My cats turned one year old Oct. 11th. I missed it, I was on set from 6 a.m. until 10:30, then had to be back at 6 again the next day, so stayed at a friend’s house. This month, for the wonder that is TV-land, I have played a high-school student, a college student, an art teacher, a senator’s daughter, (wayward, of course, complete with musician boyfriend, hah), and someone waiting in line at the DMV. Next week I’m to mock-attend an upscale banquet at an international embassy, a prom, and an Irish pub.
It’s lovely-strange, the background work I’ve been doing. Like a low level hum, I’ve been reconnecting with friends, making new ones, and generally being paid to be social. Other things have been neglected, though, and I hope to rectify that soon. Chores littered with hyphens, mostly, (house-work, copy-editing, e-mail…), but there are legitimately important things too. I need to write copy for Foxtongue that I don’t immediately delete with a sense of despair. Every time I read a finished newsletter out loud, I feel as if it should be crumpled into fish-wrap, and I promptly scrap it. I’m beginning to think I should have someone else over to write it, someone who could translate my nihilistic ranting on the project into something cohesive and actually useful.
As Vonnegut said so succinctly, “There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”