There Is Nothing Left to Do

"Earth to Malice: come in, Malice. Over."

"..."

"I repeat -- Earth to Malice: come in, Malice. Your run at SPF is over, it's time for you to return to the world you left behind. Do you copy?"

"..."

** END TRANSMISSION **

I've never had insomnia this bad. Do people die from insomnia? It's hard to sleep with all this self-contempt. I suppose I could get some honest writing done, but I'd much rather write this stupid blog entry.

I'm trying to find a peace with myself. People will like me or they won't like me. People will like my work or they won't like my work. There are a lot of factors involved that I've no control over. I can't win over everyone.

(Or, can I.....?)

Anna Chlumsky's mom found this blog. Hello to Anna Chlumsky's mom. It was good talking with you. I'm not sure what I said but I hope it wasn't stupid. I do know how to blather when given the opportunity.

I am so thankful my own mom doesn't surf the Internet.

So, who else is reading this blog?

I want to feel good about what I've accomplished, but I'm cruel to myself. I'm not being humble for the sake of seeming humble. I know I'm good. I know I can be so much better. The world does not suffer from a shortage of writers. Even good writers. So, why should anyone pay attention to my work?

I'd like to go away. Somewhere far, far away. Maybe a beach. Sink my toes into some fine, clean sand. Close my eyes and forget about the world for a while. All my self-doubt is killing me. I just need to turn off my head for while and exist. I care too much about things I can't control. I can get obsessed with the things I can't control.

My director asked me why I *blog*. The conversation shifted and I didn't get to answer him. I don't keep a private journal. I'm writer. I've been a writer forever, long before I started writing "scripts". I've never been good at keeping private journals because what's the point of writing something if there's no audience? When it suits me, I can imagine that no one is reading this blog, or I can imagine that a lot of people (well, a handful) are reading it. Regardless, it keeps me writing. It keeps me thinking about the flow of words on the page. There's an argument to be made that it's a waste of time and it detracts from "real writing", but it's good for me. I need to get these things out of my head.

And there you have it: another over-long entry that people will skim over. Aren't blogs grand? Use once and destroy! They're like toilet paper!