yawn

this week has been sooooo boring at work. i feel like all that potential i had in school is oozing out of my ears into mass puddles by the heater that i have under my desk. in school, i never ever imagined i would be doing what i do now: updating people's information in a database, asking old ladies for money, ignoring my phone when it rings (unless it's my boss or her boss or the like...thank you called ID), writing spiffy letters then scanning someone else's signature on them and listening to them take the credit for the letters' eloquence. as a side note, why did they spend so much time teaching us plagiarism was bad in school when in the real world that's all people do? low man does work, high man puts signature on it. the end.

but back to the main issue: boredom. there is only so much cracked.com, perezhilton and yahoo! personals one can entertain oneself with in the course of a day, PARTICULARLY when your computer screen faces the door and every freakin' person that walks by knows exactly what you're doing. and i get tired of clicking away so that it looks like i'm reading work-related stuff. "looking busy" is exhausting. it requires more effort than actually being busy in my opinion. so you say, "but your bored. so why are you trying to look busy?" well, i'm bored, yes. but i also don't want any work because i'm more than likely going to get something i don't want to do anyway. quite a pickle... i know. bored and annoyed or busy and annoyed. neither one is desirable. if only some exec producer would ride up in his maserati with a contract in hand, and tell me how much he loves my work and that i have the most beautiful writing he's ever seen and he can't bear another season without me and ask me to be his staff writer. yes! yes! yes!

but my package still hasn't come back, and all of my other writing leads are sort of stagnant right now. i find my pursuit of writing to be too much like dating. everything's great, and the producer or manager or whomever seems really interested, and you think you've found the one. you get all excited when they call, and you can't wait to see them again, and you daydream about all the magic you will make together. then they stop returning your calls and your emails, and you don't know what went wrong, and you gripe to your friends, who insist there will be others and that he just wasn't the one for you. bah humbug. if i could find a hot, non-neurotic, non-narcissistic agent (above 5'9") who could wine me, dine me, do me AND staff me, oh mercy...y'all would never hear from me again.

but i don't have one of those right now. and that's why i'm under these fluorescent lights, staring at a white wall that makes my eyes hurt, shivering next to a heater in the middle of June.
i am glad it's almost the weekend in L.A.