of having wasted an entire weekend,
knowing that I need to be preparing for an audition on Thursday and that I'll be working all day, everyday before the audition.
I want very much to get this part. I again feel as though, if I can't at least get this callback (and perhaps also the part) I have no business being in this city.
I felt the same way before Yellowman. Perhaps it is a reflection of necessary hunger.
Yet I hate it. I can't tell myself to feel the hunger. I am not skilled in the craft as such. I have to actually feel it.
So I procrastinate and piss myself off. I could just prepare, as I've been taught...
but that doesn't work for me (because I never learn).
I need the pain, the anguish. I need it to burrow in and hold up in that spot in my psyche left empty by the lack of experience typified by those of us grown up sheltered and privileged.
I've not experienced my rightful share of the pain of living so I vainfully manufacture it for myself...
I create it.
I make it up.
I despise this feeling, this "profession" that relegates my sustenance to other's arbitrary whims, hate the lack of control...
yet I find that my bags are not packed.
(what?saul williams you ain't, potnah)
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