We may not have it all together . . .


If today weren’t smack where it is in the middle of my crazy life, it might have been a pretty bad day.
But by comparison it was good.
And I mean that in a really positive way, actually–
all the way down to the fact that right now ALL I want to do is nap but can’t seem to manage.
But instead I am working through things and that’s better, no?

So, the phone RANG like crazy all day.  I was frustrated and distracted.
But I helped people.  Six or so people left better than they came.
One couple, who I only overheard since my volunteer was working with them
really spoke to my conflicted condition.
At first they seemed annoying.  COMPLETELY.
And just when I was about to pass judgment, I realized that the man clearly had serious issues.
It is amazing to me how many fully competent humans are changed by terrible accidents.
Even though he seemed to have some pretty terrible brain trauma (mostly affecting social behaviors), he is still a truck driver.
Sadly though, he used to have this amazing job in Baltimore.  Now he drives because it’s the only thing he can do.
His wife must struggle because who knows the kind of ridicule, etc that they endure in public.
In his babbling he said he was proud to have had her for 17 years, that he remembers trying to make a split second decision
during the horrible auto accident, and he kept offering to repay us any way he could– driving people places or whatever.
There wasn’t much left he could do, but he said “if it has a steering wheel, i can handle it!”
He wanted to share responsibility and for some reason it was heartbreaking and in his random selection of quips and phrases he said,
“Like they say, We may not have it all together, but together we have it all!”

Point being, I’ve tried not to have such a whiny day since then.  Whenever I feel a wave of self pity, I just pick a new thing on my to-do list.
And things are getting done.  Mostly still for Charlie Brown.  But there is so much to be done and I just have to keep going.
I am confident about the show and glad to be accomplishing so much.  I just feel no real joy in it.
Perhaps that will come back in rehearsals, but I’m more afraid than hopeful.

Then there is the fact that I am GOING to the city.  I am having that feeling like right before my birthday where getting work done seems like a logical trade off . . .
But I will NOT miss HAIR.  I need to see [title of show].  I keep watching the opening night footage and getting all kinds of butterflies.  And . . . Johnny is playing Joe’s Pub—
coincidentally the night I planned to arrive.  I just got tickets.  Of course, if no one goes with me I will be begging random city folk to join my party.  And if I bail myself I will have the pain I had back in October of selling great experiences to someone else.  I don’t think that’s an option . . .
so work. work. work.  then PLAY.  then work. work. work. work. work.

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