Something I Noticed...
I've finally identified the source of my rut.
I've been hanging out with people who wallow in their ruts and it has rubbed off on me in a big way. I've become impatient with them and impatient with myself.
Yesterday a friend called me to complain, yet again, about her significant other's inability to think of her and her feelings 24/7. I finally snapped and told her she was just creating drama for the sake of creating drama and that if she stopped nagging the poor bastard to think about her he might actually come to it on his own. Now, if truth be told, I don't like this guy much. He's a burned out blob with some serious issues, but I've no doubt that half of them came from my friend. And I told her so. I also told her that she might want to stop making every little thing about her and maybe give him a little thought every once in a while so he would know what it feels like.
Why people are friends with me when I talk to them like that, I'll never know.
Of course, the truth is that I need people to smack me from time to time. I'm not always so good at smacking myself. My elbow just doesn't bend that way.
I'm going to register for my first class in six years. I can't wait. My play is almost finished. Though they don't know it yet, the theatrical world can't wait. I've got a line on a job working with at-risk inner city kids. I'll let you know if I take it or not. In reality, I don't have the aversion to working with at-risk kids that I have working with other groups of kids. I've worked with at-risk kids before and I will tell you- they actually have something to say. THAT'S more what I want out of life. Saying things. Doing things.
I've been thinking about starting another blog that is specific to my professional journey. I'd like to invite some friends who work in the industry to contribute their points of view and advice. Not about the part of the business that pisses me off, but about the craft. My friend Ken (Not to be confused with KEN) says that's like selling vegetables to people who like candy. Fuck that. People WANT vegetables. They just don't know it yet. Because if you've ever eaten at my house you'd know that chard is fucking yummy. I just have to invite more people over.
Anyway, I'm bound to feel sorry for myself from time to time. I'm in a tough position and that can't be ignored. But if you catch me sitting in that self-pity space for too long, go ahead and smack the living shit out of me.
Kate Winslet? Surely you jest.
I've been hanging out with people who wallow in their ruts and it has rubbed off on me in a big way. I've become impatient with them and impatient with myself.
Yesterday a friend called me to complain, yet again, about her significant other's inability to think of her and her feelings 24/7. I finally snapped and told her she was just creating drama for the sake of creating drama and that if she stopped nagging the poor bastard to think about her he might actually come to it on his own. Now, if truth be told, I don't like this guy much. He's a burned out blob with some serious issues, but I've no doubt that half of them came from my friend. And I told her so. I also told her that she might want to stop making every little thing about her and maybe give him a little thought every once in a while so he would know what it feels like.
Why people are friends with me when I talk to them like that, I'll never know.
Of course, the truth is that I need people to smack me from time to time. I'm not always so good at smacking myself. My elbow just doesn't bend that way.
I'm going to register for my first class in six years. I can't wait. My play is almost finished. Though they don't know it yet, the theatrical world can't wait. I've got a line on a job working with at-risk inner city kids. I'll let you know if I take it or not. In reality, I don't have the aversion to working with at-risk kids that I have working with other groups of kids. I've worked with at-risk kids before and I will tell you- they actually have something to say. THAT'S more what I want out of life. Saying things. Doing things.
I've been thinking about starting another blog that is specific to my professional journey. I'd like to invite some friends who work in the industry to contribute their points of view and advice. Not about the part of the business that pisses me off, but about the craft. My friend Ken (Not to be confused with KEN) says that's like selling vegetables to people who like candy. Fuck that. People WANT vegetables. They just don't know it yet. Because if you've ever eaten at my house you'd know that chard is fucking yummy. I just have to invite more people over.
Anyway, I'm bound to feel sorry for myself from time to time. I'm in a tough position and that can't be ignored. But if you catch me sitting in that self-pity space for too long, go ahead and smack the living shit out of me.
Kate Winslet? Surely you jest.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 9:39 AM
2 Comments:
I left Nashville a couple years back because all my friends there spent more energy complaining about their careers in music than playing their damn music. Talk about a rut. They are STILL there. I realized I wanted to be around people who would create just because they loved the process, not because they needed their egos stroked like bratty children.
Now, I write more than ever and I don't miss thinking of nice ways to tell people to get off their asses and DO something.
Good for you. I hope some of these false starts will turn into a real start soon.
If you've got a good pair of boots, I got a big ass that needs a sound kicking! The plus with me is, you don't even have to be so nice about it!
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