While I was speaking with my 19-year-old half-sister recently, she mentioned that she'd realized that in 11 years, she'd be 30. And not to minimize the importance of that first "hey, I'm actually going to AGE!" realization that comes with the end of your teenage years, but cry me a freaking river, because tomorrow I will be 38 years old.
I've moved twice in the last two years: once from Florida to Manhattan after the 2005 hurricane season, and more recently to Boston from New York. I always thought NY would be a haven, a collective of similar spirits. It's a magnificent city, but it's just not me: too big, too focused on ambition, too fast. So I moved to Boston in the hopes that I would find more of a home here.
I moved here on March 24th, and so far it's working out very well. I have regular work through a temp agency, which was always a chore in NY; I live in a big room on the highest floor of a three-story Victorian house, which is very well-kept and lovely, and has a great view of the Boston skyline; I live with roommates who are thoughtful, outgoing, kind and very low-maintenance.
And yet I keep having trouble sleeping, which is new. I wake up at two or three in the morning and can't get back to sleep for hours. I wake up exhausted when the dawn is crashing into my room and drink three or four cups of coffee to get started.
I feel free, and I've wanted to feel that way for a long time, but I also feel untethered, and want to find my ground. So I've started making calls to improv groups to see if & when they're holding auditions, and talking to my roommate Christine about singing with her at one of her church groups. I think that will help.
In the meantime, I've got Friday Night Lights on my birthday, and my roommates and I are ordering thai food and they're getting me a cake. :)
Which is pretty damn nice.
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