Skip, Skip, Skip

As you can tell from my last few blog posts, I have become even more frustrated (if that’s possible) with the process of trying to become a real, live working actor (Pinoccs, I feel ya, brother).  In this business, there are by far more doors slamming in your face than opening.  It’s the march of futility, the dance of the smitten, the goal of the insane.  And for someone who wants a house, a yard, pocket change (something, by the way, that was actually attainable for the middle class way back when…), I often wonder if I’m just running in the hamster wheel.

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