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This week, my Dad has been straightening something out with his Life Insurance policies and has had to email my brothers and I about it…and I just don’t like it! I don’t know about you, but my Daddy is going to live forever. See that’s me, in the corner, believing this.

Lately I’ve been pining for a Cause. Something that really boils my blood, fires me up. I really, REALLY admire people who are extremely passionate a cause or injustice. But said cause or injustice can’t really be randomly selected. You can’t quite just go grab one at Forever 21. I think it usually emerges in young adulthood because of things linked to your personal life, your family, the environment in which you grow up. I’ve had a great life. I hate that this weirdly pisses me off sometimes. Not that I’m DISpassionate, there are certainly things I care about – but the making of a good play – I wouldn’t exactly call this selfless activism or empathy. Or, in some way, is this my cause? Are we not meant to use our powers, whatever they are, and for good?

My new life chapter, post-job, has been about confronting my writerly weaknesses. Before, when I couldn’t figure a play out, I had a good excuse: ahhhhhh not enough time, must write super fast, must wake up, most go to work, must fix this scene in three seconds, sure it’s not truly ‘fixed’ but not enough time! Etc. But now that it’s just me myself and play – said excuse no longer floats. And this biggest epiphany I’ve had, in terms of where I fall short as a playwright: Conflict. When it comes to blow-outs – the climax in which people say what they mean and throw down with beautiful, poignant, intelligent words – intelligently articulating their needs and woes – No Can Do. And this is really frustrating. EQUALLY frustrating is how it’s directly linked to ME. As a human being. I hate conflict. I don’t know if I’ve ever yelled at anyone in my LIFE. Had a huge fight. I am observant, scared, passive aggressive at worst. Option one: write observant, passive aggressive people (hello, we do exist.) Option two: CONFRONT my writerly – and subsequently personal – Weakness. AND SO: WHO WANTS TO FIGHT?!!!! No. People don’t change, they just change their hair. I might just have to take some comfort in the fact that the way I write is somehow an extension of who I am – and therefore, truthful at least?

Each year, I get sun well, once a year, at this family reunion. I don’t AVOID sun by any means, I just don’t have tons of opportunities to lay around in a bathing suit, unlike my thoroughly browned cousins. AND SO, KNOWING the potential I have to tan (see: pictures of my Mom in her youth) I pretty much just put myself out there the whole first day, and return 7 hour later, smelling of bacon, pain. Sure I can’t sit, lie down, put on shoes or move, but my burn that will turn to tan? Extraordinary. (?) I’m stupid.

Ladies, hayyyyyyy, are you ‘with’ me, and things? Hair is always better at the beach. And then you have what we call ‘beach hair.’ And then you spend the rest of your life – when you SHOULD be you know, enriching your mind, doing meaningful things and helping others, trying to create said hair. Heh. WOMEN.

I have some bad news. Yesterday, tragically, my Ray Bans were stolen (after I stupidly left them outside.) I ask you: what is the real tragedy: the loss of said Ray Bans – or -  how much said loss, to me, REALLY feels like a tragic loss?

Please allow this picture, this ‘gif’?  to represent Clarity. Ahhhh, it is moving!! It moves!!!!

Okay so: I think that one of the biggest of the 11,000 things that are hard about playwriting is the delicate balance between clarity and subtlety.  An audience can get really frustrated when they don’t understand WHY they are watching the play, what the ‘point’ is. This requires clarity. But you can’t have your characters walking around quirkily stating your thesis. Believe me, I have tried. I tend to err on the side of non-clarity, especially in terms of emotional arcs of characters.  Because I think in real life, we never know that we are changing, being changed, when it is happening. People don’t change over night, it’s a slow burn or shift. And then years later, we remember it, analyze it, realize that that event was a trigger for things x y and z. But in a play: must you, for clarity’s sake, pretend that the character is nearly acting and reacting in hindsight, almost? In the way that they are able to articulate what is happening?

Well, humph. What do you know. That thing that i just said: it lacked clarity.

Things that I don’t like:

not sleeping on plane because of well, not being able to ever sleep on plane, and also large german people discussing some loud german thing the entire flight, and then $60 and hour long cab ride from JFK just TEN MILES AWAY. Also don’t like: being mentally slow and confused by everything, only having 24 hours to get ready for camp (seriously, twin linens, seriously?) also don’t like not having a printer that works, and not having brain power to elegantly phrase any of this, or post pictures from CA with smarmy sayings before or after.

THINGS THAT I DO LIKE:

Getting to be home for a minute, a greeting from the baby kitty, bday cards and presents from Kilbys and friends, banana bread, good news.

Okay, I am still trying to wrap my mind around this, but I’m going to get back from LA tuesday morning after not sleeping, then have two meetings and sit in on auditions then house manage a show, then the next morning 3 meetings then go to williamstown for 5 days then come back to NYC at night and the next day go to london for five days then come back for 2 days THEN go to poughkeepsie for 2 weeks then go to straight to family reunion for five days then come back for 2 days then go back to williamstown for a month.

First thought: yay / I am lucky. Second: what?!!! Third: underwear, and how it will be clean, and all of the things I am going to forget, and all of the dumb things I will probably say amidst this confusion.

Sooo since like last Wednesday I’ve had a crazy sockhead head cold and haven’t really been able to smell or taste anything. I haven’t been bloggy of this yet because I find chronic complainers of sick problems to be really. annoying. (I just complain to Steve and call my Mom from the medicine aisle instead. But complain to YOU? NEVER.) I get really, really frustrated when I don’t feel well, esp. when my brain isn’t working properly, and I’m just not myself. But THIS MORNING! I don’t know if it was the sudafed, the popsicles, the good nights sleep, or The Messenger – but this morning, I feel some clarity! How do I know?  I can taste the giant egg sandwich steve made, and smell the peaches we got yesterday from the farmer’s market. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if you could not smell or taste, ever at all. (You would be skinny, angry and dull.)