Why, sometimes, I get these pangs of — why did I ever decide to concentrate on my family story especially after so much hardship: the psychic period, in particular, as my thirties turned out to be so hard. But I always get up the morning… feeling a bit more settled about the matter. I have a stable job, even if I’m still working out the kinks, I don’t want to wait tables, but as I said to myself before I got back from my… terrible travels… that I couldn’t help where I was starting from, but I can try and move as fast as I can. So I have three auditions coming up. I’m just taking a breath, because these are all paid… I’m auditioning for NYU and Columbia grad. I’m auditioning for a panel of theater makers, on Monday, I feel like I’m on the edge of my seat, but I’m forcing myself to charge — I’m going to use my emotion and I won’t forget logic, that’s a good one. I picked a scene for Columbia, Osage Country. These are so short, but an older sister, I’m so excited, even if I’m strapped for cash, and I am finding my footing. I feel a bit thrown out of a canon, but I’m working on a piece for EPIC, I think it’s getting better — it’s just, there’s no real end… I don’t know what that is yet. But I guess I would say I feel close to something — breaking through some kind of wall, I mean, in general, but I’m not done with a book yet, and I keep reading, because I don’t know how I want to do it, but it’s coming along. I keep reading. I keep trying to move that forward. I was nervous, spending money before I totally have it, type deal, as I’m just getting on my feet, just trying to stabilize, but I feel great about it— I chose an emotional monologue, something raw, I just have to be mindful of time, since I didn’t think about that initially. But for the theater people I should be fine, I just have to get into a room and jump around for an hour and get the text totally anchored and my timing clear. I’ll get into a rehearsal room where I can yell, unleash my voice, before I head in, and I’m going to make my rent next month, and I’m trying to just trust and throw myself out there. I could not have done this twenty years ago, which I’ve struggled with, but now I can, I got nervous as fuck, but that’s passed, so I’m excited. I can’t wait. So that’s it, and now I gotta go work, wake up at 5:30 AM and keep finishing my weekend. And I’ll go pick up some headshots on Monday — three months in, three months, ten days. I got here fast. So — the ghost of Barbara Harris and I will be in the teens this evening, as sometimes she appears in my mind when I’m sad, and she helps me organize my checks. It’s good, it’s funny, the ghost of Barbara Harris is haunting/helping me.