In three weeks today I will be finished the first year of my MFA. Until that day, I will be rehearsing every night and sleeping very little.

In fact, my work-life balance is so skewed, that in some of the more delerious moments of my tedium, I have seriously considered pursuing a few of the following self destructive diversions:

1. Recycling past dates (in the absence of any fresh romantic prospects) including the New York director who made Woody Allen look like a secure, emotionally mature, self actualized human being, and the party guy, who when I asked for a cigarette (to distract me from one of our less than enthralling conversations) offered me cocaine (in hindsight, probably much more useful!).

2. Taking up residence in my new living room (otherwise known as the bar at the bottom of my building), which as well as fueling the delusion that my apartment is suddenly six times bigger, is populated with a cast of colourful and extremely friendly bartenders, who I have come to think of fondly as annoying brothers. Except for the Irish owner, who is Irish, and by default sexy. Am tempted to make the economically rational dating decision of trying to ramp up a flirtation with him, but given he already gives me my drinks for free, this could be unwise. If things turned sour I could be down a local watering hole... and a living room.

3. Emailing ex-boyfriends... who live uptown.

I'm hoping the act of writing these things down will snap me back into some semblance of rationality. And following that, some semblance of a work ethic.

Yep, back to it.

See you May 16th.