I Love the Smell of Libraries.

I have so many books on my bookcase that I have never read.

Piles.

Stacks.

Shelves.

Unread. Unabsorbed. Unloved. Unopened [since the 1st time I skimmed it pre-purchase].

Books. Knowledge. Stories. Opinions. That I've never had the time taken the time to read.

I consider myself fairly literate. Excelling at English throughout high school. Pursuing & attaining a degree in something [theatre/greek classics] that involved constant reading & viewing of the written word performed. Having a minor major meltdown post-college that involved me consuming copious amounts of books & plays I'd never read and even writing up mini-essays [for myself] as I felt my mind melting so quickly after the end of college, class & required contemplation.

The melt-down came to end [sort of] & with it so did the overwhelming need for me to read. I wish it hadn't. I now put 'READ' on my daily to-do lists. It is often left alone, uncrossed, waiting to be added to tomorrow's list.

When I begin a book & don't finish it I have moments where I think about the characters paused in the passage where I left them. Unable to move forward. Unable to go back. Left wondering why I would leave them. What they had done wrong. Would they ever get to finish the story they were meant to tell?

Guilt-Ridden.

I am Ridden with Guilt. For fictional characters. For facts. For narratives. For books.

I am fairly literate. But I am not. A favorite activity of mine is wandering into bookstores. I walk the tables. NEW IN PAPERBACK. CLASSICS. MYSTERY. SUMMER MUST READS. ETC. I then stop & count the number of books I've read. If I'm with another person it becomes both a competition [because everything is] & a wonderful conversation starter [try it on a first or second date - you'll learn WONDERS about the person...]. I did this recently & found myself lacking. I would be the person on the date being judged for my lack of literacy. I was sad.

The Pee Wee Scouts would have been disappointed in me.

...

I had a hard time learning to read when I was a kid. I don't think I even liked it. But in 2nd Grade Mr. Anderson [my favorite teacher of all time] introduced me to THE PEE WEE SCOUTS. I read one and that was it. I read them all before 2nd grade was through. And from there I never stopped. Reading series after series, completing list after list of recommended reading. Graduating 5th grade with a 12th grade reading level. I had become an official reader. A bibliophile.

...

Unbent binding.  Crisp cut pages. New book smell on novels years old.

They wait patiently. The stories. The thoughts. The characters. The noted moments. More patiently than I with myself. Constantly pushing to be better. To be more literate because "it'll help my work". I think I'm realizing it's the wrong approach. To put that pressure on passion. On that which at such a young age, changed my life. I've ruined it by making it work.

I've begun to think that about a lot of things I've been doing lately. Trying to turn what I loved to do into what I'm paid to do.

It's taken me a beat to realize it but I'm finding if you're not careful it turns what you love to do into another thing on the to do list. That won't get done. That gets moved to tomorrow.

Unread. Unabsorbed. Unloved. Unopened.

That is not what I want my life to be.

Today. I read. For fun.

Sleepless Dreams are Anything but Figurative

I had a very important audition last weekend.

One I've been waiting for for years (literally, I submitted for it in 2008).

Yet, the process of the audition made me less inclined to be a part of the project I so desperately desired.

Sometimes, the things you think will be are not what you thought. And that is good.

My life is changing yet staying momentarily the same. Stuck in the same pattern of events through at least July. I have promised myself not to commit to anything after July in order to create a moment for me. My mind. And to see. To see a lot of things both then, in the future & in me. 

There are a 1000 [figurative] things I want to do with my life. And what I am slowly discovering being slapped in the face with, is that doing one or two of the things I want may not allow me to do the 998 other [figurative] things I want to do before I don't have a life with which to do anything. 

At what point do you give up one dream to fulfill another. 

At what point does working so hard for one dream turn it into a waking nightmare. 

That is. When I get the chance to sleep long enough to dream. 

I'm not giving up. I'll never give up. On my dreams. But as I grow into my ripe age of 24.5, my dreams seem to be changing. Maturing? And really, the ultimate goal of life, my life, is to laugh. To be happy. To be stressed in a way that drives me. To try new things everyday. To make new friends and keep old ones close. To read. Everything. To learn as much as I can. To share. To feel [be] healthy. To love. To be able to stand in funny bendy poses unwavering. To make a big family. To take care of lost dogs. To take pictures. To dance. To love waking up in the morning even when it's too early. To sing. To not worry I'm missing out on one thing because I'm doing another.

To do 1000 [figurative] things.  

And the way my life is set up right now. It is all figurative. Not only my distant future but what I would like to do today. Tomorrow. This weekend. 

And I am tired of living a figurative life. I want a literal life. 

And that's what I'll have.

...

By the end of July. 

...Possibly early August. 

I [can] dream. Anyway.

Getting in the Ring with Life

Beginning work on a new show. Well an Olde Show. With an 'e'.

King Lear. With the Antaeus Theatre Company.

An opportunity sent across my desk via email. A company once recommended to me. A noteworthy director. So, an Assistant Director I became. Again.

Unpaid.

Again.

40 hours a week.

Again.

A year ago I was doing the same. 40 hours of work. 40 hours of rehearsal.

A year ago I was loving it. Appreciating it.

This year is harder.

My body is more tired.
My mind is more tired.
My emotions are running rampant.

Never truly convinced this is all worth it.

Appreciating the opportunity but not sure how the unquantifiable learning experience will benefit a still yet unquantifiable career.

What if doing everything it takes to do what I want causes me to hate everything about the thing I've always wanted to do.

I feel myself drifting that direction.

Not drifting.

Being bullied toward it.

Into a corner.

By life.

Bullied by life. How do you take on that bully.

Stand up? Or just walk away.

I've always been one to punch a bully in the face.

Not sure life would like it.

Life would probably punch back.

Good thing I know how to Parry.

Next up. A Right Hook.