Rehearsal Has Eaten My Life

Rehearsal Has Eaten My Life
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

First full week of rehearsal is done, and, as predicted, I am WORN OUT. By Thursday, I was ready to firebomb my workplace, just so I'd have an excuse to stay in bed. (That may be a little extreme, but I'm the Queen of Hyperbole.)

I think I finally made my peace with the fact that New York is ridiculous and that's just the way it is. It no longer enrages me that I pay $850 for an apartment the size of some people's walk-in closets. I still get mad at people who throw their trash in the street and on the subway tracks, but am I really going to say anything to them? No (unless I'm having an "I feel reckless" day; I tend to throw my weight around a bit more on those days, so don't be standing in front of the subway doors when I'm trying to get off or I will hip-check you without remorse). This place is dirty, and smelly, and sagging and staggering under its own weight and bloated sense of importance, and that's just the way it is. I, alone, cannot change that.

You might be able to tell that I still don't love it here, but I'm not going to waste my breath or energy getting angry about its flaws. The flip side of the shoulder-shrug "oh well" attitude is that I feel a sharp pang of longing every time I see or read about a home that fits my dream. I see green lawns, flower gardens, white oak moulding and space space space and I moan a little under my breath. I don't yearn for real estate for prestige, profit, or financial flim-flammery: I just want a real home. A space that I walk into and sigh with relief because it's beautiful and it's mine. Doesn't need to be huge, just comfortable, clean, and quiet.

Someday.