a long time ago

I've been thinking about the past.

In the typical melancholy way.

It's a perfectly reasonable trap to fall into.

My grandmother asked me the other day if I ever had any intention of returning to theatre.

I said no. Not because I haven't fantasized about what my life might look like if I hadn't quit, and not because its totally unreasonable to think I may one day return to the path of my former life, but because there is a little secret that I'm willing to share with anyone likely to ask.

As a father, a husband, a singer/songwriter, a coffee shop manager, I am a relatively decent man.

As an actor, I was a total shithead.

Now I'm not saying I am totally void of shithead behavior, lets face it. But that little demon is hard to feed when your green eyed angel says he's hungry and wants you to peel him a banana.

I also can't feel anything but grateful that I walked away when I did. Theatre is dead.

Not dying.

Tag on the toe dead.

Go ahead, argue with me.

and remember there are still bubbles from the titanic floating up to the surface.

So if I was such a schmuck, and it was a perfectly timed departure, why wax poetic? Why sadly ponder the past?

there are a number of reasons which I will boil down to just a few.

first, the look on my grandmother's face when I told her no. She seemed sad. Possibly disappointed. Maybe a little self righteous that I had made a mistake. That I might have been born on that stage and denying that is equivalent to denying life itself.

to which I can assuredly respond "Bubbles, grandma, bubbles"

Second is the feeling of regret. foolish things done. failures of courage. cruelties to our loved ones. and worse, time wasted.

That's a tough one to get past. Those are the things that stab us in our hearts in the dead of night. Those are the scars that never heal and aren't cool enough to show off while drinking with your friends in a boat that's way too small.

Regret messes with your head.

One of the things I love about this project is that Calvin exists in a world without baggage. He may be woken in the middle of the night by a furry blue monster coming out of his closet, but it'll be some time before his heart palpitates because of something he did a decade ago.

But lastly, (i think),

as i return to the stage in two days time, I wonder who I'll become.

There is every possibility in the world I may channel that pesky little narcissistic demon. But I'm not too worried about it.

I'm bigger, better and faster now.

Calvin steps into the room carrying the game "Life" that he found when digging through his brother's closet. It's obvious he has no idea what it is, but there are cars in the picture. So he dumps all the contents of the box on the living room floor.

Can you help me build this, daddy?

Maybe.

Maybe I can.