22 May 2005

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."

That Thoreau was a real yuckfest, wasn't he? I'm not saying he was wrong, but still. Jeez.

I've been seeing a lot of quiet desperation around me lately, and experiencing very little of it... by my usual standards.

Just to clarify, we all know I'm a worrywart, right?

Anywho, I've not been sleeping very well. Typical "while working in theater" stuff. The brain is still racing when the show finishes, and so I end up staring at the ceiling until 3 a.m. I get to sleep in, of course, since rehearsals aren't until noonish or 1 p.m., but then it feels like the entire day was wasted, and as I get older I absolutely hate that feeling.

In the halcyon days of my youth, I didn't give a squat about sleeping 'til 2 p.m. after a night out with other theater-folk, but these days I can't shake the feeling that something's being missed. Even aside from the practical life considerations -- bills that I should sit down and write checks for, e-mails or phone calls to friends, opportunities to send a voice demo to some producer or other I've met -- I just feel that there's probably some impossibly unique moment going on somewhere that I'm missing out on. Especially on a particularly beautiful day, when there might be enthralling cloud formations passing overhead, or some flower out there just waiting to be photographed, or -- for those of you out there who always prescribe more purient interests to my people-watching -- some particularly hot guy to undress mentally.

I guess the long and the short of this is that I'm a little surprised to find myself in this place. Seems like a lot is changing in my head; not sure what to call it.

Growing up?

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