So, I've just realised something about myself. Actually, I think I've always known, but I finally articulated out loud:
I'm a career woman. I'm determined and ambitious and going to succeed in my chosen profession of acting came hell or high water. When did this happen? When did I stop being a dreamy girl with her head in the clouds and her wedding all planned out. The only thing about any future nuptials I may have that I care about is I want my mom to make my dress and Charm City Cakes to make the cake.
Sure, I still get stupid over a cute person, but I am sabotaging myself deliberately and mostly unintentionally. I never expect to stay in any one place so I can't get attached because the relationship will have a due by date. My job will be beautiful and terrifying and amazing, but it's a gypsy's life. If I don't learn to take chances even with a deadline looming, it'll be another five years before I have a date, maybe longer.
I love my job, I really truly do. I'm not even sure I should call it a job, because it's my life. And when did my life become about one thing?
This isn't meant to be maudlin, but lieblings, just reflective. Huh.
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