One of the challenges of a cancer diagnosis is not thinking every that’s wrong with you is related to what you’ve got. The other night I turned to Jaimie and was like, “Is this progression??” She was like, “It’s a hang nail.” And I screamed, “You’re point???”
I’ve been in a good mood recently. I’ve been feeling better physically, so that certainly improves my outlook. I’ve been like, “Why am I so happy??? Oh because my ribs don’t hurt from coughing!”
I think the main reason for my cheery disposition is that I have rehearsals coming up.
It’s hard for me not to be stoked when I’ve got a show right around the corner. I also experience severe panic and paranoia, but mainly…stokedness
I think it’s because performing requires all of me.
I love to write, obviously, and that is mentally and emotionally taxing. But I can’t physically see people’s reactions. If they laugh, that’s great. If they don’t, that’s fine too. If they read it in bed and fall asleep half way through- I will never know. Unless, of course, they’re sociopaths and feel the need to tell me. “I’m so thankful for your blogs, nothing puts me to sleep faster!”
That not the case when you’re performing. There you get reaction in real time. Which can be thrilling… or ABSOLUTELY HORRIFYING.
I don’t think people fully appreciate how horribly a play can go. I appreciate it. I’m fully aware of it all the time. Lines can be lost. Entrances can be missed. Audiences can snore. Reputations can be ruined. Because it’s an illusion. An illusion we’ve come together to create. And anything can fuck it up.
But when it goes right…
When you come out clean on the other side…
It’s the best thing I’ve ever experienced.
I guess it’s why people climb mountains, or walk tightropes between buildings. The threat of the danger. The threat of disaster. When I know it’s coming…it just makes me feel so alive.
And that’s a feeling I no longer take lightly.
Every Brilliant Thing.
The Warehouse Theatre