Every show brings excitement, glitz and fun. The aftermath is always a challenge. This time is no exception. I may have successfully warded off the initial post-show blues, but slowly the realisation dawned that I now have nothing to do.
This is of course a minor exaggeration. I do not have nothing to do. I have to go to work. I have a pile of washing higher than Mount Everest. I have the messiest house in living history (Tracy Emin’s bed – watch out). I have practically no food in the fridge with the exception of an open jar of green olives, beetroot and some goats cheese (actually that’s not as bad as I feared). My thirsty plants are all desperate for liquid refreshment and, as I would quite like some lettuce to go with the odd contents of my fridge, I am reasonably happy to oblige.
On the more exciting front the dog begs to be walked every day. I have dinners planned with my lovely, patient friends who wait for me to spend time with them for around 8 months of the year while I’m rehearsing (that is absurd – I really must do something about that). I spent a whole day at the theatre on Saturday watching a play and a musical. I teach on Sunday mornings. I have parties to go to. You get the idea. There is a lot going on. And yet.
There it is…the “and yet”. Somehow it isn’t enough. I have lots to do but it still feels like nothing. Nice as these things are they don’t challenge me. I don’t feel part of that proverbial bigger picture. I’m not experiencing all manner of nerves and the buzz of excitement that comes from performing. The dinners will be lovely and I will have a great time, sharing with some of my oldest and newest friends, but (no offense to you lovely people) I doubt it will have quite the same effect nor am I likely to come away singing ecstatically about the joys of life itself. And, in any event, when I get home it will all be over and I will suffer from another case of “hello boredom”.
I was so bored on Monday’s bank holiday (perhaps also a result of the lack of sleep from the party the night before…) that I nearly posted the word “Bored” on Facebook. It was only the recollection of having thrown such complaints at my Mum, back in the days when I still had school holidays, that stopped me. I decided that perhaps I was too old now to expect someone else to fix my boredom. I really should start taking responsibility for it myself.
Then it became clear. What I need is a project.
The show was a project. A fixed period of time to achieve something measurable, to some extent at least. But until the next one starts I need another project. Perhaps I should pick up the book or the musical I started to write. Or learn something new. Become a photographer. Or make pottery. Or design beautiful interiors. But then again….
The trouble is that I just love everything about putting on shows. So, if anyone fancies putting on a little show over the summer…
(Image by Luigi Diamanti – http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=879)