Small Promises

It's been a day of polarities.  It was my first run through of my new program for classes, portraying a historical character for the Transit Museum, and in spite of all my fears and worries (or perhaps because of them, at least in small part... I'm still not over the idea of fear being useful as a motivator, no matter how persuasive Elizabeth Gilbert may be) I did not blank out in the middle of the twenty-five minute presentation.  Everyone seemed to really enjoy it, and the educators and leaders were effusive in their praise of the story telling session.  Was it perfect?  No.  But it was successful, and the first performance down of many.

After it was finished, I was surprised that the need was so strong in me for celebration.  I needed some kind of commemoration of the day, and so I joined some of the other employees at The Shake Shack for burgers.  Mine was a mushroom burger, as I'm still going strong in my plan of not eating pork or beef, even though I'm not quite ready to give up chicken, and it was delicious.

But then... I picked up my reproductions of my head shots, and in spite of being pleased by that step in the right direction (I haven't had an audition since my first), the evening settled into a strange kind of melancholy.

Maybe it's the realization that I can't, and never will be able to make New Yorkers do exactly as I want.

•    There will always be the ocassional nimrod who stops suddenly in the midst of a group of people crossing the street.
•    There will always be the lady who spreads out on the subway when she could easily scoot over and let someone (namely me) take a seat next to her.
•    And there will always be people who snake in front of me in line at the Duane Reade.

Likewise there will always be someone who doesn't follow the rules as I see them.  And if I were smart I would realize that I can follow the rules closely as is my need and yet I don't have to be attached to others doing the same.  I don't need to judge them or let them taint my day because they don't realize that they are heading up the stairs on the wrong side, blindly pushing into on-coming traffic.  Why does that seem so difficult to do?  Why does it feel like the option is follow the rules and secretly seethe over those who don't or... buy into the mayhem of a world where everyone does their own thing, which would entail my dancing in the streets against the pedestrian traffic lights, shoving my way onto the subway before letting passengers step off.  Why must it always be one or the other?

Maybe it's that things aren't moving as quickly as I like, and I still need another job in order to make ends meet and that I haven't been as diligent in the search for work (either day job or auditions) as I should.  And it may also be the fact that for the past couple of days I've shrugged off writing, promising to do it "later".  

Maybe it's that my social life has not developed to it's fullest yet, and you can't fill up your dance card on the back of a few friends.  

Maybe it's all of those.  And of course, a solution is apparent, at least on some levels.  Baby steps.  

1. Call a friend
2. Write on my current project for fifteen minutes
3. Gather the info on those temp agencies I was referred to and plug them into the computer for easy usage later
4. Apply to one job tonight.
5. Go through the audition calls for ten minutes.  

So, that's what I have promised to do.  I wandered the streets of downtown Brooklyn for awhile, looking in at the shops for something to cure my ills, but when it comes down to it, the solution is as easy and as difficult as that.  Do something.  The thing that my mind is wheedling you to do.  Even if I only do it for a small amount of time.

Here's to keeping small promises.