Restive

The budget is tight, but after receiving no response from agents nor managers regarding voice talent work, I forked over $100 for a year membership with Backstage with the hope that I may find some gigs there. 

I have been feeling restless lately. Some depression too, but mostly this restive anxiety keeps settling in. I want to write more, but my lack of defined goals in the short or long term leave me feeling somewhat paralyzed. And of course, most weeks, I am working on something in a livestreamed standup comedy workshop. I just feel as though I keep casting these nets and hoping that something somehow catches.

Last weekend, I reconnected with the writer/director/lead actor of my first feature film. He was very kind and responsive, giving me many details about his current projects. I played the young version of him, so he described receiving my email as a refreshing trip to the past that came at a rough time. He also mentioned that he had sent a pilot pitch to Disney and it was now in the fourth month of waiting to hear back. I hope that such a wait time is normal for a pilot that will be greenlit, because I too have been waiting a similar amount of time to hear back about that sketch comedy show.

My slightly famous comedian friend is visiting Austin for a shoot, and when I asked if she would have time to hang out, she said no, but if I wanted to, I could play the role of a bartender and we could then hang out on set. This was on the list of secret agendas I had had with regard to visiting with her anyway, so I of course accepted the offer. So that is supposed to happen on Friday.

I feel as though I am Groundhog Daying it. I read testimonials from patients with Long Covid and it leads me to think that this long-term relative isolation is okay, that it is justified. Even if I had money, going out and spending it on social activities would be risking chronic respiratory, cardiovascular, and neurological disease. That being said, it is very easy to revert to alcoholic tendencies. What is the difference between the sober nights and drunk ones? In the former, anxiety can take over and I can dream of uncomfortable realities such as how I feel about my family, especially my father. But when I am drunk, I just watch a movie and, occasionally, become inspired to write something.

I spent so much of my life with something to aim for, a direction to throw myself. Now, I feel caught outside of my previous aspirations. One comfort in that regard is that if I suddenly had no worries about money, I am fairly certain that I would not feel fulfilled. I would still likely work on writing, but then I would have the means to write for what I want to do. A comedic one-man show, the podcast, the television show for which I currently just have a pitch and a scene written, and hopefully more travel-inspired content would all be on the list of creative tasks demanded by my work ethic.

But alas, for now, I just try to read, write, perform, and get paid.