I'm, woah, I'm still alive

I'm not dead yet (which doesn't mean I don't wake up in terror over another dream about the inevitability of death) but I've just been too listless to post anything... the next time I'm at work and I start thinking that it would be great to just lounge around I need to remember this week. Although my car being in the shop has been part of the problem I think my current ennui is really a result of the usual post-show fallout. Every time a play ends I go through some kind of bleak period, no matter how grueling or frustrating the show may have been. Play productions around here take about two months from soup to poop, and very intense short-term communities develop in that time; the cast and crew may love or loathe each other, but there we are, in each others' lives...then we aren't anymore. The bubble formed by this sudden vacuum always leaves me without air. This time it was particularly hard because the community that formed with Twelfth Night was (apart from race) so diverse; people of all ages, kids, folks who are and aren't familiar faces on the local theatre scene. It gave me a really warm sense of being in a well-rounded and complete social situation, and then BAM! back to stewing in my own juices.

I've really enjoyed the beauty of Forest Park over the last week, but I can't wait to be mobile again. Oddly enough I think my commute to work gives me a sense of literally and metaphorically going somewhere that has become important to my emotional equilibrium. I'm not one of those people who enjoy driving for its own sake, but I really FEEL like I'm stagnating when I never travel farther than I can comfortably walk, which has been the case this week.