November.

I've been having a hard time with this autumn.

It's nothing new for me to hate autumn, but this one has been harder than usual.

For 11 of the last 13 years, I've had a rather large project to distract me from the approaching cold/darkness.

For the last 14 years, November has been dedicated to either watching or helping with a musical.

This year, instead of being out costume shopping or in pit orchestra rehearsal, or jealously watching people do choreography, I'm sitting at home marking just how many minutes earlier the sun went down tonight than last night.

When I went off to college, I was full of ideas of working in a theater - getting to do the things I loved all the time, over and over.

Needless to say, it didn't work out that way. I've tried hard to find other goals, but come November, it's hard not to look back and wonder what might have been.

Yes, a part of me is listing a dozen different things I could try doing for next year. And maybe I will. But tonight I need to feel sad and nostalgic and jealous.

Tonight, somewhere in another time zone, a whole new group of kids are getting ready to put on a musical with the woman who taught me to loved the stage. And I couldn't be more happy for them, or more jealous of them. Or wish more that I were in the audience - or better yet, the pit, or the costume room.