Clean Slate

Step 1:  Make Time

What do you care about? Make time. 

What do you want to accomplish? Make time. 

It seems that we end up making time for things that are easy, things that stress us out, things that exhaust us. Rather than focusing and conquering, we avoid, distract, and procrastinate, as if we've found a shortcut to success. Taking a sabbatical from writing was not intentional; I just didn't make time. I ducked behind busyness and accomplished little snippets of lacklustre writing. When I sat down to write, creativity evaded my fingertips, expression bored my brain, my drafts failing me each and every time.

Step 2:  Subject Matter

Potency is in the present. As much as I'd like to write about my boyfriend's visit from the UK or my latest performance, I'd much rather share that I just played chase with a 15-year old doggy, tail wagging despite her sore joints, blindness and deafness. I'd like to share the absolute exhaustion I feel from a sequence of restless nights. I'm compelled to tell of the promise ring on my finger, the coloured pencils on my table, the serenity of the home. It's peaceful.

I wonder how I accomplish making lifelong friends every year (this isn't a pass at my social skills, but a reflection on the intricate entwinement of human lives.) I guess we constantly play a game of tag, dashing and darting with friends old and new, a series of events that bring some closer together and others further apart. 

Since the completion of my show, I've instigated an honourable attempt at deep cleaning. I've rediscovered boxes of old letters, the pair to my ballet shoe (about time, Sal), and finally sat down to design my Show Shirt Quilt. Cutting the fabric of each shirt, I'm transported to old memories, moments of flirtation, smells of a castmate's cologne, instances of pure dread backstage. I recall the elation I felt as the stage lights caressed my skin, my murky eyes shining green in their purity. The Show Quilt, something I'd been contemplating for some time, rekindled my friendships from America and Australia, us returning to each other in this lifelong game of tag.

Step 3:  Ditch Assumptions 

When I was in kindergarten, I remember having a huge crush on Sean. He had sandy hair and round, chocolate eyes, but I have only one memory of him, one stamped with fear. Hanging out with my brothers on the last day of school, Sean approached me and asked me to sign his yearbook. I was so fearful of speaking to him, of my brothers seeing me blush, of them teasing me for all eternity. So I got up, stumbled away towards the swings and couldn't look back. I vividly remember the heat simultaneously emitting from my face and beating down on my back. I remember hearing the calls of my brothers, confused by my behaviour. My eldest (and most reasonable) asked me why I treated Sean so poorly. I was ashamed. I couldn't tell him how I felt. If I signed that yearbook, my brothers would discover the deep-seated crush I had on Sean. That was the absolute worst thing that could ever happen to me ever!

Strike one (of many) when I assumed how others would react. Moreover, it's a memory that haunts me to this day. My fear caused me to be a rude person. I will never get that moment back. Sean and I could've been kindergarten sweethearts, pen-pals through grade school, and we would've rekindled our bond when swiping right on a round of Tinder (Rick, ignore this.) By succumbing to my trepidation back in kindergarten, I resigned myself to a love story of mediocrity (Rick, ignore this too.) Goodness, I really enjoy teasing Rick, it seems. 

Readers, ditch assumptions that Rick will be offended by my words. When he reads this, he will chuckle to himself and add another ten kisses to the amount I owe him. Yes, he's so affectionate it's nauseating. I'll move on now.

Step 4:  Drill

In reparations for the lack of writing, I have decided to try something new and disciplined in the month of August. The task is called 31 Plays in 31 Days (click link!) I'm sure every single one of you can wager a guess as to what this means. Having never written a play before in my life, I am prepared to fail miserably (Sal, see Step 3, above, to proceed). What I mean to say is, I will give it my best attempt. I imagine I'll write a lot about dogs. Perhaps euthanasia. But mostly dogs. Each play will be published online somewhere, and I'll be sharing a link or two on The Terra Inc. 

Stay tuned, folks.

I also had a lot of fun filming this; ENJOY: fosse choreography!