Thursday, November 10, 2005

 

because i will trach myself with a pencil.

i am not (note: not ready to use past tense) fucking around about wanting to be an actor. not no way. but i have absolutely no shame about saying that MORE than i want to be an actor, i want not to be an office person.

someone was just talking to me about a legitimate assignment that i am actually getting paid for and i should have been listening but i couldn't because i was fascinated withhow she seemed to care about it. who are these replicants who actually care about office work? because i do not think they are faking. how do they manage it? i cannot beat myself into caring about it, not when i get stern with myself aobut how good i have it, not when i realize i could get fired for doing grad school research on company time, not when some sort of buried calvinist work ethic tries to engender some respect for an honest days' work. i cannot get over that this is just a job to help some other people make money, just like every job i've ever had except this one. i work part-time! way less than most people! and this chair still makes me itch so bad! clearly, age is not going to make this dilemma better.

ergo, the graduate school. i'm not done with this acting business (or, rather, it's precisely the "business" i'm done with and not the acting, for now), but i am ready to say that i will do almost anything to escape a life of dayjobs. because this level of apathy (it can't be apathy, really, when i'm so filled with active ugh, but you know what i mean) borders on sin. i can't hate anything this much and plan to continue doing it. out, out, out.

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