On the way back to find out which show I would be working on (the answer is, I will be an unpaid stage manager for Midsummer Night's Dream, thank you very much), I ran into a cast member for Hair. The theatre I'm working at is right down the street from the Hirschfield theatre, where Hair is being performed. I still haven't seen it by the way.

On the way back, about 20 minutes ago, I'm relatively certain that I walked passed Gavin Creel, hidden under a black jacket and a beanie.

Long story short. I want to work there.
Yeah, I know, patience: good things come to those who wait. But I want it now. I am the Veruca fucking Salt of theatre and I don't want to wait. If I get this next internship for the summer, it's the last internship I'll ever be taking. I just want to be mediocre in what I love, and make slightly enough money to survive.

I understand this means eventually getting a PhD and being a teacher.
I'm allright with that.

And walking back, it was really lonely knowing that I would be spending the rest of the night sitting at my computer. But I guess I'll just get back to writing. I want so badly to jump into the fray, to immediately work on a big name show, even though that's impossible.

Hello, Union, my name is Katie. I haven't been invited to this little shindig, but I'd love to gate crash.

I wonder where I'll be in 5 years. That means I'll be 28, almost 29, and I can't stomach the idea of still being... this.


Hey Alan Ball, hey Toby Whithouse, teach me your ways! Make me wonderful and fabulous.
And why are all my idols, men? One of whom doesn't even live in the same country as me?
This does not bode well.

That said, there's a really nice fella named Michael and the place where I work. and My director seems pretty cool. I'm going to sit in for callbacks on Monday. And I have to call my friend and let her know that my schedule's completely shot to shit.

And now, food. All I've eaten today is half a granola bar and a cup of coffee. At least film and television get food provided.