An odd idea of "fun"

Okay. So here’s what I did. Last, I don’t know, I think it was in spring, I signed up for a talent agency. No. I’m not secretly harboring mad juggling skills. Or a set of super hot gams. It’s a “real people” talent agency. They specialize in work that involves people who are not models. And it don’t get any realer than me, baby cakes. I signed up partially out of curiosity. And partly from the same impulse that leads me to buy the occasional lottery ticket. I don’t think anything big will happen, but an extra $50 never hurts. Nothing happened, much. I got a few e-mails, but was never chosen for anything. No big.

So, I got my first call for a casting this morning. I’m starting to wonder if I made a mistake. This is bringing up major insecurities that I thought I’d let go of long ago. What if they think I’m too [fill in the blank with any number of shortcomings]? I’m trying to remember what a wise man once told me – they don’t know me; they don’t love me; they can’t reject me. Regardless, I’m feeling slightly 13. I don’t know how people who do this for a living do it. I’m feeling slightly erpy thinking about it, and I’m just doing it for . . . fun. Hmmm.

Anyway, the curiosity thing is definitely in full-force. I’m just going to be open to the experience. And of course, play girl reporter. Okay, it’s not exactly Diane Fossey venturing into the mist, but it’s definitely something I’d never be exposed to otherwise. I’ll let you know what happens.