I have been jolted out of my sarcastic, hateful reality. You may not know, but my passion in life is clowning, and last night, one of my old clowning instructors passed away. He wasn't out of his 20's, and was murdered in a hit and run accident. This existence that I've forced myself in to is wrong-- so incredibly wrong. There was once a drive and a passion in my life to clown, a fire that was sparked by this man. Even as I think about it, it's all I want to do... so where am I? I'm in some big city in the US, playing pretty little housewife, making no art, making no impact, and making NO ONE laugh. I used to say, "What would I be doing if not helping someone?" This is not helping. What I'm doing here is not aiding anyone. I'm using a man who adores me for money. Granted, that money is going to pay for an apartment so that I can have a roof over my head while I do my training... I guess we all have to make sacrifices. But when I heard that phrase when I was younger, "sacrifice" meant something physical, like eating 15 cent ramen for dinner 3 nights a week. I did not expect that my sacrifice would be an ethical one: how could I have known that in order to be and do what I love, I would have to spend some time being something I despise to the core. Now, my friends, I must go wipe these tears off my face, reapply my face, and strap on some heels. It's like an abusive marriage-- I hate it so much, but I can't leave it until it's over.