On the Bright Side

In case anyone is reading this, and doesn’t already know, the last five months or so have done an admirable job of bringing home my place and function in the universe. To be perfectly honest, actually, the last year and-a-half has been less than stellar.

Okay, so the wheels started to wobble at the end of ’04, but no need to dwell, eh?

Of late, though, every day feels vaguely like a new, fresh, low-grade ass-kicking. I am tired. I am pissed off. I am not getting laid which does absolutely nothing for my disposition. Despite the fact that I am most-assuredly NOT an optimist, I’m doing my level best to put a bright and smiling face on things as much as possible. Granted, the smile is a byproduct of some pretty serious teeth-gritting, but given the alternatives, there’s really no choice.

Well, no choice that does not involve risking jail time.

It’s not so much that I’m trying to get “back on track” (a phrase I loathe and think smacks of ra-ra corporate bullshit); more I’m trying to feel like I’m not tied to the damned track. And if I can find a ticket window that will sell me a ticket to someplace that doesn’t suck, so much the better.

To that end, I’m trying to expand my personal endeavors. Example the first? This blog. A good exercise I think, even if virtually no one reads it (hi, Mandy). Example the second? Well, I’m writing a play. Of course, right now it’s not very good—I’m not sure it can ever be—and even if it could I don’t know anyone to put it on. Whatever. That’s not the problem at this point. At this point the problem is the end of Act 1. Or rather, the problem is that I don’t know yet how Act 1 ends.

And I’m making new friends. Or trying to. “What of your long-time local friends?” you ask. Hmm. How can I say this? We had a 15 minute conversation about banking the other night. Behold, a pale horse. It was like I had landed on a space called “Shuffleboard” on a mythical Monopoly board and had been forced to move my little pewter dog directly the AARP holding pen.

Yeah. I’m thirty. And single. And not getting any. And I don’t have actual money. Banking has got to be only slightly less boring to discuss than . . . um . . . I’ll get back to you. It’s not that I don’t love these people, but clearly I’m in a different place right now. A very. Different. Place. Where checking account interest doesn’t matter because there is never any damn money in there, anyway.

And finally? More acting. Not for money, because god, I’m broke enough as it is without having to worry about that flavor of madness. But for fun, I hope, with people I like and can learn things from. Again I hope. We’ll see, I suppose.

Now if only I could get a pause in the daily ass-kickings. Because, yeah. That’d be awesome.