My postings are growing infrequent. As much as I'd like to allocate hours towards the worthy cause of entertaining E at her overstimulating job, I've found myself focusing more on well...myself.
Before you call me a self-centered jerkface, hear me out. I'm doing it for us. That's right, us.
This is us.
So what exactly am I doing? I am...drumroll, please...going Hollywood on ya'll!
*waits for snickers to subside*
That's right, this Michigan boy is ready to become a TV writer out here in LA.
Wait a second, you toolbag. You've already been out in LA four years and all you have to show for it is IKEA furniture and an overpriced neon clock! What makes you think you'll ever make it?
Fair enough. I concede I've spent most of the last four years doing this:
chinky eyes, take two!
and this
asleep at the wheel...
Still, reflecting on my time out here as an immature gamboholic I managed to accomplish the following:
1. Write coverage for an independent film company.
2. Intern for the acquisitions and development departments of the Weinstein company.
3. Work production for a scripted television show.
4. Work as a production coordinator for an Emmy winning reality TV show.
5. Write as a journalist and reporter for both a print magazine and sports newspaper.
Not too shabby, right?
There remains one gaping hole on my resume...
5. Work as a television writer.
If I can make this happen I can woo E out west with my lucrative salary where she can roam freely in the warm pastures (unintentional cow metaphor!) of Southern California.
My vision of utopia is cruising along the Pacific Coast Highway in my rice rocket Camry with this bodacious broad at my side:
Every picture of E is a good picture to me :)
Here's the rub (there's always a rub). I can't make it happen overnight.
This adorable face sums up how difficult a long distance relationship really is.
Haarrumph!
Seeds of doubt and uncertainty flourish in the twisted tree of long distance relationships. These seeds occasionally sprout into unfounded feelings of paranoia, suspicion, and jealousy. Lying precariously close beneath each dainty twig holding us together are the weeds of apathy and selfishness.
The modern inventions of videochat, cellphones, and sexting, I mean texting, are the glue that holds us together in a neverending cycle of longing and loneliness. The reality is that these outlets can only provide a temporary and artifical solution to a permanent problem.
For me, the physical absence of E is an indescribable void. I desire her on so many levels. Do I entertain occasional doubts about our relationship? Sure, but at the end of the day I always find myself faithfully returning to her corner, begging her to wind me up for another whirl in the life of Crazycakes.
I understand that Crazycakes is a creature that requires companionship. She is prone to floundering and entertaining fleeting moments of doubt and unfaithfulness. Her unabashed freudian slips simultaneously hurt, entertain, and befuddle me. Sometimes I wish I could snap out of her masochistic spell but there's a big part of me that just wants to sit back and enjoy her neverending ride of unpredictability. Quite simply, E fascinates me. I've never met a girl like her and I'm not certain I ever will.
So what other option do I have if I can't lure her out here with a trail of coconut macaroons?
Look who's bringing the metallic muscle tee look back East!
There's the option of moving to Crazycakes central: New York, New York. I was inches away from signing off on this move until I got struck with a serious case of cold feet during the eleventh hour of my fictional deadline.
There's no question this move is good for us. I find myself writing into the wee hours of the morning (3:18AM) on my all time favorite topic: Emma. I promised myself I wouldn't do this anymore. I feel a cathartic nirvana when I write about her. I revel in the knowledge that she will eventually stumble upon each new entry and read my proclamations of LIKE to her. If I can make her smile or feel special just once it's worth the long hours I toil over a specific word or metaphor to describe her.
It's moments like these that make me want to pack my bags and head East. Will I be sacrificing potential opportunities if I do so? Probably. Conventional wisdom in today's modern world suggests this is a foolish move doomed to end in misery and regret, but I've never lived my life based on conventions. What ever happened to putting love first? Who says you can't make life work together? Is blind love truly such a terrible instrument of self destruction in today's world? Or have we become so vain and jaded that we can no longer grasp the concept of selfless love anymore?
My indecision is eating me alive.
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