Yesterday was a day where I felt distinctly overwhelmed. The morning was spent trying to cram as much work activity, including enquiries, con calls and the like. Then it was zipping off to my driving academy where my instructor was not only cranky and irritable, but inordinately sensitive to criticism. I came home with my ankles, back and arms hurting and wondering why I was bothering with the whole driving thing.
The night brought a more pleasant diversion – a meeting of writerly minds for what promises to be a huge theatre event. I’m plenty excited about it, but as with most projects in my life right now I have to keep mum. A lot of things to keep me busy with my clients for The Job for this quarter and the next, while it looks like theatre is stealthily embracing me, as though she’s been waiting all of my life.
Both my father and mother were theatre practitioners – my father acted and wrote plays with a decidedly religious bent. My mother writes scripts for radio, acted in theatre and sang while also being quite the actress herself. My sister is the real thespian/performer in the family but, for some reason, decided to recede in the background and avoid the limelight.
Now I’m surrounded by theatre performers and enablers which is both exhilarating and frightening. It feels like home and yet it scares and confuses me. Ultimately, I want to give back to the world and make a difference. But I’d be a terrible social worker. I’m too poor to be a philanthropist. I don’t have the single-mindedness to become the advocate for a single cause.
So the route I’ll take is this – to do all I can with what I have. To sing, to write, to perform for a purpose and believe wholeheartedly that if God does want me to do something, he’ll give me the tools and the time to do it. I’m no longer the young narcissist or self-absorbed lost wannabe artist/writer.
I’m just me, and that’s good enough for Him.