Thinking Thinking
I went for another walk yesterday. There’s an intersection exactly 1½ miles from my house, so that it’s a nice three-mile walk altogether. It’s exercise, plus a chance to try and clear my head. My head seems to need a lot of clearing, lately.
Okay. So I have a lot on my mind. I’m not surprised; most of the time I’m neck-deep in rehearsals for one show or another, and I’ve been unoccupied with such pursuits for the last month now.
Yes, I’ve tried to stay busy writing, but that’s a fickle mistress if ever there was one. She’ll visit for an hour or so if I’m lucky, then take off for the rest of the night. How can a day be filled with nothing? The friend that lives closest to me works unusual hours, so I can’t hang out with him like I used to. I’ve read every book, watched every movie and played every game in my collection ad infinitum. So what do I do? I grab a water bottle and a cigar if I’ve got any, put on a pair of sneakers and go for a walk.
The usual concerns and thoughts have been milling around upstairs, vying for top dog status. Money (or lack of same), Tuxxer (Now Nocturne ‘til some other title comes along), the restlessness that’s accompanied my recent acting hiatus, the possible start of my voice-over career, and best of all: loneliness.
I miss having someone around to talk to. Not just whatever I want to talk about, but just things in general. I told the last girl I was seeing that I didn’t want to date. I still don’t. But I’d very much like to have a few people to call and chew the fat with.
This is why I strive to stay busy: If I’m working on projects that require my full attention, I don’t have too much time to sit and sulk like a dope. Lately I’ve had nothing *but* time. Kaplahr. Kaplahr, indeed.
In the mean time, I’ve got Mary’s show to look forward to tomorrow night. Also, the woman that’s directing my one-act, Strange Bedfellows, will be there. She’s part of the crew. It’ll be nice to have a chance to talk to her about what she’s got in mind for the play, as it’s one of my favorites… that I’ve written. Shallow much?
It’s an intriguing feeling; the script, short little number that it is, is my creation, and I feel responsible for it. For the second time, it’s going to be produced completely out of my hands. Which, of course, is the way it should be. So why does it feel so strange… I suspect it’s as much the novelty of the experience, as anything else. The last time the show was done, it was a directing project of a college friend of mine. I didn’t see anything but the finished product, which I’ll confess was a hit. The audience loved it.
Eh. This too, shall pass. There will be plenty of other things to ponder in the coming hours, I’m sure. Here’s hoping they’re worth it.
Okay. So I have a lot on my mind. I’m not surprised; most of the time I’m neck-deep in rehearsals for one show or another, and I’ve been unoccupied with such pursuits for the last month now.
Yes, I’ve tried to stay busy writing, but that’s a fickle mistress if ever there was one. She’ll visit for an hour or so if I’m lucky, then take off for the rest of the night. How can a day be filled with nothing? The friend that lives closest to me works unusual hours, so I can’t hang out with him like I used to. I’ve read every book, watched every movie and played every game in my collection ad infinitum. So what do I do? I grab a water bottle and a cigar if I’ve got any, put on a pair of sneakers and go for a walk.
The usual concerns and thoughts have been milling around upstairs, vying for top dog status. Money (or lack of same), Tuxxer (Now Nocturne ‘til some other title comes along), the restlessness that’s accompanied my recent acting hiatus, the possible start of my voice-over career, and best of all: loneliness.
I miss having someone around to talk to. Not just whatever I want to talk about, but just things in general. I told the last girl I was seeing that I didn’t want to date. I still don’t. But I’d very much like to have a few people to call and chew the fat with.
This is why I strive to stay busy: If I’m working on projects that require my full attention, I don’t have too much time to sit and sulk like a dope. Lately I’ve had nothing *but* time. Kaplahr. Kaplahr, indeed.
In the mean time, I’ve got Mary’s show to look forward to tomorrow night. Also, the woman that’s directing my one-act, Strange Bedfellows, will be there. She’s part of the crew. It’ll be nice to have a chance to talk to her about what she’s got in mind for the play, as it’s one of my favorites… that I’ve written. Shallow much?
It’s an intriguing feeling; the script, short little number that it is, is my creation, and I feel responsible for it. For the second time, it’s going to be produced completely out of my hands. Which, of course, is the way it should be. So why does it feel so strange… I suspect it’s as much the novelty of the experience, as anything else. The last time the show was done, it was a directing project of a college friend of mine. I didn’t see anything but the finished product, which I’ll confess was a hit. The audience loved it.
Eh. This too, shall pass. There will be plenty of other things to ponder in the coming hours, I’m sure. Here’s hoping they’re worth it.
posted by Casey Jones @ 6/02/2005 10:22:00 AM
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