Oh, No

Here's what you don't want:

You wake up at 9, 9:25, 10:13, 10:36. You shower, inspect your pores, fumble for your glasses. You walk into the living room and discover someone else's chinese food, empty bottles, red wine spilled on the futon, detritus. You pick up some trash, dispose of it into an overflowing bin, make yourself some eggs. You gather the camera/backpack/sweater left in your living room and walk sluggishly to auditions, where you are expected to evaluate a slew of college actors. The audition space is a small room, and surprise surprise, the only person when you arrive is a hyperactive boy who wants to shout in your ear as you sadly sip your coffee. It's burnt. The other directors walk in, throw thsemlves down, roll some cigarettes, open some books, discuss vegetarian cuisine, peking duck. The actors roll in, some accurate, some overdramatic. You pass notes with your friend and try some cost benefit analysis. You come home, into a dark room, remove nail polish, lie down, feel your head spinning, your fingers down to the quick. You put on some music.

That's what you don't want. But it happens anyway. Time to recuperate for another go around.