Appropriate Thoughts for 1:35

I'm 26. I live in New York. I'm single. I'm watching Annie Hall. Something clicked two minutes ago that made me want to smack myself upside the head. Not that it's important.

Where do our lives go? I grew up wanting to be like my brother. I followed the 'three years later' model. He started drawing, three years later, I started writing. He went to college for graphic design, something he feels passionate about. I went to college to become a better actor. Something I feel passionate about. He got a day job, I got a day job. He got married... I'm nowhere close to that.

I'm not working a nine-to-five. I'm working, just not in an office. In New York. I moved here for a few reasons.

Where do our lives go? After Theatre IV, I felt like the period of working at Lockheed Martin was going to be a 'transition period'. It lasted three years.

Now what?

I have no idea what's next; only what I'm working toward. Lord knows what'll come of it.

Be well, folks.

On Quality Shelf Space

Well, the bookcase arrived this evening. It is now full. Novels, useful How-Tos, a crapload of Trade Paperbacks, and every oversized book I saw fit to bring with me. (And a bit of prop kryptonite, too.)

A lot of Terry Pratchett on the shelves. And Alan Moore. And Kim Harrison. And Jasper Fforde. And Laurie R. King.

I'd hoped that getting things in place would help the place feel more like home.

It didn't work.

Seeing some of my most important possessions resting on the shelves just made me feel more out of place. (Certainly no Buddhist perspective; mine.) It was easy for them, they're just objects. Hard square objects fitting on hard square shelves.

So I haven't found my shelf yet.

The bed arrives tomorrow, first thing in the morning. There's an audition for a comedy troupe in Manhattan tomorrow evening. I have an interview with a voice casting agency on Saturday. No expectations, just hopes.

That's enough out of me, folks. Sweet dreams.