Listening To Cupid by Sam Cooke

I am so tired. I have worked until the wee hours of the California morning for about a week now and tonight is going to be the hardest night of all. There has been a couple very frustrating moments for me as I look around a room filled with some powerful, if not THE most powerful people, in Hollywood and can do nothing except serve them a drink. There are people that would kill for an opportunity like I have and all I do is sit by and wait. Alas, I was not made to be overbearing. The first leg of the trip is winding down - the work part that is - and I just booked a little car on Enterprise for the remainder. The loose itinerary goes as follows:

Tuesday - Friday - stay in Los Angeles with a woman I have never met named "Cha-Cha"
Friday - Sunday - Go Down to San Diego to visit my friend Tucker for a few days maybe hit the beach.
Monday - Wednesday - I have no idea. We'll see what the week brings.

Things out here have been really good although I feel like I have never worked so hard in my life. My nails are crushed/shattered from opening so many Red Bull cans (Red Bull is disgusting by the way). My hands are cut and scraped and bleeding from nonchalantly picking up pieces of shattered glass. I've moved furniture, unclogged toilets, served food, made drinks, swept up puke, broken down boxes, taken out trash, cut bread, pureed watermelon, scrubbed fridges, sat in a freezing cold jacuzzi drunk on $100 dollar champagne and have only finished the first half of my trip.
I miss my apartment and my bed and my things. I miss my jackets and scarves and sweaters. I miss my friends and my bar in Brooklyn. I miss my family. I miss my alarm clock. Not what it does but how it does it. I miss my Bose sound dock. There are a lot of things I miss about New York. But maybe there are some things I should change. Maybe I should look beyond the city where I presently live and look at other options. After all, you are only young once.
Tonight's the Oscars. I hope Clooney wins at least one.