Dianna Agron, but you can call me Charlie.

Couldn’t be farther from my sunny home. Unless I jumped the pond. The weather is grim, my heart is warm, I’m relishing this time I have. In my little hotel room I could write for days, holed up, channeling introverted beings like Bukowski. In the outside world, jumping around my current playground, I am giddy, I am learning, I am young. In character and in comparison to the talented company that surrounds me. I miss my home, I miss my friends, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t go back just yet. What a year, what a month. I am sitting in my little hotel room. Typing away. The sounds. The keys. Jon Brion, Dario Marianelli, Alexandre Desplat. You all are my friends.