Day 222: Because We Can

I spent most of yesterday jumping out of my skin. I was working on the last module of the Depression Project and, being creatively tapped out, every sentence was like giving birth. I drank three giant cups of tea. I danced it the f*ck out. I made strange grunting noises in some misguided use of sound therapy.

But it wasn't the project making me antsy. It's my need to perform.

While in Paris, I had this idea to turn my stories into a performance of some kind: one woman show, storytelling, spoken word, something. And then I had the idea to turn it into a fundraising event: perform it, invite all of you, charge you money, feed you booze.

And then I freaked out.

Meanwhile, my need to perform has been sitting like a shaken-up pop can in my belly, waiting not-so-patiently for my attention.

And then yesterday, I visited a friend who has recently come out of the closet as a performer, too. And she says she's ALSO been waiting not-so-patiently for me to be finished this effing Depression Project.

"We're starting a theatre company," she says. "Just so you know." I stared at her. And laughed.

Because, come on. Like. You can't just START a THEATRE COMPANY.

*Snort*

Can you?

And then I visited with another friend and we went for a walk – my anti-skin-jumping solution. While we're walking she tells me she's finally admitted SHE'S a performer.

WTF.

And suddenly, these words come FLYING out of my mouth: "We're starting a theatre company."

I screamed a little and stopped walking.

And the words just hung there in the air. We both looked at them. The words didn't explode or catch fire or turn into murderous lightning bolts of nuclear energy. They just sat there. Staring back at us. Blinking placidly.

Because...the thing is...we COULD.

And really. None of these 'outings' are surprising. Friend #1 worked in theatre in New Freaking YORK before bailing on the whole idea when she came back to Canada. And Friend #2 is so good at writing dialogue it freaks me out. She has this genius play gathering dust in a drawer. And then there's me.

We kept walking and the words tagged along behind us like little balloons on little strings.

We talked about all those thoughts that air-pop popcorned into our heads seconds after we realized we are performers:

"I can't be a performer. They don't make any money."

"Actors are so over-dramatic and annoying."

"I'm a morning person...I can't work nights."

"Performing's all about the ego anyway."

All those weird beliefs that keep us from being who we are. As if we have any choice about it. As if working NIGHTS even matters. As if we're going suddenly going to become ANNOYING over night. We laughed our heads off and kept walking.

And those words? They're still with us. Little balloons on little strings. Our first meeting is next week.