Work

Somedays, like yesterday, I decide that going to rehearsal is the bane of my existence and that I'd much rather do absolutely do anything besides this for forever, please.
And then somedays, like today, I realize that what I love is something incredible and The Universe has given me the biggest gift The Universe can possibly give, which is to fulfill you (a lot) and pay you (a little) at the very same time.

I am working on a production of Far Away right now with the tiniest theater I've worked with since moving to Portland. I am receiving the smallest amount of money I've ever accepted for a professional gig. There are almost no rules at this theater and we've spent the last month kinda of knitting a play together out of text, imagination, love, spare time, and actual yarn. We go into tech on Sunday and I have no real idea what to expect, simply because this process has been so unorthodox. But at the end of rehearsal tonight, as my director gave notes and I re-set all our props, I looked back over my shoulder at a small folding table with five people sitting at it, at a riser covered in preposterous hats, and at a wall lined with hand-made, woolen, art installations and I thought, "Wow, Universe. You've dealt me a really fucking good hand."

Usually, I have a stupidly hard time looking at my life and being grateful. It is really easy to look at what everyone else has and pout. It's even easier to look at yourself and say, "Who the fuck is this bitch?" in a very nasty voice. So I'm glad that, even for a tiny moment tonight, I was able to stop pouting.