Once again, glitz and glam overtook the sleezy strip of Hollywood Blvd. that plays host to The Academy Awards, and once again, the stars delivered--Nicole Kidman's big ass "back bowtie" aside. For whatever reason I just can't seem to avoid getting all wrapped up in the spectacle, despite the post-viewing depression that consumes me when I realize -- I am a failure. Let's review the facts, shall we?

1. I used to have a job where part of my compensation was an apartment--as in free, no rent, no utilties, no cable, no bills period.
2. I quit said job.
3. I now share an apartment, for which there are many bills.
4. I am a temp.
5. I have not been, nor am I on a track to be, at the Oscars.
6. Did I mention I have no job?

I moved to Los Angeles (no, not to become famous) to become a line producer for features or television. Right now I'm temping at an agency. They love me, and have made me an offer to stay, yet why does part of me have some weird aversion to landing a full time gig here? Oh that's right, because I won't be line producing.

I interviewed at Fox as well--I thought things went really well, but the VP hasn't made an official decision yet. Please buddy, take all the time you need. My livelihood isn't really that important.

I know that there are many paths to each person's ultimate goal, but could someone just push me in one direction please?