2001-10-26

Crisis, um.

We interrupt this normally light-hearted romp to bring you a sudden, frantic

Ahem.

So.

What the fuck am I doing with my life?

I'm an accounting troll in a basement. I've tried to salve the wound, so to speak, by reassuring myself that � hey, at least I work in a theatre � but it's just not proving to be as soothing a salve as it once was.

I crunch numbers. I maintain databases. That's what I do. Oh, and I get berated by a coven of harpies if something goes wrong, or if I can't translate problems into a language that they can understand.

It's getting harder and harder to give a rat's ass about what goes on around here. This is wrong, I know.

Last night I met Christopher Durang, who is, quite possibly, my favorite modern American playwright. I also had a really nice chat with John Kuntz, where we realized that we've been traveling in similar theatrical circles for years, knew all the same people and blar-de-blah.

He's really doing something, and I'm just treading water.

I have a Master's degree in playwriting. I haven't written a play in five years.

It's not as if I'm not being entirely uncreative; I've spent the last three years in a band. I've put out zines. Yet somehow, last night, I got a cosmic nudge of sorts: maybe you should stop what you're doing right now, quit your job, and put yourself in a position where your creative energy isn't being sucked up by crap that makes you miserable, and ultimately, doesn't matter. Free fall and live on rice and beans.

lisamcc at 1:55 p.m.

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