Revelations

EEEK! 

Looks like a few days since my last post.  Things have been getting crazy busy, is all.  I love to post, and wish wish wish the internet at work did not block blogspot :(  Becasue I have SOOOOOO much downtime most days at work.  Ah well.  I used alot of that downtime this week to type up some of my longhand vignettes that I wrote before I got nettie, or in places where pulling out a nettie is inappropriate (like the SATs) but somehow writing with a pen on paper is a-okay.

I am fast approaching tech week for my senior drama showcase, which is not senior citizens, but teenagers.  It is.... it's yikes right now. I will try and keep you posted, but to be honest I am a little too freaked out to talk about it.  They don't come to rehearsal, they show up unprepared... IDK guys... it will be a wing and a prayer kind of event, I'm thinking.  And I wonder if I, as the instuctor, did something wrong, somehow set u an environment where this sort of behavior would be tolerated... I dunno. 

Then, after that I got two more in June!  Fun Fun.

A couple of things happened in rapid succession this weekend that have thrown my POV into disarray.  First, I saw the BHS musical and felt.... numb?  I was ridiculously proud of some students that I've taught or worked with before--some I've known since they were ten!!   S=I was crazy proud of some student I don't even know, just because they were great and working their little butts off out there... but mostly?  Shrugs.  Meh.  I felt detatched and disinterested and dead inside.  I kept trying to, like, FEEL some way or the other about it all.  I tried to say to myself: Oh, this would have been WAYYYY better if you'd been involved! But this is baloney and I recognized the bullshit immediately.  So then I tried to tell myself that this dead feeling will go away once I have my own drama club and what not.... Nah.  Because I am the sole director of these thursday night classes and I feel pretty MEH about all that too. 

And I guess I just looked at my life and wondered what the fuck I'm supposed to do with this career built in and on the arts and theatre, when I can't find it in me to be a passionate advocate for them. 

So.

I sorta thought: Welp, I've been leaning toward writing lately, so maybe this is a SIGN!  Maybe I really need to leave the theatre behind, leave teaching behind for a while, and really really go for it; take the leap!

K.

So this morning Aaron and I had some fun sex, but then I had to rush off to starline to teach this crucial saturday rehearsal as we gear up for tech week (4 of the 7 girls bothered to show...).  When I got home Aaron says:  "I wrote while you were gone."
This is always exciting, because AAron is an incredibly gifted writer, but doesn't write that often for a whole selw of reasons.  So, with excitement, I sit down at the computer and begin to read.

And.

I kid you not, this stuff is so goddamn beautiful it moved me to tears.  And I am weeping at the beauty, and I'll admit it, I'm weeping a little because in like two hours, three tops, the man sits down and basically proves what a real writer is, and I relaize that he has more talent and SKILL in his little finger than I do in my entire being and it, well, that's like a sucker punch that knocks the wind out of you.

It is seriously amazing, this small piece he wrote.  I wonder if he'll let me share it with you.  It is not CF related, but rather a piece of creative fiction in its own time and space.  I loved it.  It was powerful and breathtaking and deep and visceral and mesmerizing.

So, after talking with him about it and assuring him how great it is (I really felt like there were no words that would meet the occasion.  I felt like anything I could say in praise would pale in comparison. Feel lame beside it, you know??), I tell him I just need to rest for a bit, and I climb up into my loft and fret.  And fall asleep, depressed and disillusioned.  Because, now, it seems, I've been reminded that no, I am not actually a writer at all.  I'm a hobbyist.  I enjoy pretending and spinning yarns, but I am no true author.

So I pretty much had a depression nap.  I think, seriously, that the only reason I didn't just sleep the rest of the day and night away was becasue I had to babysit. 

So I woke up, we had some mexican for lunch (Aaron: "Oh, I always enjoy eating a little mexican"  Me: "yummmm!!  Let's find one and bring her home!!!), and went to babysit.

I don't feel depressed anymore; I mean really?  I have learned that I really oughtn't compare myself to Aaron in any arena because he can best me at everything.  EVERYTHING.  He isn't doing it to be a dick or anything, he's just a phenomenal individual with talent just bursting out of him in every direction.  I shouldn't take it so hard.  I am ridiculously lucky to be married to such an incredible, incomparable individual.

But.  Now what, about the future career?  A toughie.  Tuffy?  Whatever.  You get what I'm saying.

I guess I will do my best to keep an open mind and an open heart and keep asking the universe to send me some clear signals, light some signs for me, point me to where my future will be.

This is the deal though:  I'm going to stop trying to decide it.  To make myself fit into a category.  Force a path before it is fully revealed to me.  I'm going to grip my divining rod and have a little faith that it will point me to the good stuff. 

So, no labels, for now, no answers just yet.  No solid plans, no expectations....just....a wing and a prayer?  Maybe not even the wing.  I'm in freefall, and we'll have to see where I land, and if I survive the fall.

Deep Breath...