Playing Catch Up: Part III of V

And then the curtain closed. Figuratively. There wasn't an actual curtain.

The Playwrights Festival went on for two more weekends after my show. And over the course of those two weeks, I got to see Zubov take another leap with his acting. He's got a knack for the comedies, the boy has. Kudos, bro. And I had the pleasure of seeing a script by The Portland Rose, which was awesome because I was there when the show was first written. And finally, another play I'd seen take its first steps in readings came to life the third weekend; that was Keaton's latest endeavor.

I love this song. Might have mentioned it prior, but it's called "On Your Porch" by The Format. Listening to it. Reliving some very fond memories. Still fresh. The kind that race through your mind, creating smells and sounds and sights so real you'd swear you were back there—or that you could travel reality and bend it to your will.

But then I like to pretend I can do that on a regular basis. With my writing. I exude joy when I can write. Nothing short of euphoric ecstasy can top a solid writing session. And even then, writing can feel like that. When you finally figure it out.

So it'a Ash Wednesday in my little flashback of a tale. And I had pepperoni pizza for breakfast. The flames of hell lick deliciously at my feet. I was only slightly mortified by this trangression on my faith. Honestly just forget what day it was. I guess that's kind of sad when put into that context. For those not familiar: it's Ash Wednesday. The beginning of Lent. I'm Catholic. Mostly. My old college roommates used to jokingly call me the heretic. Love those guys.

Anyway, Lent brings up the idea of sacrifice. Giving up something you care about for a greater good. And sitting here reflecting on that thought, I realize that I'm much too selfish and spiritually imature to really grasp the concept. Horrifically brutal self-assessment, but none the less real.

Or is it? Some might argue that I once lost someone I cared about because I could not make that sacrifice; I couldn't give up theatre or my busy pace or my need to be all thing to all people to keep her. But it wasn't so simple. Sacrifice, in any stable relationship (and I'm not referring only to people, but to anything that exists in a perfect symbiosis) needs to work both ways.

I'm reminded of something intriguing that Keaton said recently to a group of us as we discussed auditioning and directing for theatre. He said he looks for giving actors on stage. I like that. Giving. Much like a relationship, it's not about taking away from yourself to make things work; it's about what you give.

I think that's a good overall thought process for me this first day of Lent. Rather than deciding what sinful joy I should excise from my life (because that in itself amuses me), maybe I'll think about how I interact with people and how to improve the quality of life of those around me.

Less snark? More patience? Arriving on time? Writing without homonyms? Being there for the people who are there? Pitching in more around the house? Encouraging a friend? Inspiring a stranger? Laughing at a joke at just the right moment? Buying lunch for someone who needs it more than I do?

All good things.

Between Lent and the Festival, I see lots of areas in my life that could stand to be altered a bit by giving a little more.

There seemed to be a prevailing theme in this year's festival.

Honesty.

Being honest with yourself and true to who you are. Good or bad. Being aware enough to stop pretending that you're something or someone you're not. "Separation Anxiety", "No Worse for the Wear", "Tabloid Love", and "Chasing Ozymandias" were four unique shows that all contained characters that were struggling with internal identity crises. I think that's an interesting corallary and statement. Was it serendipitous, or strategically orchestrated by a cunning committee? I guess we'll never know.

So how about that? I think I found my Lenten sacrifice. It works well within the parameters of my recently discovered sense of self-actualized honesty and the radically shifting projection of myself that I cast into the world.

So maybe I'll post part IV of my little series in real time instead of altering history and pretending I'm actually finishing these on the dates they're posted on. Self-deception. It's a bad habit. I think Lent is just the thing to help me get that monkey off my back.

See you on the 13th as I look down the rabbit hole...