goddamn dirty bipeds

look, my life isn't terrible. i'm not going hungry (i'm actually developing two mini paunches), i've got a job that i both enjoy and excell at, and i earn a pretty decent salary - so why am i so fucking miserable? long story short, i'm unhappy because i'm obsessed with television.

i'm a bit of an obsessive-compulsive type character and i've recently developed this fascination with actors; not with individual actors per se but with the art of acting. see, i want to be an actor, to be in a film, to make people laugh, to make them cry, in short i want to be part of the creative process. but in all my googleing i've yet to find one successful centaur actor. i don't know... it's just... hell, i don't know.

it's hard when you don't see anyone that looks like you represented on film. i haven't seen a centaur in a television show or movie since Hercules and Xena went off the air. even then, i'm pretty sure they were bipeds c.g.i.'d up to look like centaurs. sometimes, i'll be watching a show like the office and i'll be totally immersed in it when , all of a sudden, i become acutely aware of the fact that I am, in fact, not a part of thier world. Despite the fact that the the office is designed to mimic the world i do inhabit, it's a sanitized treatment of it; it's a world inhabited by actors, human actors with their perfect human legs and buttocks. every episode of the office is an exclusionary tome, reiterating my difference, reinforcing my alienation, and reminding me that i am not what society wants to see.
i'd love to be an actor. i'd love to create something that someone could relate to. i'd also like to get laid but the women on lavalife aren't interested in centaurs. "i'm looking for personality, blah, blah, blah." BULLSHIT! you're looking for guy that's 6" taller than you, has a rippling six-pack, and is ridiculously goodlooking. well, i'm a nice guy, i'm good looking, and unlike the tall stud in the spring break picture, i'm not a date rapist. i guess some traits are more important than others (read: human legs)
sorry about the bitter post
t-shirted centaur