I had just started writing a blog post to catch up on everything that's happened in my life since December 12. Wow. 7 months is a long time and the words I was writing seemed really familiar. So I read my last few posts to see where I’d left off and realized that I was basically about to write the same damn thing:
I was tired
I was emotionally/mentally/creatively depleted
I was bloated and full of M&Ms
Yikes. So, I’ll skip all that and just start at the new stuff.
I went to India for a month over the winter holidays. It was beautiful and wild and welcoming and challenging.
Jodhpur, India. I used to dislike this picture because my eyebrows are so unkempt. Cut to 4 months in quarantine, I now look like Martin Scorsese and would kill for these beauties.
Too much to catch up on here, but if you want a little overview, check out the links above.
But the big thing that happened was that I decided to take my show to Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August.
EdFringe is the largest performing arts festival on the planet where performers from more countries than I can name take over the tiny hamlet of Edinburgh for a full month, jockeying to see and be seen.
I had been avoiding the idea of going to Edinburgh. I said it was because it was too much work, overwhelming, expensive. But really it was because I didn’t think my show was good enough. I didn’t think I was good enough. I mean, Fleabag got its start there.
That’s not intimidating. Not at all.
I came back from India revitalized. Once I realized that it was just my fear holding me back, I knew I needed to do it. I didn’t start planning until mid-January which is insanely late in the process. But by the end of February, it all seemed to be working out. My director was on board. I got help wading through some of the logistics. I found a venue and housing.
On March 13, I started working from home due to the pandemic, hopeful that this coronavirus thing would fizzle out and we’d be back to normal. Instead, the long hours I was already working at the Ad Agency became, somehow, even longer. I was on work calls all day and then catching up with people at night on FaceTime, Zoom, House Party, and Quiplash. I scrolled endlessly through social media. I ate like I was going to the chair. And, like everyone else in NYC, all my summer plans were eventually canceled: two weddings, a milestone Birthday party, and Edinburgh Fringe.
With Fringe no longer in sight, I was faced with the stark reality that this crazy work pace was likely to continue. The world outside was fucking dark and scary and seemed to be falling apart at the seams. I felt conflicted. On the one hand, lucky to have a job - some security. On the other hand, feeling like I was running out of good quality time in my life- is this how I want to spend it?
In other words: I quit my job (again).
I sprung myself at the end of May and, except for intermittent panic attacks about COVID-19, credit card debt, and my contributions to systemic racism, things are going great! After a couple of weeks, I started feeling like myself again. I read a WHOLE BOOK.
And my friends and I started a podcast!
CANOODLE launches this week, and it’s the one thing I’m genuinely excited about in my life right now. I’m learning something new, plus I get to watch movies and hang out with my best friends. DREAM JOB.*
I’m hopeful about the future again. I know it’s still real weird out there, but that’s OK. We’ll get through it.
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*More like an unpaid internship