When I first moved to New York City in pursuit of artistic aspirations, being a “starving actor” was sort of a romantic idea. There can be a sense of camaraderie between fellow struggling artists. It can be fun to playfully bemoan being too broke to go out to dinner when you’re a super hip wannabe actor in a glamorous city. PBR is trendy and everyone partakes in dollar pizza on the regular. But what’s cute when you’re 22 is less cute (or not cute at all) when you’re 26. Lessons need to be learned. At what point has being a “starving actor” jumped the shark?