Tuesday, November 05, 2002


Nothing is wrong. I just feel blah, that’s all. Where is it written that I have to be upbeat and funny all the time? Nowhere, that’s where. I suppose I hold myself up to that ideal, because, really, it’s more fun for me. Once again, I am temping this week at a certain Hollywood studio with a knack for turning Little Creatures and Little People into pots of gold. I’m comfortable here, but there’s a limit to just how comfortable one can be as a temp. I can never really settle into one desk or department or assignment. Every day and every week has the potential to be one of transition. Consequently, the larger issues are weighing on me: Where is this going to lead? Is this helping my career? Do I have a career? How have I managed to work in this industry for almost eight years and not have a career? How am I going to work my way out of debt making ten bucks an hour? The smaller issues are nagging at me: I’ve got to get back to eating right. I’ve got to resume my running regimen. I’ve got to write every day. I’ve got to finish something. But, in actuality, nothing is wrong. I’m working pretty consistently. I’ve been having a lot of fun lately. I’m reading a great book. My relationship is going really well. My ideas are good. I just haven’t been as strict with my diet and exercise and I’m not writing as much as I’d like. I can turn that stuff around in a hurry. The other stuff, the big stuff, may take a little time to straighten out. Temping seems perfect for me right now, during this period of plotting. I can bounce around, try a bunch of different things, but not be tied to any one of them. Sure, I’m going to have to get a permanent job soon, there’s really no way around it. But, taking my time and methodically maneuvering into position will hopefully ensure that I’ll land in the perfect place.

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