I lasted about a day before I wanted to scream again in LA. It is pointless. But I don’t have a job yet. The things I have applied for are serious jobs—the kind where they interview lots of people and makes decisions—stuff that takes a while and is a longshot anyway. But Friday night Pastor Dan and Cindy are coming to dinner. Saturday morning I start packing. I bet I won’t even wash some of the things I use, but rather will throw them right out. I will place an ad next week to sell my furniture (I will save the bed for last). And I will leave. But I don’t know where I am going. I wish I could spend a few months on the mountain—work a mindless job and rest. I have no help anymore when it comes to getting the major stuff done so it is me and me against the world. It is scary. But the fact is, it is scarier to continue on as I am.

I have to go back to work tomorrow. I always feel like I am in prison there. But I have asked for the resignation form. I am resigning. I can’t stand it—can’t do this any longer. If anything else didn’t show me, the fact that I become a different person (a NICE person) when I leave here is enough evidence for me.

It is 8 p.m. I am headed to bed. I guess I have really quit ballet—two weeks of missing it—but what is the point. I want to learn my Shachah stuff and prepare for the next seminar.

I need a job so I can start to have a life again.