It is 5pm and I am sitting in the RedE sipping an Americano. The confused depression that I have felt since returning is finally fading and I'm picking up my routine again- yoga, friends, dog walks, movies with Luke. The routine helps ground me in this city and in this body. This is helpful because my mind can't seem to grasp the fact that it is over. And not like, "Oh my god, I just can't believe it's over!!" No, I'm happy to have the show behind me. What I mean is I can't believe that project is over. I was running, sprinting, leaping... off the cliff... and now I've landed, on the other side, here in Portland again, where normal life is waiting for me. What just happened? Was it worth it? Sure. But will it change much? Not sure. And what do I want to change? That question is haunting me. I want to be more successful but what the hell does that mean? What does success look like? No, really. If I knew what I was after it would be a lot easier to capture it.

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