So the whirlwind continues. In another 36 hours or so we’ll be knee deep in wedding festivities, the perfect capper to what has been the single craziest month of my life. Beginning with my birthday back on May 3rd, I’ve seen the start the softball season, the madness of a tech week followed by a two weekend run of “One Before Forty”, a 32-hour bachelor party, a trip to Fenway, an Acme board meeting, a job interview, a going-away party for laid-off employees, numerous rehearsals for Festival, four days of craziness that is the Festival itself, two tuxedo fittings, a wedding rehearsal dinner, about a half-dozen shows I’ve seen, countless hours spent on audition preparations, and – as you might guess – practically zero sleep. I think I may have even tried to slip a couple of dates into that mess, although I wouldn’t be surprised if gingerirish came forth with evidence to refute that claim.
Yet despite the fact that I’ve been reduced to a state of near zombification as a result (as evidenced by one of my co-workers looking at me the other day while standing at the time clock and saying, “Jesus. What hit you?”), and *despite* the fact that I’ve been accused of being a wee bit… “surly” we’ll call it, and *despite* the ungodly amount of stress that these events have heaped on my shoulders, the truth remains that I can’t recall a time when I’ve ever been quite this happy.
The softball team is winning and I’m playing the best I have in years. The show went well during it’s run and even better at Festival. All the shows I’ve seen have been good-to-great, with my friends in particular really shining. The Bachelor Party Extravaganza was deemed a success (in spite of the groom’s cracked rib). The job interview was among the best I’ve ever had. Tracy has yet to complain about the lack of attention. And – oh yeah – my best friend is getting married in less than 48 hours to a woman who makes him so happy it can’t even be charted.
All this while my car is crying out for repairs, my company is turning into a morgue, the country is at war, gas prices are out of control, God has unleashed the full wrath of Mother Nature on the planet, the Sox are struggling(!), and the daily news is filled with more awful stories of man’s inhumanity towards man than I can ever recall.
It’s crazy, this thing we call life. It lifts you up, it drags you down. It makes you question, and it forces you to react. And it never, *ever* stops moving until the day it simply stops, and even then, it goes on for everyone else. There is nothing you can do but live it. Which I have been. More lately than I ever have before.
It’s odd. I’ve been schlepping this pebble for some 34 years now. I have no more idea today what I’m doing here than when I was a six year old playing wiffleball in my driveway. All I knew then was that I did what I did because it made me happy. All I know *now* is that I do what I do because it makes me happy, although that now includes doing things that *don’t* necessarily make me happy because those things lead to others which do (job=money=food=happy). For all information and experience I’ve accumulated, I’m not any wiser than I was as a child. I still the cherish the same things: food, friendship and laughter, all of which are in as much of an abundance today as they ever have been.
Which is the greatest blessing of all. Because quite frankly, I don’t think I could handle much more.