Monday is my fabricated New Years Day. I treat most Sunday nights like it is New Years Eve I make plans to work out more in the week to come, to write more, to send more proposals, to finish more plays and to open myself to the possibility that my life can change for the better at any movement. I always try to make Sunday count.
This weekend, for example, I went to Pop Physique with my spandex clad mother. I grunted and huffed and puffed and afterward I made a mediocre smoothie and pulled a full sized paper towel out of my dog’s asshole, a wonderful moment I was glad we could share. After resting for a bit I was dropped off, like a teenager going to the mall, at the Rogue Mechanicals Theater to see Penelope, an amazing play by Enda Walsh. It was hysterical and moving, all of the elements (acting, set, direction) were on point and I was transported to the pool in which the play takes place and I was satisfied. I walked back out in the hot light of day, my mom waiting to take me home and I was ready to finish out my Sunday with optimism, ignoring the fear another work week can sometimes bring.
After being home in time to miss a major lightening storm, after finished my 100th reading of Thom Pain (this time the Will Eno’s play acting as research) That I have learned so much about the structure of storytelling recently, that I have learned so much about myself in the many years that I have started calling myself a writer and that it is time to use that knowledge and plow ahead with confidence. I was whelmed by the understanding that I haven’t written anything fantastic quite yet so I better get on my shit.
So my goals this simulated New Years days is to:
1. Go to SoulCyle twice this week.
2. Finish the edits on a play I would like to start submitting
3. Learn even more about CONDI
4. Get on my shit