It may or may not happen for me, and I will keep plugging away and I will not be bummed out about it the whole time, but I’m sick of not being successful — I mean artistically. And by artistic success, I mean, like a book published or some major credit or something. I hear about friends and peers on TV or films, or with the name in print, etc., and mostly, I’m psyched for them, but in other moments, I just hate them. It’s not to say that successful people are happy, or that I’d be more happy as a success, but I’m willing to give it a try.
Also, FYI, I just watched the last “Lost” episode. I love the actor who plays Michael, but I feel like this show is toying with my emotions, you know? It wasn’t quite as satisfying or as well-structured as the Desmond episode, which I pitched to my husband as “I dare you not to cry.”