Monday, October 4, 2010

55 Hours Of Living Fully: Part Five

For the last several days, I've been recounting my latest remarkable personal exploits. Where I left off, I had just gotten off a bus near my home after slumbering for well of an hour while making my way from the site of a Toastmasters meeting. Once I got home, my mind was on the one man show workshop I had to get to just after five- I had around four hours before I had to head out, and six before I would have to be ready with as many solid monologues for my show as I could write, two of which I would have to perform. I was not confident about it, even though the whole way my efforts have been praised at every turn.

I had a little time to myself, and I tried to relax a bit on the computer. My roommate came home, and we talked, then struggled through a streamed episode of a new tv show. As we did that, I grabbed a fresh legal pad, then wrote and wrote and wrote. This went on even after I left, although crowded buses and subway cares are less conducive to writing than the privacy of my home. That is to say that the mechanical process of writing becomes more difficult when the elbows cannot be extended and there are a variety of distraction, but there is some inspiration out there. I hoped that what I was crafting with my pencil wasn't trash. It remains to be seen. The remaining moments when I wasn't scribbling were dedicated to rehearsing and timing it all, paying particular attention to what I would be performing. At the end of my travel to class, I found myself with spare time

Though I had feared being late (a common theme with me, I'm aware), I reached the location of the class well early. As the bus let me off by a grocery store, and I was hungry, I went in looking for a sandwich. I didn't care for the prices. I never seem to, but relent and pay them once in a while. I did not do so this time around. I bought a sourdough bread baguette and a generic soda. For whatever reason, eating fresh bread in one sitting as a meal or a snack always draws disbelieving comments. In such ways I unthinkingly set myself apart from everyone, for good or for ill. I don't know when that happens which it is. I once was in the habit of eating a loaf of such bread with a big Hershey's bar after shifts at a restaurant which shared a parking lot with a grocery store of the same chain as the one I visited on this occasion. They have remarkable bread. I had some left, and set it aside to eat later.

Class started, and we did some warm-ups. It was then time to show what we had, and we did so in turn. I was insecure, and went maybe third to last in a group of ten or twelve students. I was pleasantly surprised by a universally positive reaction, and wondered afresh why I age myself so with worry and anxiety. If I can ever see myself as I am and not in a light a thousand times more negatively that anyone, I may be able to relax more. Unfortunately, my labors were not over. When class concluded, I started thinking about the improv show slated for ten o'clock- then just two hours away. Of course, that's purely a fun thing free of stress ordinarily, but this time I was going to be recording parts of the show with my camera, and so worry continued to line my brow. Tomorrow, I shall tell how the source of that worry played out.

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