Nov 10 18

It's been a long Sunday. The night begins at 4:45, so I'm left anxious like I wasted a day that was not, after all, wasted. Have a show tonight. I feel out of practice and don't want to go, but if I don't go when I can, then I'm even more out of practice, so I always go. When asked.

My anxiety has been topping out around 11 AM this week. I have to be on set by 12 or 1 or 2, and I've learned that isn't good for me. I don't want to go hard working in the mornings because I'll be on the clock until midnight, but I get frantic by the time I'm shoving my junk in a purse, trying to get out the door in the late morning. "I didn't even do anything!" I mutter.

My nails look great. I opted for a bright purple, which seems Novembery. I also put two stickers on my laptop today, which I have never done before. I thought about it for a long time. First, do I want to deface valuable object. Second, do I want to put stickers I like on an object that will eventually be valueless. I thought about a mural in a Thai restaurant by i_ in Chicago. It's downstairs by the bathroom. Something like, "Use the good China, you only get one life." I'm sure the person who painted those words in a restaurant basement didn't consider me, a decade later, putting a cartoon clam on my computer.

Friday afternoon I decided to spend some quiet time cracking this screenplay I'm outlining. But I didn't feel like my usual pastry antics, so I went to Del Taco for Beyond ground beef and Diet Coke. I set out my pens and paper and started going at it, but a very dirty man three booths from me was truly hacking so hard I thought he might die right there. He accentuated each cough with a loud, angry swear. "Can't even read the paper," he'd be yelling. I was afraid of him and afraid for him. I think I want to help people, but I can't help everyone. Perhaps I can help at least the people in front of me, but then sometimes the person in front of you is too scary or you've decided they don't deserve it for some other reason.

I've always had this belief that anyone can do anything I have done. I guess it sort of makes all my accomplishments less shiny. But I really really do believe any old person, given a couple weeks rehearsal could pop off an improvised musical, run a marathon, write a play, be in a healthy relationship, pitch jokes to their own high school comedy idol (current job). Lo tells me she is sure she could not do it. But I know she could. But also I don't know that!

I'm grateful to have been so close to shimmery possibilities this year and watch myself come to dislike half of them once they're out of my view. It's not fun, but it is telling.