Hey Reader! When I was younger and far more pretentious, I believed that time alone in a wooded cabin was all I’d need to blossom into the artist I was fated to become. In those days, I did a lot of theater and sports, and I formed superstitions around both. After all, I was convinced what I ate, wore and did affected my performance. So I kept careful watch over my actions and blamed mistakes on missing some cue or another. Each time, I redoubled my faith in empty ritual. And stayed stuck....