Serious Doubts
about everything I'm doing lately.
It never seems like the right thing.
I don't think the screenwriting thing will ever go anywhere yet I can't fit in with the onanistic hobbyists of Script Frenzy. who write a hundred pages for "fun" or "Just for myself"(I hate them and I envy them...they seem like lightweights who are never going to write anything anyone wants, but I think if you add an emoticon you could tell them this and they won't get mad. There is something to be said for this...my intensity on the subject hasn't exactly added up to accomplishment. But I still think the posters are lame, and the last thing I want to do is sit in some coffee shop having Writer's Play Group.
But then, I suck. So maybe I should bite the bullet and get the "So Many Books So Little Time" ugly sweatshirt and multicolored Idea Journal with glitter pens and accept that these are my people and duplicate Anthony Michael Hall's path as Queen of the Dickwads...I could show off my contracts like girls' panties.
But those are probably happy, fulfilled people who let go of most of their fantasies after college and this one yearly attempt at creation is, like, their nostalgic joint at the reunion...they'll type like fools through the first week in April and then sigh "What were we thinking?" like writing is acidwashed jeans or Manic Panic.
But they have things to come home to and are not making up a pubertal flirt deficit on OKCupid like me...who's the bigger loser? people enjoying lameness? Or the cliched bitter thwarted cripple?
God, I don't know who I hate more...
It never seems like the right thing.
I don't think the screenwriting thing will ever go anywhere yet I can't fit in with the onanistic hobbyists of Script Frenzy. who write a hundred pages for "fun" or "Just for myself"(I hate them and I envy them...they seem like lightweights who are never going to write anything anyone wants, but I think if you add an emoticon you could tell them this and they won't get mad. There is something to be said for this...my intensity on the subject hasn't exactly added up to accomplishment. But I still think the posters are lame, and the last thing I want to do is sit in some coffee shop having Writer's Play Group.
But then, I suck. So maybe I should bite the bullet and get the "So Many Books So Little Time" ugly sweatshirt and multicolored Idea Journal with glitter pens and accept that these are my people and duplicate Anthony Michael Hall's path as Queen of the Dickwads...I could show off my contracts like girls' panties.
But those are probably happy, fulfilled people who let go of most of their fantasies after college and this one yearly attempt at creation is, like, their nostalgic joint at the reunion...they'll type like fools through the first week in April and then sigh "What were we thinking?" like writing is acidwashed jeans or Manic Panic.
But they have things to come home to and are not making up a pubertal flirt deficit on OKCupid like me...who's the bigger loser? people enjoying lameness? Or the cliched bitter thwarted cripple?
God, I don't know who I hate more...