Stepping In It
Oh God, today is going slow. I'm busy at the day job, usually dragging time is due to boredom. Right now I am waiting on a fairly long running bit of code, but have barely had a chance to breathe the first seven hours. Kind of fun usually. I tend to get odds and ends type projects others don't like doing. As a result I work out of the mainstream, and it has it's own challenges and joys. The biggest danger is you tend to be overlooked when it comes time for reviews and such. The upside is you make people very pleased that haven't had a resource, often for a long time. The managers I've had thus far at Expedia appreciate this, so I haven't had to put up with the second class status so often associated with these types of projects.
I got to wondering if I sound too much the Pollyanna in my journal. Admittedly I do vent, especially about the rampant and vicious corruption of our political leaders. They say the cream floats to the top, but so does scum. Right now scum is certainly in ascendancy. Anyway, back to Pollyanna. I do like writing about what delights and moves me.
Are you people reading bored with effusive descriptions of people and things I experience in the theatre community? I do state every so often, first and foremost, I write this journal for myself. So if the rosy outlook bugs you, deal with it. I often figure out things as I write, and I also burn it into my mind. I am aware of the crap, but why would I want to embrace it? Been there, done that. If you think I should be doing that all the time, "Screw off." You've problems bigger than I want to deal with.
Shit does happen. Last week I had one of those damned boots latched onto my truck wheel as I was unloading a show, in a vacant lot while I was in using the toilet, $200 down the hole. One of my friends brushed me off on Saturday. I got pissed at someone in a rehearsal situation. I did not get a response to an audition query. The table I built didn't look very good close up. I can't find the proofs for my headshot. I missed a friend's show. The insurance company is refusing payment, saying I didn't send paperwork which I mailed and faxed at different times and no longer have. There's plenty more but who really cares? Everything gets worked out or fades into obscurity. Most of these have already had resolutions.
Sometimes things really suck, and I talk about them, like when I was sacked from a show last year. (Of course, that ended up providing a great opportunity with a great director in a great show.) When things are good, well good. I'm not a crisis junkie, and don't want to be like DK, my friend in high school.
In tenth grade DK got a very good paying job at Safeway, in the butcher department. Within two weeks all he talked about was how much he hated the job. Finally he got another, better paying job with the cable company I think. Two weeks later he was bitching constantly again. When he got another good and better paying job, at the shipyard I think, we took bets on when he'd start bitching about the worst job in the world again. He was a pain in the ass to be around.
I saw DK again about three years ago at my home town church. Surprisingly for someone who hadn't seen him in 25 years, he turned into a very distinguished and good looking fellow. However some things hadn't changed, the other guys who had stayed in the area evaporated within seconds of DK mentioning his job. I commented, "I wonder where they went?"
I'd rather be called Pollyanna than DK. I've plenty of demons, and while I do share them here at times, most find their way into different writing projects in a much bigger way. I'm not sure when it happened, but the demons are not the focus of my life, maybe that makes them imps? Sort of a corollary example. Say the light is low, and you step on a giant slug or pile of dog doo. Do you stand there and study the goo on your foot, or do you distractedly brush it against the ground and look at the spectacular sunset in front of you? Me, I like looking at the sunset. Why is it most people choose to study the goo most of their lives?
I got to wondering if I sound too much the Pollyanna in my journal. Admittedly I do vent, especially about the rampant and vicious corruption of our political leaders. They say the cream floats to the top, but so does scum. Right now scum is certainly in ascendancy. Anyway, back to Pollyanna. I do like writing about what delights and moves me.
Are you people reading bored with effusive descriptions of people and things I experience in the theatre community? I do state every so often, first and foremost, I write this journal for myself. So if the rosy outlook bugs you, deal with it. I often figure out things as I write, and I also burn it into my mind. I am aware of the crap, but why would I want to embrace it? Been there, done that. If you think I should be doing that all the time, "Screw off." You've problems bigger than I want to deal with.
Shit does happen. Last week I had one of those damned boots latched onto my truck wheel as I was unloading a show, in a vacant lot while I was in using the toilet, $200 down the hole. One of my friends brushed me off on Saturday. I got pissed at someone in a rehearsal situation. I did not get a response to an audition query. The table I built didn't look very good close up. I can't find the proofs for my headshot. I missed a friend's show. The insurance company is refusing payment, saying I didn't send paperwork which I mailed and faxed at different times and no longer have. There's plenty more but who really cares? Everything gets worked out or fades into obscurity. Most of these have already had resolutions.
Sometimes things really suck, and I talk about them, like when I was sacked from a show last year. (Of course, that ended up providing a great opportunity with a great director in a great show.) When things are good, well good. I'm not a crisis junkie, and don't want to be like DK, my friend in high school.
In tenth grade DK got a very good paying job at Safeway, in the butcher department. Within two weeks all he talked about was how much he hated the job. Finally he got another, better paying job with the cable company I think. Two weeks later he was bitching constantly again. When he got another good and better paying job, at the shipyard I think, we took bets on when he'd start bitching about the worst job in the world again. He was a pain in the ass to be around.
I saw DK again about three years ago at my home town church. Surprisingly for someone who hadn't seen him in 25 years, he turned into a very distinguished and good looking fellow. However some things hadn't changed, the other guys who had stayed in the area evaporated within seconds of DK mentioning his job. I commented, "I wonder where they went?"
I'd rather be called Pollyanna than DK. I've plenty of demons, and while I do share them here at times, most find their way into different writing projects in a much bigger way. I'm not sure when it happened, but the demons are not the focus of my life, maybe that makes them imps? Sort of a corollary example. Say the light is low, and you step on a giant slug or pile of dog doo. Do you stand there and study the goo on your foot, or do you distractedly brush it against the ground and look at the spectacular sunset in front of you? Me, I like looking at the sunset. Why is it most people choose to study the goo most of their lives?
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