Where Is The Life That Late I Led?

I like a quiet life - know what I mean? Quiet. I like it when the most important decision of my day is trying to decide if I HAD an important decision in my day.

A good day for me is when I don't feel I NEED to do anything. (Yeah,yeah, those days don't come along very often - I don't remember the last one - but those are good days.)

So these are my goals - good day goals. Boring days. ZZZzzzzzzzzz ... Happy happy.

So ... If these are my goals, why do I seem to go out of my way to get involved in STUFF? Not just stuff, but one stuff after another?

Do you do that? Please tell me you do that.

I'm teaching a series of acting classes. Starting tonight. Last fall this sounded like a good idea, But now it's TONIGHT. These people actually expect me to show up.

Yesterday evening I met with a friend who wants to direct a play at a theatre I know well. We met and spent a quite enjoyable time discussing the approach he should take. On the other hand, before I left the house I had to put on shoes! Nobody warned me that friends could cause such hardships.

I am presently co-authoring a play with a very talented creative writer. This woman constantly challenges me with her contributions. She also expects - I don't know why - every few months she expects me to contribute my own sentence or two. I tell ya, the pressure is getting to me.

And then there's this blog. Just because it's here, does that mean it's anticipated that I'm actually going to write something in it? Birdie was right. This deathless prose business ain't easy.

And then there's the play I'm writing because I entered it in a contest and it never occured to me at the time that if it won something, somebody might actually want to read it. (I can't remember. When you are in the middle of a panic attack, is it short breaths or deep breaths? Why is everything turning grey?)

Tomorrow evening I'm applying to direct "Li'l Abner" next season at a theatre that's not near my house. Why don't I just beat myself with a stick and get it over with?

And finally. Last night my agent emailed me, informing me that one of my plays is going to be produced at a theatre in Glasgow Scotland. How rude these people are - how inconsiderate! Don't they know what a long drive that's gonna be from my house?!

So ... I have a solution. I'm gonna move. I'm gonna change my name and move in the middle of the night to a town that nobody in their right mind would ever want to even pass through in the middle of the day. Omaha Nebraska sounds about right. Yeah. I remember a few years ago the Russians confessed that when their missile program was at its best, that maybe maybe on a good day maybe maybe they could have hit Nebraska, and everybody here went "whew," because it was, after all, Nebraska.

I'll let ya know where I land. I mean, it's YOU. It's no fun at all in being shallow and petty and whining if you're not there to share it.

JB

And how was your day?