Pity Party

I'm writing a blues song. It's called "DGA Got Me Down." It's part of my new album, which is entitled, "There Goes Another One." The central theme is how I can't seem to keep any dudes as friends before I go and ruin it somehow and how helpless I feel in my career and how I feel like crap any time I go home.

Not that home is bad or anything, it's okay. It's what I can do right now given what I have to work with. I just kind of wish I had a nicer place. A place worth hanging out in, in a more convenient neighborhood for hanging out. The girls and I are working on it, but it's not easy since I'm still financially recovering from my last stint of unemployment. And also.... I love the girls, but I feel like maybe we want different things in a home. I worry we won't be able to balance our priorities all together.

It's not the living situation that upsets me about home though, it's the being there with nothing else to do. It's the not going out part. I know my job isolates me from keeping up with friends who are doing different things a bit but come on, 10:00 isn't that late, even for a weekday. I want to be out with people. I want to spend my free time talking and laughing and dancing and celebrating. When I'm home lately I just feel like I have nothing to celebrate.

Know why? 'Cause I feel like a failure.

I know the DGA thing was out of my control. It wasn't even decided by anyone involved in the film industry - and the President has taken to saying she thinks it's a sort of remedial program for the less-capable. But I still feel like I failed. I'm stuck, still PAing. Not even set PA, so I'm technically not even working toward anything (if you're a reader you know I'm goal oriented, so you must realize that this has really got me miserable about my current job). I really wanted that trainee spot. I really wanted the health insurance and the computer - stuff I can't afford for myself (did I mention I'm making barely enough to survive and my job is ending soon?). More importantly though I REALLY wanted the opportunity to succeed. I'm a smart, capable girl. I can do almost anything and, given a learning curve, can get good at almost anything. I just need the opportunity...and getting myself the opportunities has always been my biggest challenge. I really need some help with that.

I hate to be a victim and I really hate entitlement, but since I'm having a pity party here I may as well come out and say it: haven't I gone through enough horrible shit that the Universe can just cut me a break? Haven't I? I mean, fuck--my Dad, merciless torment as a child, my alcoholic stepfather, my sick mother, my family who all pretend nothing's wrong and then goddamn Hurricane Katrina! And that's just the big stuff... That doesn't even start with money, which I've never really had, or relationships, which...yeah. Let's not even get into that.

Actually let's. Let's get into that a little, because I'm also dealing with PDF, who suddenly seems to hate me for no good reason; Helicopter, who is supposed to be back from Iraq but still hasn't called or written, no less than three different boys who I am desperately trying to get away from but keep popping up out of nowhere; the Sound Scientist, whose girlfriend hates me and who treats me like it's a chore to hang out; and Cheshire, who, after a barrel full of mixed messages suddenly acts like I don't exist. And remember about a year ago when I was all fucked up over some dude? Yeah suddenly he's chatty again. Mama Squirrel has her own deep dark stuff to deal with, R went away to California just when we were starting to be good friends (xo), and Banana, Thinky and Aunt J have totally disappeared off the planet. AND MY EX-BOYFRIEND IS MARRYING SOMEONE WHO SWF'ED ME AND THEY ARE LIVING IN MY FUCKING HOUSE.

It hurts!

Particularly the disappearing acts and the nonexistent treatment...that crap is my biggest source of interpersonal angst. It makes me feel like a fool for even trying and for actually caring about people. I probably am a fool. I feel like there has to be something I'm doing wrong. I feel like I ruin everything I touch.

I just want a reason to be happy again. I was so happy when I first got here to New York. I want someone to shake me and tell me to snap out of all the self pity and fear. I want someone--friend, lover, whatever, it's not about that--to think I'm special and to really care. I mean, think I'm kinda special...to come out of everything that's happened to me and still be standing on my own two feet--albeit barely--is pretty fucking special.

I know I have friends. Good friends, who care. I know that disappearing is not any reason to discount them from caring. I know they have their own stuff going on and that the world does not revolve around me. But I have a void, a best friend void. I want someone who will be my go-to, the Butch to my Sundance, the Ethel to my Lucy, the Peter to my Wendy... I've always had that, ever since I can remember. There's always been one person who was stuck to me like glue and vice versa. Best of friends. Partners in crime. Peas in a pod. Someone to laugh with and have antics with, but also someone I can cry to, because lately I really need a good cry.

It embarrasses me to say these things in public like this, but I really want to blow off this steam just the same. It's therapeutic and will make me feel better. So now, please forget everything I just wrote. Go back to thinking I'm bright and chipper and completely invincible, because I don't like showing my face this way and I'd much prefer you to see me smiling and pressing courageously onward in my adventures.