"Excellent Good," A Disaster, And What I've (Re) Learned.

I must say, working too much is better than not working at all. So much to think about and so little time to worry about the small things that consume all of us when we are not otherwise engaged.

I find I'm better at setting priorities when I'm working. I have an hour to read the paper, eat breakfast and do the puzzles. (I do Sudoku because it keeps me sharp. Expertise at the game has given me the ability to create very complicated schedules in relatively short amounts of time. I do the crossword puzzles because they keep me thinking and help me remember world events and why I think puns are so funny.) I have 45 minutes to take a shower and get dressed. I give myself 45 minutes to drive to work. (It takes less than 25.) I always plan to arrive at rehearsal an hour before the actors. (I end up with an hour-twenty. I have time to chat, or have another cup of coffee - okay, smoke a cigarette...)

I love running the rehearsal. I like the housekeeping... um, staying on the same page as my actors... letting them know I'm taking care of my company even if that means I have to do a little chiding to keep all running smoothly.

Yes. Work is good. Sharing and caring. Helping and sometimes abetting. As my dear friend would say, "Excellent good!"

My attention is on my current show, my current cast of characters. Until I get 1951-2006 opened, I've postponed really wrapping my head around the next gig that will take me to Seattle, back to LA and on to South Africa. (Ruined, by Lynn Nottage.) I'm excited about the future, but first things first. There is an order. I like order. I like my world to make sense. Hmm. Mark of a stage manager, I think.

I'm so grateful (shouldn't it be greatful?) to my friends and family who've talked to me and struggled through those leaner, darker days with me. I'm happy I've had this blog where I could unload some of those introspective self-absorbed thoughts to the ether. Writing took the pain and muted it, gave it less power, let me sleep.

I'm back.

Now, what the fuck is happening with the oil spill? Tired of hearing whom is at fault. Where are the creative minds who can fix the problem? Oh, my god, it makes me weep with frustration and anxiety. The program "Sunday Morning" did a story about the oil spill. At the end they presented us with old video of the protected habitats in Louisiana. Gorgeous pictures. We stand to lose all that wildlife. The people on the Gulf Coast will lose their livelihood. The oil spill is a crime that will ultimately affect us all. The tragedy is incomprehensible. I have no words.

We go on. We have to. We live and try to bring joy to each new day. It is, after all, our responsibility. I think, more than ever before, we need to look out for each other, lend an ear, a hand and whatever spare change we have lying around. We need to wake up each morning and help.

And look outside ourselves.