I wish I was Addison Dewitt. All I would need to do is inform you that what you are seeing is taking place at the Sarah Siddons Society, tell you to ignore the old gentleman upfront talking, and introduce you to those who are only essential to the story (Margo Channing, Eve Harrington, Karen Richards, Lloyd Richards, and Max Fabian). I would be able to come full circle in just over 2 hours and deliver the best lines without much effort, all while making you realize that Eve Harrington is nothing less than a conniving backstabber.
Unfortunately, that's not reality.
It's a comforting thought to know that even the dullest and most boring lives are incredibly complicated, which has led me to believe that I may be going through what I call a "mid-youth crisis." I've been realizing that I'm practically over the hill in terms of my days of youth and vitality (though some would question whether I've had youth or vitality since the age of seven), because once people hit forty, they will at some point get cranky and possibly have a real crisis, which usually involves painting or multiple affairs. So unless they start taking Goldie Hawn's hormones, the craziness will begin.
Having this blog will allow me to comment on tidbits of my life that I find noteworthy to publish, as well as being a form of dealing with the fact that in twenty years, I probably will not have won an Oscar. And since my parents won't let me have a kitten for therapeutic purposes, a blog will have to do. But I'd rather have the kitten.
And an Oscar.