Right after the last entry, my dad, for the bazillionth time, tried to reason with me about finding some other kind of work, guilting me into doing it because him and mom won't be around to depend on. I have to have that added to all the other stuff already swimming through my head many many times. I was at a point that I felt like all my dreams and desires didn't matter, that whatever I strive for never fully blossomed into success to make my parent's proud. If I do chose a profession, it's to please them. I went to my actor's group, feeling like a worthless slacker, feeling my soul being fed when doing a couple of scenes, and when I got home, another actress left a message on my phone commenting on my good work, and that she was very impressed. I'd walked in earlier, and one actor asked if I had anything going on, and I only uttered, "Diddley-squat, nothing, absolutely nothing", like I was at my wit's end.

I'm thinking of becoming a drama teacher. Maybe high school, maybe some workshops here and there, I don't know. It'll take away some stress out of my parent's lives and stop them from breathing dangerously down my neck and die in peace.

I look for love: Nothing.

I look for a career: Nothing.

I look for dignity & respect: Nothing.

I look for trust and loyalty: Nothing.

All diddley-squat!

I've made decisions with my heart and I ended up heart-broken. Whatever is considered conventional is what I'm encouraged to do, despite my inner child rebelling loudly against it.

I was even picturing myself, in my old drama class in Edmonton, giving my students some scenes and lecturing them, droning on about my glory days as they interrupt me with, "Is this going to be on the test?" So far, whenever I have de ja vu, the image is a vision of where I end up, and the other day, I had one of myself at home, an image I must have had over a year ago before I even seriously thought of shacking up with ma and pa again.

When my dad pleaded with me about my future, he wasn't yeling or trying to intimidate me this time; this was a softer approach, one my mom must've coached him on to get to me. Actually, he was the most sincere I've seen from him. I just hate the idea that in 5 years, I'll be too old to be chasing after my dream, but it seem that either way, I'll be looking back with regret and loss. The whole idea hurts my chest, like someone's sitting on it. I keep looking and waiting for signs that I should stay on my desired path, but upon moving back here, nothing stopped me from leaving. I'd thought of being a teacher when I was a teen-ager, but hated that idea after several years.