If I fight and if her army falls to my fire, she will be the only war I come home from. (Day 144)

Long nights are killer nights.

This medication is not working right. It was, but now I just...either the levels are entirely too low, or this is completely wrong medication for me. It's so hard not to wind up wanting to just give up entirely on this entire thing. At least I gave it the old college try.

I'm not as optimistic as I wanted to be. Before, I could just look back and know my corner had someone that would stand with me against whatever army would be presented. Not that I'd ever really ask for back up, or anything, but it was the comfort in knowing that I could.

Today was a really big day for me. All I've worked for for God knows how many years. And the outcome is that I really, really need an agent, and I don't like that idea. But, what're you gonna do? Maybe I could have one for a while, get myself established, and then cut the cord. But for the time being, somehow I have to get an agent, which I don't know anything about...but I know is probably something really expensive, and money right now is not something I have any money for. I don't have any money, period. Even working a full time job, I wouldn't. I have no fucking clue what I should or could do.

To break it down, since I've had my meeting with them and everything:

Shitty movies can change your life. Trust me.

I was sitting and watching a movie with a friend of mine, and she turned to me, and maybe it was the booze talking, because I don't have enough talent to turn on a motion activated light switch, but she turns to me and says, "Aaron, you could do so much better than this. So much better than anything else we see."

And God save me, I truly did believe it at the time, because well...oh, I'm drunk at that moment. So we go with it, and we contact this movie studio who you may have heard of, may have not, I don't know.

Turns out they reciprocated my initial contact, and were interested in at least hearing me out.

So you flash forward to today, and I'm speaking with people who have more money in their wallet on a little plastic card marked "debit" that I ever have, or ever will. We're talking, and it's going well, and then they ask who is my representation. I reply, uh...you're talking to him.

Unfortunately, they can't accept ideas that don't have the proper representation. So it's not a bad thing, nor a good thing. It is what it is, and in order to properly fail, I have to have some dude in a suit sitting with me waiting for his next pittance from me. That's it, basically.

But the thing is, today should have been nerve wracking. It should have been terrifying and exciting, but speaking to these guys I remembered that I'm not a half bad actor myself, in that I couldn't give a shit less to what they said but still came across excited and happy and I wasn't nervous at all. It just doesn't matter to me what happens with that. I've got nothing to prove to myself or anyone else, not because I'm oh so accomplished...but more of...

What's the point? Who cares? Who honestly cares? Especially when I don't.

And it kind of sucks, in a sense? Because a year ago, three months ago...this is what I wanted more than anything. And now, to finally be talking to some one, and being put on the right direction, and having that 'feeling' where if you just put forth the effort, it'll come to fruition...not enjoying that, or being nervous and excited, it kind of sucks. It kind of sucks to be talking to the dudes responsible for American Psycho, Saw, Weeds, Dogma and of course...the beloved "Madea" series, and them telling you all these good things, and what to do to approach that next step, and be so...meh about it.

Who knows? Maybe I'll get some agent and fail properly. Or I'll get some agent and be able to pay bills one day. We'll see, I guess.

-Until tomorrow.