In theory, my life is back to normal as of this week. I’m all moved into the new apartment, I’m back at work, and TunaSpeare is over. But it begs the question, what exactly is “normal”?
Looking at it closely, my day-to-day state of mind is about as settled as it’s going to be. Being on vacation is always disorienting, so being back in the office is at the very lease a grounding point. I can check my email, surf my standard websites to feel somewhat updated on the world, and get on a rhythmic feeding schedule. I guess that qualifies as “normal”.
Then there’s the new place (heretofore dubbed “The WoofCave”). Being there is still kinda odd, but I’m settled in enough that it’s at the very least feeling permanent. Ever since about mid-June when I began the all-out search for a new place to call home, I’ve felt very unsettled. For that matter ever since I moved into the Postage Stamp back in August of ’04 I’ve felt kinda transient. So having a solid location where I can hang my hat, set up shop, and just generally unpack all the shit that is my life and dig in, is comforting. I no longer feel like a hermit.
So what of life beyond all that? Rehearsals for my next project, “First Night”, have (slowly) begun, but that in and of itself is “normal”, at least for me. NOT being involved in a show is when things feel strange. Looking at my schedule I see that the next thirty-five days provide no less than the following:
8 standard rehearsals for “First Night”
1 all-day tech rehearsal for “First Night”
3 dress rehearsals for “First Night”
2 performances of “First Night”
2 potential auditions for the February show slots
2 nights of auditions for Acme New Works
1 Acme “special event”
4 shows I’m required to see as part of my EMACT responsibilities
4 shows I want to see because good friends are prominently involved
2 Halloween parties
1 wedding for a co-worker
2 days of warehouse inventory at work
1 Pats-Colts game that is “Must See TV”
Somewhere in that mess I’ll manage to squeeze in a few “dinner with friends” and other assorted last-minute get-togethers, all while trying to follow the Red Sox race to the World Series. And people wonder why I don’t date.
As someone once said, “I’ve got my country’s five hundredth anniversary to plan, my wife to murder, Gilder to frame for it… I’M SWAMPED!”