Some time ago, after my 40th birthday and my father's death, I began weekly visits to Joan's office and started to pursue the goal that prompted my move to NYC in 1981: to be a Broadway star. It happened very gradually, going to acting classes, buying Backstage, circling the auditions I could go to if I wanted to, sending out my resume, going to auditions and finally accepting roles. It was a steady move in the right direction. Then I got my Equity Card and the auditions were less successful. And then the Condo. And the trips to Europe.

For whatever reason (and there are many I've given), I'm shifting my focus to a more stable means of earning a living. Hell, I've been shifting for at least two years now as an office temp. But being a temp, especially a 49 year old one, may give the impression of bohemian transiency. And let's face it, the only transiency I know is the journey between birth and death. Home, husband and a sense of security are important to me.

Lord knows, I gotta dance. But the connection I've made between earning a living and singing a song isn't producing the desired results. Maybe my prayers for performing and earning a living were interpreted as mutually exclusive.

It's kind of like Stella in the toilet. I feel like I'm going through too much angst for something that may not be ultimately worth it and has a simpler solution.

We'll see.