a poorly written essay on operant conditioning

It’s all necessary. I sit in my room, legs up on my short dresser that doubles as a coffee table for my typewriter and discarded clothes and find myself lost in the bare wall in front of me. Barely four months I’ve lived here- an apartment far beyond any standards or glimpse of ‘luxury’ I held before. Boxes are lined against the door, innocent to the travels we’re about to take but ready. More ready than I am. They’re necessary, more than I thought before.

I moved here a year ago and I have never felt so different in a year. Never so far with accomplishments and failures, equally. Heartbreak I would have never wished to read about. I can’t blush or cry or feel anything but pride. Though I’m aware of the pain I know is ahead. By Friday. When all the books and short summer shorts and flea market bags and club wigs are packed and the room is emptied. When I look at this ‘luxury bedroom’ bare for whoever next, just as I looked at that weird Spanish-style studio apartment with no working A/C last summer.

It’s weird to feel so different than the person I just was a year ago yet feel the exact same angst. But here it is, looking at the highway as an empty canvas, as open doors and with a new name if I want. Something like “Anne” or “Elle.”

Little Girl, Big City part 2.

Where am I going?

When should I begin?

Who will go with me? Who will stay?

I was fired/lost my waitress job last Wednesday. The same day I returned from vacation, needless to say I’ve got no money saved up and I’m looking at returning home at the end of this week. I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I went bargain shopping with my friend Jessica then hung out at her place watching shitty tv programs with her and her boyfriend. Her boyfriend is a child actor and an extensive film enthusiast. We had a pretty good time watching “reality shows” and drinking fancy tequila drinks he conjured up (with a little dash of an equally fancy joint). On my drive home I watched the Hollywood signs and lights dance past my car and into my heart, the Magic Castle, and odd corner cafes and insignificant street signs that have made a nostalgic nest in my heart. Could I love LA after-all?

It’s not fair to feel like you’ve accepted a path and your gut, your parents, your boyfriend- everyone is on board! But you’re not. You’re not ready. You’re scared, confused, and really feel like throwing your life to the fate of a coin toss. Heads we stay, tails we go. Or would it be the other way around?

I scheduled an audition at 3 pm today. Why not? It’s an extra in a crappy sounding pilot, but it’s something I’ve never done in Los Angeles and I felt like I should try to get all this done in my last week here. I’m probably going to cancel it soon. I’ve got to go, I’ve already made the plans.

I just called to cancel and the line was busy. I constantly look for a sign in everything, but sometimes things just happen and you go with it without thinking so damn much! But not me, not raised in movies with narrations and connections and signs! I’ll call again.