Good night, Grand Aspirations. (Good morning, Reality.)

As if the epic amounts of snow that seeped into my ballet flats on my way to work this morning (I, genius that I am, forgot my winter boots at the office last night...and, by winter boots, I mean Uggs, which anyone who has ever stepped in a cold slush puddle whilst wearing them knows aren't really winter boots), I was reminded of the harsh reality of my life this morning when the first courier into our office was wearing an ACTRA Toronto toque. We had a chit chat that basically amounted to how I don't have a reel, an agent, or, it would seem, a hope.

I am consoling myself with the fact that his toque said ACTRA and not AEA because I don't really want to do film, commercials, or television that badly anyway. He did, though, take care to remind me that it's almost impossible to make a living in the theatre. He was a nice enough guy, it's the facts themselves that are distressing...

A very wise and experienced man, one of my favourite theatre critics/professors, once told me that, while it is very difficult to make a living in the theatre, it is quite possible to make a life in the theatre. So which would you rather have? A life or a living?