(fuck 'em, I'm going to get my tickets at the box office instead.)

Door number one: stay in the industry.
It is comfortable, I know my shit, I am (somehow) a rock star.
But, God damn, all these years.

Door number two: is it open yet?

Door number three: write.

Can I reach doors one and three at the same time?

What's behind door number two? The window is still foggy.

Searching.
Thinking.
Pondering.