Saturday this “director” invited me out for a drink or two to discuss this script for a short film he is making. I knew of this “director’s” reputation (misogynist) before I went…so you could (he could) say I was asking for it, but I wasn’t. I am a wee little actress in this big world of people trying to make it and he knew that and he took advantage of his position.
There was no script. how do I know this? two hours of trying to pry something out of him about this script and still coming up empty-handed, I started to get the picture. I decided it was time to leave. He coming on a little stronger (his hand on my knee “playfully”, asking if I had somewhere better to be) “I have to go!” He leans in…kiss. Rape Kiss. “umm, no, no, thank you.” (why did I say thank you politely?) “You know I have a boyfriend. I need to go.” awkwardly back out of bar.
my first reaction is to tell my boyfriend about the altercation that has just taken place. BAD IDEA. I tell him and he gets angry at the “director” first and says the usual (I am going to fuck up his career) and such talk. it is when I tell him that I don’t want him to do anything is when he turns his anger on me. “WHY?” he asks. “I don’t have much of a career in acting and I don’t need any bridges burned.” I say. He looks stunned. He doesn’t understand why I don’t need him to “defend my honor”. I am a big girl. I can do this on my own.
now I am worried this “director” is going to go around town saying I am a floozy, strumpet, or a jezebel. I just want to forget the whole thing happened and hopefully never have to work with him.
I think my therapist worries about me…does that make sense. I thought the whole point of this “therapy” was so that I didn’t worry as much and take it out on “J” well, now when I see my therapist he has this look like he isn’t sure if I can do this grown up stuff, you know? Like I wonder how she has fucked her self this week…I tend to prove him right on that. I am BROKE! how did I get here? what the fuck! I make good money at my job yet I have no money (I promise I only paid for one hooker last week) none! well, I guess it also has to do with the fact my room mate is moving and I take over rent in AUGUST!!!!! AAAHHHH! RENT! (I am making a crazy face right now)!
Oh, but I did get my car registered today during my lunch! so mission accomplished. now I go to court next week. fun! my dad is afraid they might arrest me when I talk to the judge due to my past offenses (traffic violations-and not even 1 speeding ticket) I roll through a lot of stop signs.
“The sense of unhappiness is so much easier to convey than that of happiness. In misery we seem aware of our own existence, even though it may be in the form of a monstrous egotism: this pain of mine is individual, this nerve that winces belongs to me and to no other. But happiness annihilates us: we lose our identity.”—Graham Greene, The End of the Affair (via fwriction)
Why is it so hard for me to write lately? I use to write in my journal every night before I went to sleep. it was my therapy. now i am going to a therapist and that cost a lot more than a notebook. I wouldn’t even write that many secrets or issues in my journal, it was just thoughts about my day, what i wanted to do next weekend, boring girl stuff (like: I need to lose weight…ect). I was a boring journal. never too exciting.
I just want to write. I just want to get all of these thoughts out as quickly as I can now and typing is a lot faster than writing them on paper. every word takes 5-10 pen strokes. typing…so quick.
I take my emotions out on you. I am sorry. I blow up. I am confused. I need you and I want to push you away all at the same time. you try to help but it only infuriates me to a point where I get in my car and I drive away a fast as I can. I am a bitch. I am so sorry. you are good. you are so good. maybe I think I need bad. maybe I still think you are too good for me. I love you.
I should tell you right now that I am not mysterious. I am to loud and opinionated to be. I like to make people laugh and will go about acting like a fool to do so. I wish I was mysterious, maybe then my journal would be exciting.