"Much Ado About Nothing"

If I were to write my autobiography right now I would have to bite the Bard's style and call it "Much Ado About Nothing". It sort of seems to sum up my existence right now. Busting my ass to shoot sketches, write stories/screenplays, generally do awesomeness and nobody else seems to really give a shit. Perhaps it's just a symptom of our society right now. After W. fucked over our affairs so badly nobody has time to write a stranger and go "hey, your movie was really good. Thanks for making it". It doesn't even have to be positive, even "hey, you are doing some good work but here is where you are lacking. Make the following changes...." would be nice. I know I'm not some sort of unqualified genius.

Maybe I need a mentor of some sort? I wish I could just write Paul F. Tompkins and be like "let me live in your basement and just tell me how to get noticed and be on point all the time like you. You can just feed me bread and water. It's cool".

I know it's not exactly cool to complain and I know it's been done to death and truth of the matter is that my life is pretty good. I have a decent job that pays the bills/rent, free movies (both on video and theatrical releases), a small but great group of friends and a nice house with a great roommate.

It's just a bit discouraging at the end of the day to find no missed calls, no e-mails, no nothing encouraging me to not just settle, marry a fatty and move to the suburbs. Sigh. Never has a word has so much meaning for me than "sigh" right now. It sums up me at the moment. I wish I could just answer with a sigh when somebody asks me how I'm doing.

"How are you, Jason?"

I respond with a sigh.

"Uhhh...Ok? I'm going to just go now".

I gotta stuff my sorries in a sack, Mister. Maybe push-ups is the answer? Just do push-ups out in a cabin in the woods for the Winter until I am at one with the universe. It can't hurt, right?