"We go days without having a meaningful conversation, and I used to miss you so much when that happened...but it never seemed like you missed me. And I guess, because of it, I stopped missing you"
Okay. This is getting ridiculous. I've been sitting here for a good hour attempting to write this blog entry. I've been burning through metaphors like trees in a California Forest Fire. I even found an old Xanga entry from a friend of mine and tried to tie that, subtly, to what I am feeling right now. But, alas, the attempts to bull shit everything I am feeling are falling short. I think that that marks some serious progress in my development as a human being or, perhaps, it marks a loss of creative steam. Which ever case it may be, I need to write this and I need to write it like Boom, Boom, Pow.
I am coming back to things on my own terms. First of all, stage management. Here I am at CLOC, stage managing 9 productions in a summer with literally no time off. And yet, I am enjoying myself because I am no longer hanging my hat on this career choice. This summer is about making friends, having fun, doing shows and being myself. It's about defining who I am in the theater world aside from CCM and PC and all of my experience up to this point. It is the divorce agreement between me and stage management. This is what you get, this is what I get and that is that.
And then there is the friendship thing. It's weighing on me in a way that I hoped that it wouldn't. I don't feel like I need to change for anyone ever again and if I start to do that, I will not be a happy camper. But, by the same token, I feel so inclined to write things to people and tell them why I can't handle them or why I want them back in my life or on what terms. My issue with that is that I am the one trying again and is it really worth it if they are unwilling to accept that they've hurt me. I have really true, wonderful friends and I don't want to under appreciate them in an attempt to get through to those people who, to some degree, do not deserve my attention or love.
What is worth saving? What is worth returning to with a fresh prospective? Will you listen to what I have to say? Why do I still care? Do I still care?
All of these unanswered questions will have to remain while I spend the rest of my day finishing The Mikado by Gilbert and Sullivan.
