chapter 15, wherein ester learns that working in entertainment isn't as much fun as you might think

oh, life. i'm sitting here crying to deirdre flint -- and when goofy folk-singers are pushing your buttons, you know you're in trouble.

i've been doing that thing again, that thing where i feel like if i do my best to change, i can (without directly asking!) convince someone else to change too. the realization hit me yesterday, with all the subtlety of a comet, that some people just are the way they are: you can't force them to be grateful, appreciative, sensitive or kind -- not by simply setting a cheery example. what the hell is wrong me? i know that! in another life, i'll bet i was a nun.

what's particularly maddening about this realization is i JUST LEARNED THIS LESSON. that's why i left my monster flatmate and moved to my new apartment! i realized I COULDN'T MAKE HER BE NICE TO ME JUST BY BEING NICE TO HER. do lessons always come in twos? to keep each other company? i'll bet lessons do it while you're not watching. those inconsiderate bastards. next thing you know, they'll spawn and little lessons will follow you in packs, giggling and nipping at your heels and bickering with each other, until the day you die.

on a brighter note, i go home this weekend for passover and -- see my childhood house for possibly the last time, because my parents are putting it on the market. on no! that's not a brighter note at all! shit.

bright note, bright note. i played pinochle on tuesday night with the flamboyant son a famous and recently deceased actor, and i get to do it again this coming tuesday. the game's host promised to make me hard-boiled eggs to replace the usual pizza-and-beer refreshments. oh, passover: the original lo-carb diet.