One door closes, another opens.
I've gone from Trader Joes, morning coffee trips with my roommate, random shopping with the housemates, bitching about the horrible work conditions, loving actors, hating bosses, sleeping at his house, and days in DC;
to Pel's and the Waffle House, getting kidnapped by my ladies, dodging people I hoped to never see again, getting phone calls and e-mails from everyone at the theatre who needs a hand, ignoring the passive-aggressive fights between my parents, and trying to find a way to my heart again.
This place kills me inside, a little, it always has. But I've got good people here who love me and that helps.
"That which does not kill you makes you stronger", right?
Fuck. I need a job.
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