…You can’t even believe how long I’ve waited to utter that sentence.
Okay, so it’s only a letter (you can see me in the Feb. 1 table of contents here). But how great is that?! My comments are in regard to a recent profile of Whole Foods CEO John Mackey, who, among many other offensive statements, asserted that Americans essentially were getting cancer because of poor nutrition. We all know how I feel about THAT. So my letter asserts that John Mackey, essentially, is an idiot. Check it out if you can — the issue’s on newsstands now.
Have to say, one could get used to seeing one’s name among all these heavy hitters.
In other news, I am still virtually unemployed, save for a few scraps of hours the coffeeshop is tossing my way and another freelance project at Isthmus. But surprisingly, today, I don’t mind this at all. This could be a result of something my aunt Nancy wrote me a few days ago. She told me not to worry. She told me: “starting from newness is a rare gift.”
The first time I read this I wanted to toss this so-called present into the garbage in return for some – any – solid ground to stand on, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right. I can think of many times already in my life that I’ve wanted to scrap everything I had and start over again. The routine and stability I lack (well, crave) might be exactly what the person next to me dislikes. They might wish for my freedom, my flexibility, my chance to begin again.
The grass is always greener, right? I am the queen of wanting the opposite of what I have, wanting to be the opposite of who I am. Molly and I have talked a lot about the aging-wunderkind dilemma, in which the traditional gauges that we use to measure our progress vis-a-vis our peers — grades, diplomas, etc. — dwindle as we get older and people’s paths begin to vary. This makes it very confusing for people who are used to, and maybe a little addicted to, being ahead of the curve.
I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be able to completely get rid of that competitive drive and penchant for comparison, and I’m okay with that. Those things helped me survive (and occasionally thrive) during six months of brutal chemotherapy; because of them I never once wanted to give up. But, you know, I don’t want to spend my first months after conquering a life-threatening illness worrying about falling behind in the rat race. So I won’t.
The first weekend of Barefoot In The Park went swimmingly. Maren and I stage-managed the hell out of the show, pumped up the cast members during pre-performance notes, and enjoyed being the most stylish stage managers on record — here are the pics to prove it! I still maintain that I look like Bono with my very-very short hair and all-black, but Mom disagrees. You be the judge.
It has been ridiculously fun getting back involved with theater, something I abandoned when I got to the talent-riddled New York (inferiority complex) and decided I was too old for after college (superiority complex). I’ve rediscovered a joyful and long-dormant part of myself, and I’m so grateful for the chance. Again, I’m no sap about cancer, but this never would have happened if I hadn’t needed to move home and, well, start over. I might even audition for an on-stage role in the summer show!
“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.” — George Eliot