I haven’t decided which side of the line I am on right now. Am I thriving here or am I simply surviving? Some days pass by quickly and I make it to yoga and I teach my classes and I even write a few damn good sentences. I tuck myself in at the end of the day feeling pretty positive about my choice to come here. Feeling pretty positive about my self sufficiency and general overall self-worth. Then I am not quite sure what happens in those bewitching hours of sleep. I wake the next morning bleary eyed and panic-stricken convinced that I am in far over my head and that even worse those sentences that were good yesterday – they are terrible today and there are none coming to make me feel better. I bite my nails and stare at the computer screen. I pour myself a glass of whiskey and then leave the apartment. What is it? Where does my mind change over night? I suppose it is no different from living life in any other fashion. Some days are good and some days are bad. But in my case, right now, without the sound proofing of friends and family or familiarity I am left with only one voice – my voice. My isolation serves as an incubator for both self-doubt and self aggrandizement. I am constantly either the greatest or worst writer in the world or just human being in fact. But I suppose this all makes sense. Always in superlatives. Isn’t that right?