Omigod. I’m such a dork. I was actually excited to write here again today. I was so excited that I almost did it last night and then convinced my inner voice that I needed to pace myself. I should be writing in my journal Julia Cameron-style, but this is so much faster. So much faster. I can actually type almost as fast as I think which makes for truly fascinating stream-of-consciousness writing. Or not. That’s an inner critic for you.
The interruptions are killer. Leo got up at 4:00 AM today and went back to sleep at 5:15 AM. I thought about just writing then, which would have been a good time, free of interruptions. But then reason got the better of me, and I thought that I should probably sleep more so that I can function and not turn into ugly monster beast mom, which is exactly what happens when I don’t get enough sleep. I’ve already been interrupted to get a craft project going, feed Leo, put Leo to sleep, attend to whatever request Scarlett is making this minute. It’s par for the course, of course. This is why I should have stayed up at 5:00 AM.
I was totally surprised to get wonderful encouragement and feedback from friends who had subscribed or followed my performance updates. I was mostly surprised that someone was actually reading this, but it was really nice to know that other people have gone through this and are happier for it.
I can’t stop eating cookies. They’re kind of a breakfast food, right? Ha. I am so funny to myself.
I go through these moments of panic – the kind of panic after a show closes and you wonder if you’ll ever work again – where I’m totally terrified that I’ll never perform again. But then I think, “Well, since my ego let go of the idea of being a professional, I can actually do anything I want to. And nothing I don’t want to.” Maybe it’s more freedom. Maybe it will actually be fun again. That would be nice. I’d love it to be fun again.
Writing is fun. It’s mostly what I think about. They say your passion is something you’d do for free. I write for free. Obviously. I have this and a blog. And I love them, and it’s fun. What about helping people? I mean, I help people for free all the time, but isn’t that more like a fundamental human impulse? Are there people who don’t help other people? It’s something I wonder about.
My favorite job ever was a temp job in Rochester with a job placement agency. My boss was amazing and gave me the mantra “we’re not saving lives here” as a means of getting everyone to relax. (Ironically, we were saving lives in a way. Also, I can’t say this to my sister the doctor who literally saves lives.) I loved helping people get jobs. They were so happy. It was amazing. And I love connecting people in my life with other people in my life to get work or come together on a project. Years later, I’m still happy about them.
I guess the question is “How do I make all of this work together?” Yep.1