Strength Lies in Nights of Peaceful Slumbers

I had the scary thing. And it was ok. Not perfect. And I am agonizing over all the many ways in which it was not perfect. I have to move on and not think about it. I have to go Streisand all over that shit. Because you can only die once, right? Not true. You can die a million times a day, they might just not all kill you.

But overall, I think it was good. I'm trying to be objective and honest with myself, and as much as I'm obsessing, I think, overall, it was good. I was in the room for about seven minutes. It goes so quick. It's so much work for a minute that can never be perfect. I'm proud of myself but also mad at myself. But really, I was honest, I was prepared, and I did what I could, and that's all I can ever do, right?

I talked a lot to my friend who was talking about confidence. About going into the room and feeling like you earned the right to be there. That's difficult, and it's not permanent. But I did feel I earned my shot. And I took it.

AND NOW I CAN JUST BE ANXIOUS. Until Mr. Arnstein notices me!

Now I need a new project. What can I worry about now??????