6:14PM, November 22, 2009.

I’m writing this on a pad of paper. I’m in my trailer. My call time was 1PM but I got a call at 8:15AM asking me to “be here NOW.” So I drove from the Valley to Culver City and made it before 9AM. That’s Sunday traffic, for you. It’s now 6:15PM. I have done nothing. Not completely true- I’m in hair and makeup. But aside from that……zip.

If I were staying in Los Angeles, this would make me mad. This would be a situation where I sit in my 8’x3′ trailer (actually they opened up the other half for me so it’s 8’x6′!) all day and rail against THE INDUSTRY. “I had THINGS to DO today!” I would scream in my head. Which is true. But I see how futile that is. Yes, my day has been spent alone in a small metal box trying not to fall asleep on my french-twisted hairdo. It’s not easy to do. I didn’t bring enough things with me to maintain my focus. No TV. My phone battery is almost dead and I cannot read any more of The Artist’s Way. I’m simply TOO inspired, Julia Cameron.

Being in this box reminds me of a particular episode of Law & Order: SVU. Detective Stabler checked himself into prison to see what all the fuss was about. Chris Meloni acted his pants off. He had visions and night sweats and started talking to himself. When the guard came to let him out, he was beside himself. I was, similarly, relieved a little while ago when a fly wandered in here and I got to try to make him leave. It only took about a minute (again, it’s not a large space) but at least it was variety. Most of the day, my excitement has been waiting for my bladder to fill so I can walk the 10 feet to the bathroom. Craft service is far away (which is good). I’ve been over there only twice today. Not bad for 9 hours. I’ve had some almonds, a very hard pear, some Snackwell’s and a Diet Dr. Pepper. Yes, I’m hungry.

What else? Well, my tailbone hurts. And earlier today- maybe 6 hours ago?- I did manage to take a 20-minute nap. I found the precise position that did not disturb my hair or makeup. I was on my stomach on the padded bench in here with my face gingerly propped on the top right corner of my forehead. I may have slipped a disc in my neck, but by God, my lipstick was still intact.

I feel forgotten about. The security guy said to me, “You’re still here? Hey, why are you here anyway?” Good question, Ramón. And one that we should ask ourselves every day. I have an irrational fear that the Honeywagon driver is just going to close up shop for the night and drive away with me in here. By the time the Terrified Maid gets to the set she will be the….God, I don’t know, I can’t think of anything glib. I just want to go home. It’s now 6:29PM. That only took 15 minutes?!?!?!?!

UPDATE: I got called to the set about 7:30PM. We wrapped at 8:20PM. We did two shots of Seth in which my rump passes by. Glad I didn’t disturb my hair. Oh, Hollywood!

UPDATE: I had a good night’s sleep and reread this. It sounds ungrateful. I’m not saying that being in a movie and sitting in a trailer is like being in Darfur, I’m just saying it can be lonely and boring. Oh, blogs!

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