I've been living in Atlanta now for four and a half months. I'm sitting tonight in my little attic apartment with the door open to let in the cool Fall air. Tomorrow morning I will go four blocks down the street and spend the day working as an office PA for a film production company, helping to coordinate commercials, corporate videos and even indy films. And then in the evening I will go rehearse for a hilarious Christmas improv show at the theater that I have been playing in since I was barely drinking age. I will sneak out afterward to have dinner with two amazing German directors who came in to town five weeks ago to help us put up a Fassbinder play in Decatur. They will be leaving on Wednesday to go back to Berlin, and I will be close on their heels. Well, maybe I'll wait til Spring, but it will be difficult to be patient until then - the work we did together was some of the best work I think I've ever done.
I'm on the stage again. I'm trying to pay my bills doing things that I am proud of - voice overs, production work, plays... It's not glorious. But it's what I can give and keep giving, because it doesn't drain my heart. I love being busy, I love being challenged, and I love being close to my family.
I will never say it was a mistake to have moved to LA. I don't hate LA. But four months later, I still cannot tell you why I left. I do know that I have not spent one moment wishing I hadn't moved. And I can give you plenty of reasons why I'm glad I'm here now.
Seasons.
Everyone coming to my house for Thanksgiving.
Neighborhoods.
Trees.
Theaters.
Friends.
Smaller Ponds.
