This blog began as an honest and open forum for me to explicitly state how I am feeling and what I am doing with regard to my attempt to try living in Los Angeles. For weeks now, I have been reluctant to write. I didn’t want to share the black feelings and sadness and, frankly, self-hate. But those feelings are real, and they’re mine, so… I can’t pretend.

Last week I ended up on the floor of my apartment in the fetal position bawling uncontrollably. What did I do? What have I done? How is it possible that I took my savings - savings earned by the boredom, sweat and tears of working at a job I didn’t like, but that afforded me the opportunity to basically audition at my leisure - and not only threw it away, but dug a hole equally as deep? And now I’m back to being jobless; hunting for work that will allow me to audition in a market that is bad enough if I was just looking for any type of job.

What did I do? What was I thinking? Why why why???

I am writing this from a temp assignment. I’m 35 and a temp. Which isn’t a terrible thing, but it feels terrible when I went from being 34 with a regular job that paid me well and respected me as an artist, to having to scrounge for crappy day-long assignments at places that… make my heart mold over.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be writing this now. The sun-less chamber that is this investment banking company’s reception area isn’t exactly inspiring the best, most positive attitude.

So what’s the moral of the story kids? I don’t know. Given the opportunity again, would I still give it a whirl? I’d like to think that I still would have the courage to try. But I also think maybe the greater lesson is just patience and wisdom. And now I just feel stupid, and like I will forever be in the black, without the means or the opportunity to ever again pursue what I love.

And yes, I’ve been down this path before, and I made it. After about 8 years. But I don’t want to go backward. And I especially don’t want it to take 8 years to get me back on track.

I had it all and I was stupid. Or something like it. I wish… I wish I could click my heels together and go back in time. Isn’t that terrible? I was so happy to be in NYC that I didn’t care when my apartment was broken into, when I got hives for 3 weeks, and when my heart got a little bit trampled on. I just want to know that it will all be ok. That the damage isn’t permanent and can be easily reversed. But I worry. I am very, very scared.