NCBSCE Day

OK, now I'm worried. I went to the comic book store yesterday after work, and it as closed. And as I approached it, I remembered that I had done the same thing a week ago and had gone away thinking they must close early on Mondays, or perhaps it was some sort of holiday like, National Comic Book Shop Closes Early Day or something. Oh well, I thought to myself, shrugging my shoulders. I'll try again some other day. And then I promptly forgot that this entire event took place. Until I did it again.

This time, as the memory of the previous failure burst forth into my startled brain, I became concerned. What if they don't close early on Mondays, what if they just...closed.

Guilt.

No, don't be silly, Julia. Just because you missed 2 Wednesdays in a row, does not mean that they were forced to go under. You didn't buy THAT many books a week.

Determined not to forget, I rushed home and got on the computer. According to their website, they are open 7 days a week. However, there are no hours listed. I tried calling the number, thinking their answering machine would list the hours they were open just as Otto does. But I was greeted by a robotic voice merely informing that the humanoids I was attempting to contact were not present. I know they're not present, you moron! I was just there! I want to know if they've been forced out of business by this stupid economy.

I shall have to investigate further, and report back. Tomorrow. They HAVE to be open on Wednesdays because that's new comic book day. And they just remodeled, so they must have been doing well. Right?

OK, I'm not going to worry about it.

Being forced to watch yourself on screen should be considered illegal torture. Erm. Well, actually, ANY form of torture should be illegal, but as we Americans are learning, that is sadly not always the case. Now I'm all depressed and I feel shallow for comparing something so stupid to torture when there are people out there who are going through real pain.

I shouldn't blog when I've been drinking.

Here's the story:

I went to my acting class today (that would be Acting With the Camera, just in case you forgot) and watched the scene I had done last week. It was awful. And I know I say that, and you will all think it couldn't possibly have been that bad, but it was. Even Rachel said that she was watching it, thinking, "That's not Julia." She said it was like I wasn't even in my body. For some reason I got up there and I went through the motions of the scene, but I wasn't there. The last take I did was better, a little looser, but still not great. I was completely blocked. I'm still not even certain I can fully explain why that happened.

The problem with film is that it is so subtle, you don't really need to do a lot of work. You just have to be yourself in the role you are playing. I tried to tell Rachel that I wasn't anything like the role, so it was hard, but she said that wasn't true. That I was, in fact, perfect for the role. All I had to do was be me. But I can't do that. I'm afraid that just being me isn't enough. I'm afraid I'm not enough. And that's what's holding me back. Me.

It seems like such a little thing that I should be over in a second, but the truth is that we all spend our lives fighting with ourselves. The only person standing in our way is us. That's not the most elegant way of saying it, but it's a truth. Maybe even THE truth.

Well, the end of the story is that Rachel took me to get a drink, and we talked and I feel better, but I know that there is still a long road ahead.

Gosh. Sorry to turn so serious on you. I'm going to hang with my roomies now, but I'll keep you posted.

Later,
Jules