18 March 2008

Kids These Days

Let's face it: I struggle, these days, to blog coherently about things other than my dog.

I think I've run out of things to say, and seriously wonder if I should even bother to continue this endeavor.

I will say, though, that – as I grow older – I have stronger and stronger opinions about stuff; it's just that I find them less and less defensible and really don't care to explain them.

Maybe I'm becoming calcified. Maybe I'm turning into a crotchety old man. Maybe I'm turning into a Republican, except, you know, for the unconscionable politics.

I kid, my Republican friends, I kid.

A little.

Anyway, I just find that, in those moments when I find the time to sit down and give some thought to some little pearl of shiny brilliance I'd like to share, I often come up blank, or think to myself, "Why the fuck does anyone care what you think?"

Maybe it's that I've turned this into a little dog and pony show meant to please and amuse you, and forsaken its original purpose, which was to allow my far-flung friends to catch up with my life and amuse myself all at the same time.

But, see, there's been a sea-change in my life in the last couple of years. I've stopped traveling so much. I've stopped acting altogether. I've changed my life, my friends, into the following daily routine:
  1. I wake up.
  2. I feed and water my dog.
  3. I stumble, bleary-eyed, into the shower
  4. I do things in the shower that I'll leave to your imagination; mostly they involve shaving cream and soap.
  5. I leave the shower and finish my daily ablutions.
  6. I take my morning vitamins.
  7. I dress
  8. I drag my dog out for his morning walk. This involves picking up some pretty stinky poop.
  9. I go to work.
  10. I work all day.
  11. I come home and – depending on whether the dogwalker has deigned to grace us with her presence – I rush my poor dog out the door so he can empty his ridiculously over-full bladder.
  12. I feed and water my dog.
  13. I decide if there's work that didn't get finished that I should attack from home.
  14. I drag my dog out for his evening walk. This involves picking up some pretty stinky poop. Usually twice.
  15. I play briefly with my dog.
  16. I go to bed.
  17. I get up and start it all over again.

Recently, I've added a boyfriend into that mix, which is nice and has added both variety and warmth to my otherwise barren existence, but the point remains that I don't have quite the varied and interesting life I had as an actor. No longer, for me, meeting new people while working, the walking and talking with those people, haunting the neighborhoods of the city in which I'm working at 4 a.m.

On the whole, I'm happy to have traded those days for the security that comes with working at The Velvet Prison. But there are days when I'm sitting here staring at the blank computer screen and I wonder if all the interestingness has gone out of my life. I wonder what it is I've become. I wonder who it is I've become.

The most interesting part (to me, of course; you may not give a shit about what I'm thinking) is that I'm must less inclined to judge the person I've become for my lack of interestingness. In many ways, I'm perfectly happy to endlessly loop that list above (with occasional interactions with The Friends and A.Pants thrown in).

Or maybe I'm just tired lately and need a vacation.

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