The thing about spring is it just makes me want to dance. What’s wrong with that, you say? Well nothing, unless you’re strapped to a desk typing at a rate of 70 wpm. And why does it always seem that the most beautiful weather comes with the most excruciating deadlines?
Still, there was some good news. I heard from my friend in Greece, and she told me all about this incredible program where you travel the countryside putting on shows. Sounds like a dream job! I’m so impressed with all she has done since graduation. I feel like while I’ve hidden behind a computer screen and shrunk from life, she’s gone out and grabbed adventure and her dreams by the reins and told them where to go! It’s inspiring to see, really. But it does make me feel like a little chicken.
Something she said to me really got me thinking. And it was a pretty simple thing to say, too. When I told her I was so proud of her accomplishments, but could never do them myself, she simply said, “Why not?”
I’ve been thinking a great deal about “taking ownership.” Taking ownership of my life, making sure I’m the one who holds the reins and putting out exactly what I want to see in the world. Having a sense of peace about it all—but that doesn’t mean putting out the fire!
If anything, I am on fire! I feel more passionate about what I do now than anything I’ve ever done before. Proof to me that if you put it out there, you’ll get it back. By letting go and having faith I’ve been more free than ever before.
Which brings me to this new show. Auditions were today and I just know I got it! Well, I don’t know, but if those auditioners weren’t completely dead inside they’ll know I’m the right one for the role. Just think…. I could be in Gary’s first play! I’ve seen everything he’s ever directed in town before, and just to step on stage with artists of that caliber, well it’s proof to me that I’m right where I want to be.
I’m so thankful for the opportunity I had today. And even if they don’t call me (which would be crazy!), I’m proud of how I did.
When I was in my twenties, I thought that in my thirties I would have all the answers. That I would have figured it out by now.
Now that I’m here I have to laugh. Have I figured out anything except that I haven’t figured it out yet? Does that even count?
Heh. Maybe that I analyze so much is what’s holding me back. How do you stop analyzing? Certainly not by writing about it. Maybe I should stop doing this! Maybe I should take up watching sports?
Or what if the point is that we never figure it out, that we’re always just pushing forward. Sometimes the current is with you; sometimes you go upstream. All I know is I’m over 30. Come on . . . something!
I know, I know…. It’s just a number. But still! When am I going to feel like I’ve grown up and gotten it all together? Where’s the nice little bow to wrap around my life?
I hear they were having a discount on bows at Target. I should probably just go pick some up to stick around my apartment, after all, it’s the holidays. . . no one would think it strange.
Sometimes when we argue I can almost feel myself breaking away for good. Like I’m a bungee cord stretched to the breaking point and about to snap. And sometimes, I truly believe I’m going to do it, too. Snap. Leave. Move on.
That’s usually about the time I arrive home from fighting with him, or hang up the phone, or delete the offensive email. I look up and see myself in my apartment, and suddenly I feel so trapped. Stuck. Staked in place. For what am I really? Not the bungee cord, no. I’m not flexible, or strong, or liable to break away. I’m the figure tied to the end of the cord, and he’s the one holding the string. I can see him, standing on my rooftop, stringing me along like a puppet as I bounce up and down at his request. And I bounce up and down, peeking in the windows of my neighbors apartments as I go, wondering if their lives are like this too. And all the while I hope he’ll reel me in and that when I get to my roof, it will just be him waiting there.
No strings, no games, just him.
And then, just when I give up all hope, just when I think he’s going to polish his ring and head home, his hand reaches down and pulls me up to the ledge.
And there he leaves me, hanging on for dear life, clinging to the ledge. It’s the perfect vantage point to see him turn around and walk away. But not before he clips my bungee cord to the chimney.