In one of those ideal worlds-

which this isn't, obviously,

people would be able to say, "I want to act, even if it makes me poor!" and jump into it.

People would miraculously be able to do exactly what they want, while juggling family and financial commitments. People wouldn't have nervous breakdowns or go home to abuse of any sort.

We wouldn't constantly have to rush around, in a desperate attempt to find rest.

It's been a surprisingly, no, shockingly empty sort of week. Or weekend, whatever you want to call it. To a large extent, I'm, I don't know what it is- numb, empty, tired, sad. It's sort of all mixed up. I missed a lot of school this week, so I had a heightened awareness of the emptiness I was left with at home.

And then Friday came about, with a renewed sort of energy and that was nice. Cooking at home and having friends over is always nice.

I didn't mind my Saturday either, and it was funny how, as the timings changed, and things moved up, I found myself trying to cram in more things. I'm so used to hustling about that I've forgotten how to breathe. It wasn't until I'd gotten on the bus and the train home that I realized just how tired I was, that I noticed how my legs ached and how much I just really wanted to sit down.

I'm taken aback at this weekend because, most often, it's just this messy rush of choosing people to spend time with, choosing the right time to go out, struggling to find a fraction of a second where I can just stop and slump against a wall. I don't have that this weekend. And you'd think that'd make it easier except-

Well, in one of those ideal worlds, which this obviously isn't,

schedules aren't a problem, and things always fall into place.

But as I've cosied up in my empty apartment, with the telly on (because it makes it sound like the family's around) and surrounded by fresh laundry that I'm working my way through, I've lent thought to the week ahead. Which to be honest, isn't just going to be a week.

Love Song, the musical, goes up in exactly twenty days.

We have just over a fortnight until Tech week.

After the 21st, I have a Kuttiyatam-intensive week that will follow, ending off with three performances in a single day.

Post Modular Lab comes right after that.

And then a week of all the other classes and their assessments that we'll work on.

My stomach has gone back to that oh-so-familiar clench that lurches me into wanting to grab handfuls of free time whenever I can. But I breathe and notice how I woke up with my head heavy and my body aching. Then I breathe again and think, well, this is my last weekend isn't it? It's the last weekend where I will not be rushing around anywhere. Where I will feel like my head's awfully heavy but that it's okay to go into my room for a nap. Where I will get to sit on my couch, typing away at Maxine and realize, I don't have the lights on but it's bright as day.

Because it is, y'know, bright as day.

And there's a load in the dryer, filling the laundry room with the smell of clean, fresh clothes, and I've got a few hours left to myself.

Even though it's not, y'know, one of those ideal worlds.

This'll do, I believe, this'll do.