3 Years in Los Angeles: Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?

Before I moved to LA I asked every SF actor I knew who had attempted the "LA thing" for their advice. There seemed to be a general consensus that I was unlikely to see any traction until I'd been in LA at least three years. With that in mind, and knowing I'm just the sort of "cryin' ass little bitch" who would leave after just one year, I made a commitment to myself:

No matter how bad it gets. No matter how much I hate it. I have to stay in LA at least 3 years.

Today, August 1st 2010, marks my 3-year anniversary with the City of Angels. The question is: should I stay, or should I go?

To help myself answer that question, I have taken myself out on a date. I've imagined this date many times since arriving in LA. I imagined white table cloths, candles, fine silver, maybe a glass of wine or some sipping scotch. I would ruminate, then masticate, then ruminate some more. I would scratch my chin, and say "Hmmm..." in the delightful manner of esteemed intellectuals. I would order dessert and coffee. I would finish my last bite of tiramisu, sip my last sip, tip generously, and as I stood I would drop my napkin on the table. At the moment of impact, extraneous thought would leave my mind and all that would remain would be a stunning sense of clarity about acting, life, the universe, and everything.

That was the fantasy, here's the reality: My date is taking place in a Starbucks, not a fine Italian restaurant. I've sipped my last sip - through a green straw. Boy oh boy is real life different from the movies.

There has been no Siddhartha-style burst of enlightenment. Instead I've got an empty plastic cup, a tongue numb from chewing ice, and a mind just as muddled as the day before. Yet, nonetheless, I have reached a conclusion:

I'm staying in LA, and I'm staying in the acting game.

Thanks to all of my readers for keeping me company on this journey.