If you don't like the weather in Atlanta, wait five minutes.

Where did all that earned hope and self-esteem I have go? I swear to you, it was just here, like, a minute ago.

Writing as though no one's reading.

Staying at home with my mom, there is no Internet, so I'm actually trying to write something without the immediate gratification of having it read. I'm sure I'll eventually upload some stuff here - when I have my own home again. But, in the meantime, it's nice to write stuff and have it marinate in my head, solely belonging to me.

I heart Sami.

Is it horrible that I want to go to the Rite Aid Health and Beauty Expo at Cobb Galleria next week ONLY because Alison Sweeney from DAYS OF OUR LIVES is supposed to be there?

The opening credits.

Juxtaposition.

So, because AMBER NASH SHOW is playing really well to XPT's sold-out crowds and the parking lot pieces in XPT AUTO SHOW are fantastic and bring a level of fun and enthusiasm to the audience and to the puppeteers performing them before the show even starts, I've been feeling good about life and mostly satisfied with the work I've done. (My puppeteers and performers, though, are all brilliant and supportive, and I will love them forever for the gift that they have given me this week.)

As something bad must happen to accompany all the good, just to remind me that there are moments when I can feel like a complete failure, I'm being kicked out of my apartment for being packrat messy and for not reporting a problem with mold in the apartment. They had to rip out a wall of my bedroom, and now they've given me seven days to vacate the place.

So, because I'm an adult now, I have a plan. I'm running home to live with my mom for a couple weeks and finding a storage facility to put my stuff. Then, in the next couple of weeks, I'm moving into an apartment with my friend James. (Start praying for him now.)

I'm going to be OK. I'm just freaked the fuck out right now.

I want to get past the worry and the panic and all the bullshit and just deal with the problem, but that's the thing with depression. It causes you to not be able to bring yourself to move, clean, take out the garbage, do the dishes, stay inside the apartment. Depression causes me to not like myself enough to take care of myself, to instead escape into the things in my life that are working, escaping the responsibilities of life that aren't as fun, paying bills, cleaning the apartment, etc.

I'm crazy. I have mental illness. I've got to fix some things. I've been trying to fix them for 30 years, but when are they going to be fixed?

This is a journey. I'm going to try not to worry about it. I'm going to instead fix it.

I have to, eventually. I don't have a choice.

OPENING NIGHT.

Tonight, the show was attended, I swear, by 40 people I knew. It was really, really cool.

Thanks to everyone who turned out.

PREVIEW NIGHT.

This has been the most amazing experience. It was great to see and experience not just THE AMBER NASH SHOW, but several of the pieces that I wrote for the parking lot come alive.

People laughed in all the right places.

And, hilariously, this also happened.

Thank you, Matt. I didn't know it was possible for my night to be any better, but you just made my night better.

And, in college, I liked you, too.

Oh wait, my night just got even better.

A thank-you note.

While AMBER NASH SHOW's been in development (all 10 minutes of it), I've not been blogging about the progress, the difficulties, the hangups, the problems and the thrills of the process I've learned about trying to stage something and what I've learned about my own control-freak tendencies and inability to relax all these weeks. I didn't want to sound pessimistic, particularly when I knew that the process, though it's probably interesting to hear about, matters little in comparison to what the final product looks like.

For the record, I'm starting to get really, really excited about what we're doing for XPT this year. I'm very happy to be part of XPT, for it's through this blog that I suppose this accomplishment started. If I'd not attended that ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY puppet show ages ago and blogged about it with Brad Fairchild, then I wouldn't have met the wonderful Sydney Ellis and become familiar with XPT.

I've wanted to be part of XPT since I saw that show in 2005. I saw the show then, found it amazing and thoroughly entertaining and wanted more than anything to one day bring something to the stage. I hope that I bring a bit of fun to all the people who entertained me back then, some of whom I now know and expect to be in attendance.

More than anyone, I think I want to entertain the hell out of Sydney Ellis, who actually is involved in my production. She wrote the AMBER NASH SHOW theme song with her father, and she performed it. And that song - and the vote of confidence in my writing that Syd always has given me - may be the best thing that this blog has ever brought me. (Thank you, Syd. Love to you and Abby.)

I stopped blogging regularly a couple years ago. It faltered a bit when I signed up for writing classes at the Margaret Mitchell House so that I could focus my efforts there. Thanks to the people who helped me there. (Thank you, Sarah Shope, Frank Ciccone, Lynda Hawkins, Betsy Crosby, Monica Cox, Kat West and the absolutely wonderful Marianne Lacey.)

When I started taking improv comedy classes at Dad's Garage about 18 months after that, the blog slowed even more. But what I was learning about acting and about characters and about how to tell stories was spectacular. And, more than that, the people that I met through improv have been fantastic and supportive. (Thanks to people like Tom Rittenhouse, Eve Krueger, Josh Wilcox, Ed Morgan, Matthew Grove, Matt Myers, La Schaffer, Z Gillispie, Chris Rittelmeyer, Jenny Clark, Rueben Medina, Heather Starkel, Nick Tecosky, Casey Childers, Berny Clark, the Write Club, the wonderful Spencer Stephens, George Faughnan, Linnea Frye, Matt Stanton, Dan Triandiflou, Mary Kraft, Steve Platinum, Matt Horgan and Amber Nash, of course.)

And then, through my improv home at JaCKPie, what I've learned about myself - in addition to learning more about how I want to approach stories, make theater and the kind of improvisor that I want to be - has been life-changing. Though I'm still wary about God, I'd say JaCKPie is the closest thing to a godsend I've ever received in my life. (Heartfelt thanks to Jim Karwisch. Thank you, everyone at JaCKPie.)

Even the people in my new office have been incredibly encouraging through this wacky process. (Thank you to Brit Tennant, Lisa Federico, Armando Tirado, Brandon McCarty, Jay Alexander and Phil Koehler.)

Larry Corse, a long time ago, told me that I had the talent to be a very good writer, and he said he'd do whatever possible to nurture and encourage me. And he has. Over and over. (Thank you, Larry.)

Thanks to the artists who've helped my puppet show become what it is. (Again, thanks to Amber Nash. I hope that you like what we've done. Thanks to Mauree Culberson, one of my best friends. Thanks to Jillian Fratkin, Wes Parham and Emily Tsuboi. You all impress me with your dedication and commitment to the project. Thanks to Jeremiah Prescott. Thanks to Michael Haverty for the chance. Thanks to Amy Rush and Raymond Carr for the support.)

If this week progresses the way I expect it will, I think I'm going to be crying happpy tears a lot and laughing a lot.

I keep thinking of how I should thank everybody, but I honestly have no idea how to do that. I feel hokey, like I'm giving an Oscar speech in my head at all times. (Thank you, Liz Perry, Dena Waggoner Beck, Jessika Coon, Shalewa Sharpe, Vickye Zarbrook, Bonnie Davis, Steven Igarashi - yeah, I said it - and C.J. Spraggins. Thank you, Solenn Pigree. Thank you, Carrie Gibson. Thank you, Marley Angel. Thank you, Eric Black. Thank you, Jennifer Resendez. Thank you, Kate George. Thank you, T. Kyle King. Thank you, Doug Gillett. Thanks to the Phi Kappa Literary Society. Thank you, Paul McCurdy. Thank you, Kurt Summers. Thank you, Chris Brandon. Thank you, intentionally unnamed ex-boyfriends of note.)

Everyday, I think of new people who taught me aspects of all the stuff I needed to learn to get here.

If this were a book, I would write some kind of personal dedication. But, though I feel like thanking people for the puppet show, I really want to thank people for how blessed I feel right now, which is harder to do.

Luckily, I do know which dedication I would consider the most important.

Thank you, Jon Lupo, for supporting me and holding me more accountable than anyone ever has. Thank you for teaching me how to return your kindness through a friendship that is the most precious, reliable, rewarding thing I carry with me everyday. Thank you for believing in me. You've played a role in my happiness. It makes me proud to think that I've done even a fraction of the same thing for you. I'm very proud of your accomplishments. I believe in you. Thank you for letting me play witness to your life. I'm so excited about what good things the future will bring for both of us. I think we're both still learning how to cultivate the good in our lives. And, as good as I feel right now, the fact that I know there's more joy to be found strikes me as the most remarkable thing.

Hope is hard-won. But I do have hope. It is here.