Oh, so close.

So I had all these exciting and fun things I wanted to write about on the blog. Especially after seeing John August's blog (my friend Romy is working on his movie) and Josh Friedman's. They're paid screenwriters. They make lots of money. They get lots of comments. They put my blog to shame. But alas, I am not them. And there remains a reason they make lots of money. And I don't. Much like the short story/nonfiction piece I read on smallspiralnotebook.com. It's by a writer by the name of Michelle Wildgen (http:/www.smallspiralnotebook.com/spring06/wildgen.shtml) It's about how she nearly went into anaphylactic shock due to food allergies. That happened to me-- well the anaphlactic shock thing-- but mine was just from the outdoors and my allergy shots. I wrote about it on the blog -- it happened once when I was by myself after working all night on the show and once with the ex-convict. After reading this Michelle Wildgen person's rendition aka a very good piece, I realized mine was merely a telling. But hers? $%&#ing fabulous. Clearly, she has a different style than me. But guess what? It's a damn good style. And that's why she has a book coming out and all this notoriety. And perhaps, I need to work a little harder.

Which brings up the job I interviewed for-- it looks like it's not going to happen. Which I am sad about. I mean, I don't wake up depressed about it. Not to sound depressing or anything, but I have kind of gotten used to the "things not happening thing". But I did have such a good feeling about it. And that does disappoint me. Maybe I was too honest. Too real. But I feel sooner or later people will find out who I am. Pretending I'm someone else is alot of work. Maybe I need to work harder at doing that, too. Other people do it all the time. And quite successfully.

I don't know if the job has anything to do with why I cried at the gynecologist's office today. There are probably a few reasons. One of which is I would like to have children. And of course, the requisite male specimen to help create them. I'm going to some get-together this weekend with people from high school ( the class above mine-- I didn't relate to my class so much. All the girls seemed to become professional cheerleaders. Well three actually. Which is still a lot). It does fill my with a certain amount of trepidation. On the rsvp list for the evite, everyone was a hyphen. And as quirky and unconventional as I may be, I do want to be a hyphen. Well, a non-practicing one really. I like my name. I lived it, earned it and to be anything else at this point would just feel wrong. Maybe I need to work harder at being a hyphen, too.

Because this oh, so close thing is not the same as being there. Sure, it creates little pockets of hope. But hope and happiness are two totally different things. It's the difference between sharing what didn't happen and not knowing why and telling people what did and how you did it. No wonder people like John August and Josh Friedman.