit down.