…that you’re just too damn old.

My diabolical-self-deprecating-hair-shirt inner voice screamed that at me this afternoon during snack time (an apple with peanut butter).

I was standing at the kitchen counter minding my own goddamn binuss, basking in the joy of becoming a finalist in the Austin Film Festival screenwriting competition and WHAM!  Fuck you and your joy, you peri-menopausal moron!

God, I hate that voice.

They make movies about inner voices like that.

Like Summer of Sam.

Where the hell is Spike Lee when I need him, huh??

So that inner voice kept taunting me until I devoured an entire jar of peanut butter (846 grams of fat) with a wooden spoon…the apple didn’t last long….and chugged half a gallon of milk (another 450 grams) and two Snickers (why the fuck do I buy these???).

For the record, my inner voice sounds strikingly similar to Glenn Close as Cruella DeVille (“Catch those puppieessss!”).

Glenn as Cruella said (mockingly of course):  “You’re gonna get to Austin and they’re gonna say to you ‘ We love your work, but Hollywood wants…how should we put it?… young…and that’s not you’.  Sorry.”

What a bitch that voice is.

I really hope that doesn’t happen.

Generally…..I’m not such a pussy….really….I’m not!

I do not like feeling this way.

It will pass.

It always does.