I turned down a job offer from Quentin Tarantino's producer today. I've also decided the time has come for a blog-reinvention.
Granted, it was an offer to be his personal assistant (not even his first, his lowly, grocery-shopping second) but still. It took me a long time to come to this decision, and I think I can still feel a phantom leg kicking myself subconsciously. This ties into the renovation of this page because I could've so easily and happily taken this job, because I wanted it. I really did. I could feel my lips forming the vowels out, "yeeeeees," without a breath behind it. I would get a paycheck. I'd work hard, and often, and want to work well. I would do a good job for him, and be proud of it.
But I would change, and become the other Teresa, the one who goes out to bars and shops intensely at Express, and carries clutches. The one who is confident in how the world works: wake, work, play, sleep. Sometimes I wish I was that other girl, the one who sees movies only for fun, and sees manila envelopes without envisioning headshots inside of it. I would tell every person I meet to be that other me, rather than this one, because this Teresa struggles, and lives twelve lives at once, on a good day. I highly suggest living just one, if you can help it.
I never said this blog would be about anything other than me. I've only ever written here for myself, but it's gotten all messy, because I forget what I'm writing about sometimes. Just like I forget what I'm working for sometimes. And, in the case of rent jobs, it's not to afford pretty, pricey things, it's for that paycheck, so I can pay for the other things I really want more than a purse: classes, websites, pictures, networking events, bla bla bla. (Sometimes I really loathe all I know how to write about is myself. BOR-ing.) So. Tdawg4eva is getting a makeover, in the effort, that I too will give myelf one. I've gotten lost in the mess, and have stopped working for what I want, and have gotten caught up in working for...stability.
I think it was St. Augustine who said you should cherish your poverty, and love it, because it keeps the artistic drive alive. Then again, St. Augustine is a saint, and completely dead, and I'm neither of those things. So I'm not being too mean to myself about sometimes cherishing designer handbags over my lofty artistic poverty. This blog will now be about another actor's life, not to write a witty internet sensation that might get me Julie Powell's good luck, but to keep me on track. Because if I'm going to give up a job I could've loved, betrayed my other self once again, then I better make this poor girl's life worthwhile.
Sigh. I really loved Kill Bill 2.