Oh, God. Is it Morning?

Man, I shoulda gone to bed sooner. I'm so damned tired. One hell of a weekend. Ah, well. I knew yesterday I'd be a mess today. Something about 7 or so hours sleep over Friday to Saturday, and last night's 6.5 won't make a dent in things. Tonight, I sleep. Before that, a job interview.

Anyhow.

I was just checking my Gmail and saw this news story. "Soap actor commits suicide."

I was thinking, Do you ever wonder what's the last thing to go through somebody like this' mind? Besides the bullet, I mean.

He's 55. He was one of the first theatre graduates of Juilliard, and spent the last 20 years of his life playing a detective on a soap.

Those soap operas, they pay well. How else do you think those actors stay so long? But then you remember, once upon a world someone taught you that it wasn't all about money. And then you realize, "my life has been spent seeking riches, and somewhere along the way, I lost my joy."

I used to have a Virginia Woolf quote on my keyring: "If you are losing your leisure, look out, for it may be that you are losing your soul."

I dunno. If I woke up and realized I'd spent 20 years of my life being a well-paid fat-cat reciting trite and mediocre lines written by a bunch of hackneyed soap staff, I'd probably kiss the gun before I unloaded on my grey matter.

I've never worked a job I disliked. Not for long. For two weeks, I sold Filter Queen vacuums in-home. For one day I stuffed envelopes. For 10 days I was a professional inventory taker. (Imagine wearing a numeric keypad around your waist, then taking inventory for a hardware store: 8 bolts, 9 bolts, 10 bolts...) I don't stay long.

I don't like this job much, but I'll probably be there a month or so. I want the job I have an interview for. It'd be all right. I think I could get promoted quickly there.

Ah, fuck, I'm tired. Coffee. Breakfast. Lobotomy. Things with sugar. Coffee. Coffee. Sugar. Yeah, something like that. That's my plan. I really can't hand a mental workout of more training today. Shit.