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Caveat

Ha, so you had to know there would be some sort of follow-up here... Yesterday was workshop day, so I worked hard that morning on a new piece to read -- really an older piece, newly spit-shined. It's something I've returned to again and again, and so I'm dealing with several versions and trying to make sense of the mess. I also wrote a new bit that felt like it could open the whole thing up and long story short, successfully had something to read thanks to my new morning routine and isn't it so awesome, blah blah.


Here's what I forgot. This stuff is a little hard on you sometimes. I've been coasting on that high that having written provides, but I forgot about the low when what you wrote tears a little piece out of you and you have to walk around wounded all day. And that's basically what happened. I was a little moody grouch, sniffling at my desk on more than one occasion, and just generally blue in a way that is certainly familiar but (bright side) I hadn't seen in a while.


The piece is basically about how hard it is for me to ask for anything, and how hard wired that seems to be, and how much it hurts when even minimum needs aren't even considered, and so on. AND THEN THE LUNCH PLACE GOT MY SANDWICH WRONG. I've been plotting my revenge ever since.


In closing, when you have several different breads on offer, and you make a point of asking what bread a person wants on their sandwich, GIVE THEM THE BREAD THEY ASKED FOR.


Thanks for coming to my TED talk. :)


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