I have
nineteen days to find a
summer job. And not just any summer job; a job that will make me enough money to eat next year when I move to
Toronto. This is no small feat! Speaking of
eating, I also have ten days to become a scraggly
waif for a play I'm performing in. I love the play (
Spring Awakening) and I love the
character, but if only she weren't a
starving whore...
From this experience, I've realized that I hate being hungry. It's against every survival instinct known to man (and woman) to willingly progress from a happy, healthy body to an weak, unhappy one when there is nothing psychologically wrong with me. It's frustrating, really. Next week people wil be whispering about me being anorexic or something. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to go stare at some breakfast. If I'm lucky it'll get scared and run away before I eat it.