Woke up this morning just feeling wretched. Not sick, really. Just unable to really move.
We had the final rehearsal for the staged reading last night and I have to say I walked in just thinking, “This is shit. This is crap. Just kill it while you can.” Since the last rehearsal there had been theater problems, friend problems, family problems – all relating to the reading, and I felt like why even bother if it’s gonna be such a pain in the ass, you know? Had the rehearsal sucked just as badly as the previous days, I would have told everyone to piss off for sure.
But the thing is… it didn’t. In fact, it exceeded all my expectations. Please understand that when you’re doing when of these readings, you pretty much have to slap everything together in a matter of days. So there’s really no time for subtleties or nuances – or even fucking getting your steps right. You’re basically throwing shit against a wall and hoping it comes out chocolate pudding. But this was chocolate mousse! It was phenomenal. I found myself laughing so hard, I actually hurt myself.
And I realized, of course, we had to do this. No matter what the problems were. For myself, personally, I’ve finally shown that I can write straight comedy, joke a minute comedy, without all the insecurities I used to have about “Will they like me? Will they think I’m stupid?” No, because you have to be pretty damned smart to write comedy like this. Watching my cast last night, I was pretty damned proud of myself – and that’s a good thing considering how few of my friends or family actually are. As I mentioned before, you really get a feel for who is in your corner during times like this. The guy who says he’s too busy or can’t go because his spouse won’t let him ain’t nothing compared to the guy who offers you his home to rehearse in and comes by to get a look. Anyway, I walked out of there last night like I had a new lease on life, like I was actually a worthwhile person (for a change), and it was wonderful.
Then, as I said, I woke this morning feeling completely horrid. I lay in my warm bed and thought, “Why? Why? Why?” And from out of somewhere came a reply. It said, “Your work is done, isn’t it? No more writing. No more directing. You’ve got everything taken care of. You’ve done your part. Is it any wonder you’re exhausted? Here’s a thought: Rest up. Relax. When Saturday comes, you’ll be able to sit back and enjoy the show and enjoy everyone else enjoying the show.”
Good idea. But I still feel like crap.
Oh well. That’s okay.