New York. Or Berlin. Or Chicago. Or Copenhagen.

Today I woke up at 8:10am, I had to leave my apartment by 8:20am. I meant to get up with enough time to get coffee and breakfast but I didn’t fall asleep until 2am last night. I felt so tired that opening my eyes took energy from me. Besides, my partner was asleep in our bed and they did not have to

wake up for class for another hour. I could taste jealousy in my mouth. So ten minutes to get ready it was! I threw on shorts and a hoodie, brushed my teeth, and took my meds. The only breakfast option I had time for was a 16 day expired GoGurt. I took it from the box and threw the rest of them out as I ate it. When I got to the front door, my roommate's cat nuzzled against my knee. I simply could not leave without picking him up and kissing his face goodbye. He meowed appreciatively as if he knew the time I spent with him made me two minutes late. Finally, I made it out of the door, into the elevated, and then outside. It was freezing, too cold for shorts. 70 degrees yesterday, 30 today. Totally normal for late March in New Jersey. I rounded the corner to the parking deck and got in my car. I listened to an audiobook of “My year of rest and relaxation” on my drive to class. I parked right outside the building in a spot reserved for teachers, parking anywhere else would’ve made me too late to turn the other cheek to. I get to movement class and slip into my traditional 1670 Baroque French Duke costume. As part of my BFA training, my class spends a few months at a time researching characters from different eras to eventually spend two hours as them in a full immersive queen’s court. I’m currently playing Phillipe DeBourbon, Duc D'Orleans. After class I finally go to get my coffee then head home. My roommate and I discuss our movement character, she’s playing my brother. I then take a quick nap before my next class. When I wake up, I’m once again running late. I changed my shorts into sweatpants, though it’s surely warm enough for shorts now. I get a cold piece of chicken from the fridge and head to class. My class is with the head of our program. He is preparing us for our final showcase. Three hours talking just about the future. He says I’ll work. That I’m funny and charming and marketable. It feels strange to thank someone for saying nice things when they said them like they were diagnosing me with a terminal illness. I feel good about it though. When I finish class I sit in the building’s lobby to do homework. I think about my life today as opposed to what it will be in ten years. That is my homework.

On a random day in March of 2036 I will wake up at 7:30am on the dot totally naturally. I went to bed at 10:30pm last night, as I always do, so I feel very rested. I go to the kitchen to make breakfast for my partner and I before work. They are still asleep, along with our two cats and golden retriever who are all curled up in our king sized bed. We live in New York. Or Berlin. Or Chicago. Or Copenhagen. Take your pick, I’m happy in all of them. As I cook our omelets, I fill our dog’s bowl, our cats’ bowls, and feed our fish tank. I bring our breakfast into bed and we eat it and talk about what we dreamt about. They get out of bed before me to do the dishes and walk the dog. I shower and get dressed for work, jeans and a men’s plaid button up. When they get back they give me a coffee they picked up on their walk. I kiss them good-bye and head to work. I’m directing my third professional regional play. My last one toured for a year and the reviews were great. This play is my first time directing a new work. It’s an all female cast. We talk about the female experience and the stories we want to tell. We block the most complicated scene in the play and it looks amazing. On my lunch break I go to the local Drama bookshop/cafe to get a sandwich and read. I’m reading one wonderful and progressive piece after another. The second half of rehearsal is just as great as the first. I let everyone out early and I get drinks with the cast. Then I hail a cab and head down town to the jazz club my partner owns to see them perform. The best part is I get a free dinner. After their set they sit and eat with me. I’m happy. I’m making money doing art and I have love. That’s all I ever desired. I think back to being 20 in New Brunswick and simply have one thought; I really really made it.