So last night, in an effort to eat the food that I have, I ate leftovers.

No really, I ate my leftover beef stroganoff and corn and beans rather than leaving them in the fridge until they are no longer recognizable as food--to quote George Carlin, "Could be meat, could be cake!"

The above, ladies and gentlemen, is why I have loyal readers who have been reading me every single day for almost six years. That's quality craftsmanship, that is.

Lately, I have been thinking alot about acting--though that's not it, it's more that I have noticed that I think alot about acting.

There are certain things that make us what we are, and who we are, things that are us forever, no matter what, like I'll always be Kimberly the blonde Angelino first, even though I've been Kymm the redheaded (or now pink-headed) New Yorker for nineteen and a half years. And for me, acting, being an actor is almost the first thing that I am.

The base of personality, of self, I think is sex--not fucking but female or male, that is the base on which everything is built. So first I am female, and second I am an actor. It's so much a part of me, that everything else filters through it. That looks ridiculous, until you realize that I don't remember ever not being an actor, I started taking class when I was three years old, my childhood is a muddle of auditions and plays and various sorts of classes, and it was all normal. Both of my parents are/were actors and never were anything else as long as I have been alive. All of their friends were actors, or at least in the business. I grew up on soundstages and backstage and visiting my dad on location.

I think the reason that I am noticing this is because I haven't worked yet this year, because my theatre company didn't get a grant that they usually get, so the late winter/early spring season has been less busy than usual, so my normal way of thinking is feeling peculiar.

It's like staring in the mirror so long that your face looks unfamiliar, you are able to get out of yourself to see yourself as someone that you don't know, that's what my thinking has been like lately.

And what I've been thinking lately is that acting is a really weird thing for an adult to do.

I'm sure that most civilians realized that a long time ago, but for me it's like I'm suddenly thinking that working 9-5 in an office is strange and unusual. I mean, think about it, acting is all about grown-ups working really hard to replicate reality, to manufacture emotion so that it appears to be real. This is their job. This is what my father got paid to do for something like sixty years.

How does this happen? How does a seemingly sensible person sit down with a script and learn the words and make them sound as though a person is thinking of them and saying them for the first time. How does a person pretend to be spontaneous and make people believe him? Acting is all about convincing an audience that what you are saying is true, when the audience knows perfectly well that is isn't.

And, my point being, this is what my father did and my mother does to make a living. And I, well, I don't get paid to do it, but I do it nonetheless.

I know, I know, these thoughts aren't new, but they are so new to me that they make my head spin. This is what I do, this is who I am, this is what my family and most of my friends and my parents' friends do and are, and it is completely impossible to take seriously.

Hearing Dennis Quaid talk about his brother Randy Quaid, or Shirley MacLaine talk about her brother Warren Beatty, it seems as real to me as if they were playing siblings in a movie, like Julia Roberts and Kyra Sedgwick in Something to Talk About, only Julia and Kyra are more believable.

I see Dennis and Randy or Shirley and Warren and think "That's really bad casting, who'd believe that they were related?"

Lenten entries missed:

I certainly didn't miss much from Bethany, seeing as she only updated once while I was gone. She doesn't care about saving my soul, no siree! But anyway, that one lone entry is a good one, she got a job in the States!

Today's horoscope:
If you listen closely today, you'll hear a clue about what to get someone near and dear for next birthday.

One year ago today:
Thank Christ they are all starting earlier than I can make it, because two hours is about my limit before I start choking on my tongue with boredom.

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Last Updated Wed 10 April 00:08:09 2002