Friday, October 24, 2008

I can't offend you more than I offend myself..

I’m feeling a lot of doubt, in myself as a person, as an actor, as a woman/girl/female (it doesn’t feel right referring to myself as a woman but that’s an issue I’ll have to leave for another day).
I wonder, all the time, so much so that it’s almost not worth mentioning, whether I’m deluding myself with this whole acting malarkey. But that inevitably leads to thoughts of whether I’m deluding myself with this whole life business.
Sometime in my past, somehow, I latched onto the idea of acting to give myself a purpose. And now, at 28 years old, I’m returning to the moment when that decision was made and once again asking, “what now?”
And so indeed, what now? If not an actor then what? A director? Well, that’s just as delusional as the so-called career I’ve already got. An Olympic equestrienne? Hah! A teacher? Where’s the bottle of cheap wine and sleeping pills please. A writer? Well we’re back to the impossibleness of the realm of the actor and director. So….
A prostitute? Financially lucrative but I’ve never been much good with men. And I have tiny breasts. A dog trainer? Wonderful fun but pays just enough to keep a small poodle in kibble for a couple of days with owner living in cardboard box. Hmm…. I’m drawing a blank. What else interests me? Retail sales manager? I can see my future now. Forty-five and dressed like a girl, telling some insecure brat that she looks ‘hot’.
What else? What else? Fucking God please tell me what else?!
I. Can. Not. Think. Of. Any. Other. Profession. That. I. Would. Be. Good. At.
What do I do? Starve myself to death to avoid my inevitable descent into middle-aged mediocrity? But I’ve already tried that and I’m bored with the self-indulgent narcissism it demands.
What would I be great at? I could watch DVDs for a living. Read books. Look up celebrities on the internet. Browse for weight-loss tips. Tan once a year. Do cryptic crosswords. Eat breakfast at a cafe everyday. Forget to call my parents. Stay up late. Download TV shows. Park illegally. Take mediocre photos and post them on my blog. Buy clothes. Buy cosmetics. Try to find the cure for acne. Eat my own weight in popcorn. Pick up other peoples rubbish while tsking audibly. Write down ideas for outfits I will never wear. Read Amazon book reviews for book I will never buy. Look up IMDb profiles for actors I have never heard of. Doubt myself. Doubt myself. Doubt myself.
I’m so exhausted with the thought of the meaning of the pursuit of fulfilment in life that I cannot even bring myself to think of a way to end this bitter diatri…

5 comments:

Doug said...

I love the way you typed "Doubt yourself" and then again in a smaller font. I could almost hear you say it and stare down at your feet.

I wish I could help you out, but I am an asshole and I only really help myself.

You'll figure it out. You seem like a smart chick.

katie said...

you're me. just eight years older. right down to the illegal parking, tsking at how disgustingly lazy people are that they cant seem to walk to the nearest trash receptacle, and imdbing little known actors because for some reason they're often more intriguing.

though it saddens me that we draw such parallels as having eating problems (dont know the gravity of yours, but ive definitely been to hell on earth) and being clueless as to where we want to be in life.

but hey, theres always bowie, facial hair, having the best night of your life, finishing a book thats stirred you, dancing, and being told you're beautiful by a stranger. things like these always make up for the bad.

and you should never rule out prostitution...some men prefer tiny breasts ;P

Miss Kaye said...

Life wouldnt be life it we werent constantly searching and floundering, getting lost and being found, and constantly f*cking up :) Its good like that.

Sockpuppet said...

What a shame you can't blog for a living. (Orrrr cannnn youuuuu?!) We'd get more writing... and you are fucking good at it. I mean really fucking good at it.

Sharky said...

You wanna be an actor? Move to L.A., N.Y., Hollywood, or somewhere you will see famous ppl. Chram them. Make friends w/ them. Showcase your talents, and when you meet powerful producers, don't take no for an answer. Harass them till you get the part. Whore yourself out w/ flyers, comercials you made yourself.... Be annoyingly ambitious, like a man that won't take no for an answer, you gotta practically force yourself on producers, and movie execs.

"Financially lucrative but I’ve never been much good with men. And I have tiny breasts." Had you'd asked the question of why you weren't good w/ men, you'd of answered it. Don't take it personally, or base you view of self on how men view you. They like big breast, and getting men....has nothing to do w/ personality. If men don't like you. F#ck them. If you must have their approval...get implants & they'll be your submissive little b!tches. Looks are all that matter to men.

Stop w/ the inccesent worring. It is pointless. Some of those which you mentioned, are actually jobs. Companys need testers for all sorts of products, there is a such thing as movie critics (think of Icesickle, & Sherbet....I mean Sicle & Ebert), fashion designer, & you can get supprisinly rich at doing these things if your lucky enough to get the job. Can't help you w/ the popcorn thing though....