My last show was May 8. A matinee.
The end was so strange, so disruptive. Three months of independence and simplicity: knowing where to go, knowing what to do, knowing what my job was.
Now, my job is sitting here, at home, working on writing a unit on AP Art History, or editing an audiobook, or scrolling through Reddit, trying to find the diet or the workout or the journaling exercise to get me back to that feeling of confidence and ease.
I can’t find it. It’s not there, no matter how hard I look. I know that, and that’s okay. These are the in-between moments. They are always like this.
I just wish I had something. An audition. My cash flow is horrible right now, and my heart is achy. I miss doing what I love. I hate waiting for things to happen. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can really do at the moment. I just have to wait.
I hate waiting.
(only sad pictures because I’m trying not to show my face… just realized how depressing this is)