Well, I've got a crush on a dead chick.

Cheesy tribute website aside, Carson just looks so Bill-dateable.

"McCullers displayed a great amount of musical talent as a young girl. When she was seventeen, she traveled to New York City to attend the Julliard School of Music, but she lost her tuition money on the subway. Unable to pursue her interest in music, she began taking writing courses at Columbia. She published her first story 'Wunderkind' when she was only nineteen (damn her), and her first novel 'The Heart is a Lonely Hunter' when she was only twenty-three (double damn her)...Unfortunately, when she was in her late twenties, she suffered a series of strokes that left her partially paralyzed and severely limited her ability to write."

God, that's tragic. Scary, too. Yet another reminder not to fuck around and waste time.

Anyway. Now that everyone is thoroughly depressed...

No, actually, not wasting time is a lesson I've been trying to take to heart. Which is why I've been bad at responding to email, talking to people on AIM, and generally doing anything else I've told people I was going to do. Like I was telling Louise the other day, I have less than three months here in Chicago, so I've been really trying to live in Chicago.

Today might turn out to be interesting. Remember the semester in Los Angeles program, the whole reason for my big move? Well, the school sends people out there every semester, and there happens to be a kid out there right now who is taking the production concentration (as opposed to the writing concentration, which is what I'll be doing). Production students do have to do some of the same things as Writing students, which is, at the end of the program, pitching an idea to a real life executive. I guess he doesn't have any of his own work to pitch, as a professor at the school called me up and pleaded with me to send him a script of mine. Since the professor vouched for him, I emailed him my television pilot and let him go ahead and pitch that.

He made the pitch last Friday. He called me on Saturday, and told me that the executive (it'd be nice if I knew exactly who the exec is with, but I don't) is looking for features (films) right now, but that he would take my pilot "into consideration." Cool. At the very least, I'm going to get notes, or "coverage," on my script from a professional. This is great for me because you don't normally get coverage on a script unless it's been optioned (this is probably the last bit of showbiz speak I'll inflict upon you today: having something 'optioned' means that they're interested in it, but they might not necessarily produce it...they will, however, give you cold hard cash to let them hold on to it for a few months while they think about it).

So, in general: That's good. I'm supposed to get the notes some time after today. The ultimate fantasy, of course, is that they buy it, give me money, and then have me come out there to start writing for it.

This would allow me to get Grandma that operation. And save the family farm.

Realistically, this has an astronomically small chance of happening. Then again, doesn't CBS have a new show about a talking baby?

What the fuck? Were there some vital areas of smart ass baby humor that were left unexplored in 'Look Who's Talking,' 'Look Who's Talking Now,' or 'Look Who's Talking Too'? Did animated mouth technology finally advanced to an ultimate stage? Did someone's inbred nephew need a job? What has happened here?

Oh, and here's some breaking news: I just found out that I am "overqualified, and would probably get bored" for a temp job that would have paid me $11/hour for a good chunk of time until I left for California. Well. Great. That's the second time that's happened. That means that today will be yet another day of filing at the high school. Argh.

The universe is clearly trying to make me suffer now for the eventual success I'll enjoy.

My success will most likely not involve talking babies.