Days When Things Are Hard

So I've spent the majority of my time on this blog talking about how wonderful everything is, and how I always seem to feel at home and as if I have a purpose.  Well, today is one of those days when I just don't.

Have you ever read Oh The Places You'll Go?

You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed. You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don’t.

Because, sometimes, you won’t.

I’m sorry to say so but, sadly, it’s true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you.

You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You’ll be left in a Lurch.

You’ll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you’ll be in a Slump.

And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And I don't know.  I guess I feel like I should know all the answers to all of these things, as if I should know exactly what I want out of life and I'm ready to go take it.  The truth is, as much as I love social work, it isn't my life's goal to do it.  And I think that being here and doing this job has taught me that already.  I love my job, don't get me wrong.  I'm so blessed to have gotten the opportunity to experience all that I'm experiencing.  And I am working with people, and learning their stories and all about them, and making a difference, and all of that.  But I don't walk away from work with my soul singing.  Not like the way that it did that one time in Dylan's living room when we blocked Charisma, or the time I sat in a coffee shop trying to figure out how to block six people and get the perfect balance, line, and weight of the picture on stage, or the time I had to pull together a tangle of clothes to create the perfect costume mood for Lauren's senior recital, or the time I had to find exactly the right words to resonate with an actor in Can't Thread A Moving Needle, and balance all of the elements to accurately depict the nuances of frustration, pain, and anger at the occurrences of rape on a college campus.  I know, I know, I had that opportunity to continue it, and I didn't take it.  I can't regret it, and I don't.  I want to consider this year as a year of studying people, and striving to understand them, which I suppose is a writer/artist thing to say, but its true.  What is this underworld of homelessness?  How does it work? Why do you think the way that you do?  How do you get here?  I'm fascinated by the stories.

I miss Santa Clara.  It's odd, because I don't miss the place, persay, because, truthfully, I don't really at all.  I'm so happy to be out of there, and out of California.  Part of me wonders if I'll really go back.  What I miss are the people, the experiences, and that sense of being on top of the world.  Walking into the theatre building and feeling like I was born to be there.  Being able to reference dramatic tension, commedia del arte, the gender roles and expectations produced by storytelling, or the difference between side-light and front-light over dinner without feeling like a freak.  I miss the comfort.  I suppose that's to be expected with any major life change.  One gets comfortable, and works their way to the top, and then outgrows it, in a sense, and must move forward.  But moving forward is change, and change is hard, harder than anything else, I think, but even so we must press on, learning to place our roots in other soils.  In the last month, I've changed my job, my home, my lifestyle and all of my friends.  Considering it takes about three to six months to adjust to any major life change, compounding four of them on top of each other is rather radical.  And I realized last night that I haven't had "non-theatre friends" who don't necessarily speak my language since I was 16.  No wonder I feel like my head won't stop spinning.

I guess I need to give myself a break.  As Dylan wisely reminded me last night (between his explanations of blocking and lighting of the show he's working on currently, which was so so so welcomed) -- I've only been out of college for three months.  SCU started on Monday, so its really only been a week's difference.

I don't know.  Life goes on.