The Calendar is Still Green

Isn't it funny, as I play the role of the gardener of my life, that I haven't visited the potential for this year yet? Hey, look - January is almost over (and that rent check, I must remember to get that ready), but I haven't done anything significant yet. I feel myself getting closer to something, the climate changing, maybe even a huge hazy something on the horizon starting to take shape. I can't quite...identify...

Wait - is it old age? Maybe it's too early for that.

Is it just the fact that I'm up late writing? I'm usually up at this time. Not that it's good, mind you, but I'm...sitting here evaluating where I'm standing.

Yes, I know where this is coming from. It just occurred to me that when I returned from Miami, I saw my home a little differently. At the height of craziness last year, I was balancing two plays simultaneously and stretched myself to transparency. I might have done too much, but at the same time I can guarantee you that I'm the only one with perspective on how crazy that was to attempt. In the end, the ribbon and bow on the whole gift of exhaustion to my holiday season was the fact that my play was able to raise over $600 for the Komen Foundation. That streak of charity work still lingers and my work isn't done, but aside from benefits to all, I stand here thinking two things: 1) I am capable of much more than this, and 2) I still haven't detached myself from the past.

I have a unique - that's a safe word, unique - awareness of the fact that I am always meeting new people but I haven't said goodbye to some of the most important people in my life. Some of those may return, and it's only indifference that keeps their corner of my life silent. There are others who didn't say goodbye. Maybe I didn't give them a chance to...because...it wouldn't have measured up to my expectations or value in it. I didn't say goodbye. Because of that, and because of indifference on the part of the others, I still think about them and it consumes me sometimes. Is that healthy? Nope. Sometime soon, for my heart, I may pick a quiet moment to say goodbye to each of them.

The funniest thing about all this, of course, is the fact that I vowed to quit this blog. I quit. Really. I'm done. Maybe not. For tonight, okay. Fine. With all of that off my chest and out of my head, I can now take some Tylenol PM, throw myself in bed, and not think about this for once.

Isn't it interesting how I devour and fully appreciate these experiences I have with people until I'm full, and that in turn makes me independent and selective to a fault? I've got stuff to do, people, things to create and invent and new ideas to discover. I've got people in my heart who have inspired me, so...if you don't mind, I'm going to evolve into something a little more comfortable.

Blogs are Stupid

I've started over 400 different blogs. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but I'm about to quit this one. I blame technology; I kept a journal for about seventeen years before it started diluting into a few computers, PDAs, plays (beware, people from my past), and...then the ultimate emotional graveyard, the blog. It even sounds like something you should have cauterized and removed. Nevertheless, I'm a paragraph into the latest one - what you're reading now - and I don't know where this is going to go.

One thing I will tell you (and who are you, by the way?) is that for the first time in years, I'm deliberately not making a huge project plan for the year. There are the inevitable projects - one-act festivals to produce, the annual film festival, revisiting whether or not I want to bring back the musical, and the subsequent nosebleeds. I feel like something big is waiting to happen, like a huge 3 story hand, cocked and ready in "flick" mode and aimed at the back of my head. I've got three or four groundbreaking projects that are sitting in the back of my mind, out of focus and a bit in the shadows, but I don't know which one is going to step forward.

How much longer will I be at Playhouse? How much longer will I be at 21st? Will Warner Bros. come through on their promise to put me in the right place to work and network and eventually run the studio? Will Batman escape the huge cheese grater that Mr. Squeak is lowering ever so slowly?

Boredom is my enemy. Mediocrity is my greatest fear. Chocolate is my friend. We'll find out together through this very blog if I find the answers I'm looking for and...you know what, never mind. I'm quitting this blog. Or not.