Over the Thanksgiving weekend, I fully intended NOT to watch the wunderkind that is the Twilight series, holding on to some principle that getting on the bandwagon is usually not a good idea and can result in a myriad of regrets. I don’t think I have to really elaborate here (like how I watched the movie everyday since Black Friday, then watched the commentary, bought the books, googled everyone, read their interviews, and listened to the soundtrack), you know where I’m going. I got on the wagon and I’m driving at full-speed. Though I cannot tolerate the knowledge that somehow Bella turns into a whining, stupid, naïve girl in book three, I am compelled to go there because I need to know what happens. I need details, and I need them now. I feel like I’m watching Romeo & Juliet for the first time – Will they? Won’t they? PLEASE LET IT ALL WORK OUT. TOGETHER4EVER.
Then last night I met some people, we had something to drink and I asked about Twilight: “Oh I hate Kristen Stewart as Bella, I have a friend who was up for that part, it was between Kristen and her, and she at least was relatable.” Agh. Whatever.
The discussion weaned away from Twilight and the multifarious possible actor/film/director choices to talk about making a living, and more about actors (because almost everyone there was, had been, or wanted to be at one time). In fact, several actors there had auditioned in front of the casting director that I was now talking to: “When you tell someone what you do, people in L.A. never actually believe you. In New York, if you say you’re an actor, there’s some credibility to that.”
And finally we discussed the holidays. A friend mused humorously about his Thanksgiving dinner with friends and acquaintances, during which he was told by a fellow dinner guest in an excited and possibly concerned manner, “OH MY GOD, you are so skinny!” while ironically holding only a salad.
My head might hurt this morning because either:
a) I’m too punch-drunk on twilight and its brood and I’ve overindulged
b) The particular vernacular of L.A. always sets in a certain depression(we’re all TRYING TO MAKE IT)
c) Obviously, I had WAY too much to drink last night. i.e. I might still be drunk (I stumbled and fell over when I got out of bed this morning).
NO SAINTS IN L.A. 
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