Of Skype'ing, Writing, and a Monkey's Uniform...a play in three acts (just kidding)

My most recent spate of meaningless hours of idleness has been broken by the refreshing addition of Skype to my home. Video calls, folks...it's the wave of the future. Now all we need are those machines from "The Jetsons" that automatically get you out of bed, dressed, and fully made-up so that you're always ready for a caller to get a peek into your home life.

Sadly, since we don't currently have these fabulous machines, I am pretty sure I'm going to be keeping my Skype contact list fairly short, as there are only a handful of people out there I don't mind seeing me with unwashed hair, glasses, and sweats. It ain't pretty.

My first Skype experiment was with my friend Michele, who was gracious enough to be my guinea pig and close enough in distance that there was nary a sound lag or vocal distortion to be had. An excellent first try, saved from being a bit uncomfortable by my husband having the presence of mind to avoid walking behind me after he stepped out of the shower. These are the types of close calls that Skype users will have to take care to avoid if this thing is gonna catch on...at least among us normal peeps who aren't trying to "sho u penis bals" - a rather touching request an unknown user sent to me before I figured out how to change my privacy settings.

The second Skype was with Brad's sister and nieces - a surprise for him, as he wasn't aware they had a web cam...it was great to see the smile it brought to his face, to actually be able to see those little girls fighting over the right to talk to Uncle Brad instead of just hearing the ruckus. We're talking full-fledged face grabs and body slams here, folks - Brad's a well-loved guy. :D

And yesterday I Skype'd with my sister and niece, with whom I discovered the 21st century version of peek-a-boo, diving out of frame and jumping back in from unexpected directions. It was awesome. I'm looking forward to surprising my grandfather later today when my sister has him over for dinner, but I'm completely ready for him to believe he's looking at a video clip of me.

I've also been trying (TRYING) to fill my hours with writing projects...but it's been difficult. What I thought of as my great idea for a novel is beginning to look more like a lengthy short story - as much as I read books, I seem to have trouble taking the time to write in full-blown novelistic style...too much information makes it read like a short story. We'll see if I can fix this.

And last, I have, of course, been desperately trying to find a paying "day job" of sorts to help feed our dog and put vodka in the freezer...and the economy has come back with a heaping round of "not enough jobs!" and "you're both under and over qualified!" It's fun.

You see, having been a struggling actor/writer for the past 87 years, I don't really have many marketable skills to shop around. So I'm not qualified to do things like bake or teach or sell overpriced houses in a depressed market. But I'm also too old and experienced to get any of the entry-level BS jobs that are vaguely floating around out there...they'd much prefer to hire someone younger and dumber who they can feasibly keep around for a few years. I'm not sure how they automatically realize that a nearly 33-year-old woman who's Mensa-qualified would jump their donkey ship at the first sign of a better paying "REAL" job - I guess someone must have warned them.

One of the interviews I had was to be a trolley guide at an outdoor mall. Yes, I would have the grand honor of narrating the same 1/2 mile course of track six times every hour to a squabbling bunch of tourists whilst wearing a suit resembling something between an old-timey elevator operator and one of those little monkeys that dances around collecting money while a gypsy man plays the hurdy-gurdy.

You know what I'm talking about.

Well guess what? The interview went great. And I didn't get the job. Because, clearly, they had some magical inkling that this was MAAAAYYYYYBE not my ultimate career choice.

So I guess what I'm saying is that my ultimately pessimistic view of life and the job market is primarily at fault for me not getting one of these classy entry-level peon jobs. And the more I get rejected, the further down the slope of negativity I go.

I've decided, then, that I really should just finish writing my GD brilliant debut novel(la?), get it sold, and watch millions of people gobble it up and ask me for seconds. Because that should be easier, right?

I'm starting to think it might be. God help us all. Except Paris Hilton.

I'm gonna go Skype...at least it's free!

The Prodigal Procrastinator Returns!

Hello, gang!

I'm baaaaaaaack!

I realize I have been a wee bit absent over the past several months - I always procrastinate when it comes to my writing (for shame), but 8 whole months is sort of ridiculous. At least I have a good excuse.

MARRIAGE!

That's right...I got hitched - believe it or not, it happened. Last Saturday, May 8th, 2010, in front of about 110 of our friends and family, my wonderfully amazing Brad promised to walk the dog every morning for the rest of our lives (with the exception of weekends). Oh, and also, love, honor, and cherish me, all that good stuff.

It was amazing. It was spectacular. It was expensive.

It was also time-consuming. So much so that I've written next to nothing since September - and not just on this blog. No screenplays, maybe three lines of my novel, and only a handful of restaurant reviews for examiner.com (which I may kick to the curb anyway, for lack of inspiration and reward).

Today is my first official day back to reality. We mini-mooned last week away, then took the weekend to recuperate - vacationing is hard work, yo.

But here I am...and as I sat in front of my computer all day, wasting time on Facebook (damn you, Family Feud!!!) and looking at wedding pics, it started to hit me:

I am just a tiny bit lost.

Not in a literal sense - anyone who knows me knows I am a human compass and an ace navigator on road trips - but in the sense that I've sort of come to the realization that I'm a little lacking in the focus/drive/goals department.

Acting was so much of my life for so long - and I have a couple of opportunities to get back into that world. But do I want to? TBD. I love it...but it's so heartbreaking. And I've come to terms with the fact that chances are very, VERY slim that it will ever be a career that can actually support me. And if you think I'm waiting tables or folding t-shirts or answering phones for people who are way dumber than me for the rest of my life, you've got another think coming.

Writing is a passion. I love it. But it ain't all that much easier to break into than acting is...and screenwriting means staying in this cesspool called Hollywood, with its black heart and fake smiles - and the traffic. Ooooh, that traffic.

But what else is there for me? I'm reeling in my chair, just trying to figure out what sounds less painful to me - going back to school for a teaching (?) degree, or digging into a field like real estate or travel? And the worst part of it is, I'm no longer a spring chicken. I'm not that sprightly and attractive 20-something go-getter that every company wants to hire because she's smart and young. It's not easy to consider starting anew at the ripe old age of 32, in any field. Can I really go back to being someone's assistant - someone who is likely younger than I am? And have I already mentioned how utterly annoying it is to work for someone who I could outsmart on any standardized test, any day of the week, possibly blindfolded? This isn't hubris here, people, this is rock-hard reality. There are a lot of ass-dumb people out there running the world.

So I don't know. So here I sit. So my brain rots as I scream at my computer for the fast money round not including any questions about movies or tv.

But at least I got the ball rolling on writing again...even if it's just for this meager little blog o' mine that very, very few people will ever see. Sometimes you've just got to do it for yourself.

(that's what she said.)

For the Love of Saltwater Taffy - a Novel

So I haven't done much blogging lately.

The month of November was a bit of a doozy for me.  First there was obviously the presidential election, which I was following closely, and then there was the apartment move that took place over the span of about two and a half long weeks.

Oh, and of course there was that little thing called Thanksgiving, along with all the requisite cooking, gorging, and shopping.

To top it all off, I decided to attempt the Nanowrimo program - the National Novel Writing Month - for the first time.  Needless to say, I didn't quite reach the goal of 50,000 words in the month of November.  Heh heh....ah, no.  But it did succeed in taking up any spare time I had, which effectively kept me away from my dearly beloved blog.

So I thought to myself today, you know what?  I should get back at it.  Write a blog.  Let the world know I'm still here, whether or not it cares!

And then I hit a wall.  Wait...what do I write about???  There's no more election coverage to delve into, no more Sarah Palin to gape at - there's not even a horrible landlord to gripe about!!!!  The candidate I ardently supported won the race, I moved into a wonderful new apartment that is everything I hoped for and more - what the hell am I supposed to write about??????

Panic sets in.  Concentration is becoming difficult, and I'm enveloped in a cold sweat.  Cold because the new apartment does tend to get drafty from time to time - hey, nothing can be perfect, ya know.

Then I thought, wait - maybe I shouldn't try to jump right back into blogging, perhaps I should attempt to re-start the ol' novel instead!  Yeah, that'll be SO much easier!!

Or maybe not.

A novel is such a daunting task.  Yeah, I already knew that, but once you really start trying to sit down and write the damn thing, you start to understand just how painstaking it really is.  I thought the words would flow out of me like a river of imagination, that I would just need to focus on keeping my fingers moving as quickly as my mind.  Instead, the process has been somewhat akin to eating taffy (which I hate) - you sort of dig your teeth in, then you pull and you pull, the taffy ever so slowly stretches, then suddenly it snaps, and you have a few short moments of sweet reward before it's gone and you've gotta go back to digging your teeth in once more.

I mean, it is tough, people.  And with all that I had going on during November, I was only able to make it to about 10,000 words - a measly fifth of the way to the nanowrimo goal.

But I'm trying to focus on the positive - hell, I got to 10,000 words!!!  That's 10,000 more than I had before I started.  It may not be a novel, but it's a chapter or two at the very least.  I've got a base.  I've got a platform to dive off of.

So yeah, it's fucking daunting as all get out, but I'm gonna get back at it and try to keep digging my teeth in until the taffy runs out.  I gave myself a little reprieve first - did a few chores around the new place and told myself I could write one little, teeny blog to get the gears turning - oil up the ol' candy factory, so to speak, before I start trying to crank up the big assembly line.

Wish me luck, friends.  And if all turns out well, maybe I'll even let you read the finished novel one day.  Like in 2014.