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The Fruits of Regularity

December 18, 2014


I booked a trip to Paris today. Just like that. It started as a tickle of a thought two days ago after sifting through the music on my computer to see what I could jettison to free up more space when I saw the folder for “Learn French in 15 minutes.” Four years ago I tinkered with the idea after dating that freelance astrophysicist. He wasn’t French, and didn’t even speak the language. He just traveled everywhere to report on the current state of the cosmos, and Paris was something he’d mentioned multiple times. It’s not like there was any way we’d ever get close to going together, but I had romantic notions of renting a place and working on a new piece of writing. However, my plans fell apart after I whacked out the tendons in my left knee while attempting to dock his sailboat.

Anyway, there’s no way I could entertain that thought without the job I have now (or so my limited imagination tells me). I booked an apartment in the 8th arrondissement for a week. Put it in my credit card; it feels good when you know you can do that AND pay it off at the end of the month. Stuff like that makes the idea of being a performer seem pretty stupid. I don’t want to eat soggy pasta for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I don’t want to struggle trying to navigate the mess of ridiculous national healthcare plans. I like my killer (no pun intended) health insurance, dental plan, 401k and yearly bonus. Those material things–along with my cute rent stabilized apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn  — make my heart go pitter patter.

Can these two lives coexist? I mean, after all, why not just take the action and let go I the result. I’m reading my stories in public; writing prose and jokes pretty much every day and developing a community of writers and performers. Yes, I’m “getting out there” and into the middle of things, and yet it doesn’t feel like enough.

Does it really have to be all or nothing? Can I lose the drama and focus on working steadily toward my goal? Can I stop all of this negative self talk and just enjoy the ride?

It feels good to have a voice, to get it out, to have the positive feedback of a room full I laughter, to flush out my sewage.

So it is….so it goes….


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