I don�t know what it�s been about FadeIn lately, but I haven�t really been feeling it. I want each entry to swagger into the room, pin you against the wall, and make love to you like you�ve always secretly wished it would. Instead, I feel like my entries have been more like an obese, debauched, boor of a royal figure of indeterminate sexuality that slumps in a bejeweled throne making lame attempts at wit in between belches of greasy pheasant.

You know the feeling.

My life has settled into this nice little routine. A few weeks ago, I would have killed for a little taste of structure, and now that I have it, it�s great, and I�m not complaining. I have stuff to do and I�m being given money to do it, and I can pay my rent and eat without worry. Now that those basics are taken care of, I need something more. The next step up on the hierarchy of needs is some kind of project that�s going to move me forward.

Between the IO and the short film, I�m already performing as much as I can without getting new headshots, so it looks like I�m going to try to tackle a writing project. Well, when I can, anyway. I don�t feel like I ever have any time.

Again, not complaining. In fact, I made excellent use of my time yesterday. Robin cooked for me earlier in the week, so I returned the favor last night. She brought a bottle of white wine, and I made grilled chicken, steamed broccoli and baked potato. Earlier in the day, she and I had rehearsed the scene from the film we�re in together, then we had dinner and spent some quality time together.

And, really, it�s not a new sentiment, I know, but what more does one need? It was a day filled with the arts, good food, good company, and sweet sweet sweetness.

So. Things? They�re swell.