My full-time job right now is editing and rewriting my first completed novel, which I’m tentatively calling Swingnacht. Thank God the first draft is terrible and full of plot-holes because putting all of my energy into this story helps me avoid the frustration and misery that comes with not working or going to school full time. It’s nice to have very little to do for about five minutes, but soon I get restless and feel purposeless and need to run around and be a little stressed out for a while. I also put a lot of that free time into ballet class of course, but that’s such an everyday kind of thing that it’s not enough to keep my mind busy. I’m also sinking back into my gym addiction, which is a good thing since I’d like to lose about 5 pounds and get in better shape for auditions in the fall and swim suit season in general. My gym is right down the street and open 24 hours a day meaning I’ll probably end up on the elliptical machine and in the swimming pool at odd hours of the night when I can’t sleep.
In other news, I need to go to the used bookstore to pick up some books from my summer reading list and start contacting more studios about substitute teaching this summer.
It’s difficult to adapt to life back in San Antonio. I feel like I’d just completed my real conversion to “city girl” and now I just feel totally out of my element. I mean you actually have to talk to people you pass on the street or run into in an elevator here. You have to drive. You can’t have everything delivered. You can’t text your best friend at one in the morning and decide to meet for coffee at a 24 hour cafe in the village. On the bright side, everything is less expensive, I have my own bedroom and I have a dog. Also, I think those people I call my “real life friends” are around here somewhere.
I’m thinking about attaching a letter reading “Help! I’m being forced to stay in Texas against my will. I’m trapped in the red brick house on the North Central side of San Antonio near the Barnes & Noble and the ice rink! Come rescue me!” to an arrow and shooting it outside my bedroom window Monty Python style. Maybe a closet homosexual knight will come galloping to my front door with coconuts.
“I miss New York. Take me Home.” <- 50 Keeler Points to anyone who knows where this quote is from. (Yes, I ended that sentence in a preposition.)