Last week, I gave my official notifications to my agents. I’m not leaving until October 14th, but the process had really been weighing on me so I went ahead and did it. I was very concerned about how they would react. Mostly because a lot of people that I had told already had not reacted favorably. About 15% of people that I have told have had a totally positive, accepting reaction. Something like, “Congratulations!” “That’s great,” or “Will you have a bedroom for me?” But the other 85% start with an incredulous, “WHY?!?” then follow it up with a disgusted, “What are you going to DO?” and top it with the cherry, “Ugh. It’s so HOT there.” Now, I know that these reactions are a reflection of THEM and that they are just SCARED and blahdeblahdeblah. But it gets to me. I’m a Libra and I hate to fight. Look it up on any astrology site and they’ll tell you as much. So I get defensive. I list all the reasons I am moving and I start to sound desperate and sad and then I hear the desperation and sadness in my voice and I think, “Oh God, I AM desperate and sad” and then I get really hot and start to cry. So I definitely wanted to avoid that.

First stop, Starbucks then on to Santa Monica to see my theatrical agents (TV and Film). Let me sum it up this way: 30 minutes of Hot Face and Tears. Had a Jamba Juice afterwards. To replenish.

Second Stop, Commercial Agents- the next day. Anxious stomach. Preparing for the worst. It was a wonderful experience. My agent for 10 years, Pam, just hugged me, said she was happy for me and then we chatted for 40 minutes. Tears but not hot face. And the tears were from relief. This deserved an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. And so I bought one.

Third Stop, Voiceover Agents. No tears. Slight hot face. They offered to continue to represent me in Austin! Bought a good microphone for home recording of auditions. And a tuna fish sandwich.

The whole thing felt a bit like what I imagine coming out would be. I felt like I had been living a sort of lie this year. I was secretive and evasive with certain people. I talked about my dreams in hushed tones in dark alleys. But not now! I’m out and proud! I’m moving, people! To a town where there is much less Industry! I’m going to get a job at Whole Foods and cut my hair off! Headshots be damned! And I don’t care what you think of me! I’m going to give myself a Huge Parade. Or at least some snacks.

I tackled cleaning out my closet yesterday afternoon. It seemed like a very good Sunday activity. I collect vintage cocktail dresses. I have about 8 of them. My favorite designers are Ceil Chapman and Fred Perlberg. I have worn 4 of them on different occasions and I have the photos to prove it, thank god. Because I decided to try them all on yesterday. I strapped on my girdle, prepared myself for elegance and promptly discovered that 3 of them don’t fit. At all. And one of them I have never worn. Now, I bought these dresses over the course of about 3 years on eBay. In those 3 years, I was also in the throes of a rather robust unrequited love situation. It was as hardy as kudzu. I tend to not eat when I am depressed or lovesick and these dresses are proof that I must have looked really good. Maybe I should go back to it. If only for the 24″ waist.

I didn’t finish cleaning out my closet yesterday. I got distracted by yet another episode of “Law & Order” that I have already seen 43 times. Damn you, Sam Waterston! I had some ice cream and played with the cats and thought about one day fitting into those dresses again. They went right back into the closet. They’ll be perfect Parade Wear.

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