Tell Me About It

It’s funny that Mr. Forty posted what he did.  I drifted off to sleep last night having similar thoughts, but in a markedly different way.  Which is the way things often are between the Mr. and me.  We have very similar feelings on things, but usually get there via profoundly different roads. I lay in bed last night, too goddamn tired to actually let this series of thoughts keep me awake, but significant enough that I told myself I would address my concerns in the morning. (That’s the kind of bargaining I have to do with myself in order to maintain sanity. I assure myself that my concerns are valid, but that I need to bring them up for consideration at a more appropriate time. Fortunately, I am very obedient to this voice, most of the time). I was thinking about it this morning as I dragged ass out of bed and forced myself  to wash (and blow dry) my hair.  I was thinking about it as I drove into work this morning. I was thinking about it as I made direct eye contact with my boss and tried to tease out what part of his brain thinks it is okay to stare at me blankly when I say, “It was in the one email I sent you – the one with the subject line, PLEASE READ THIS EMAIL.” (My boss, god bless him, does not read emails. It’s past being quirky and has now crossed into infuriating). What was I thinking? Oh, about how ultimately, I am much better suited to this new life than the Mr.  It’s not his fault or anything, it’s just, well, it’s different for me. Let me preface by saying there are a lot of people in this world who wander (and are not lost). These are the folks who go from job to job, or perhaps inversely, stay at the same job, in the same role, for decades. They aren’t particularly passionate about something and that either causes them a great deal of stress as they look for their “calling,” or they simply accept the fact that life is pretty good and Hey! It’s free scoop day at Baskin-Robbins! I am not one of those people. From the time I could have rational thought and have experiences that I would come to remember – I have wanted to be on a stage. I was the kid who truly shined in the school play, I was the child who wanted to act out stories, put together costumes out of mom’s old clothes, and attempt foreign dialects at a precocious age (my Irish dialect was perfected at age 7 after watching Darby O’Gill and the Little People over and over and over again). By 8 I convinced my parents this was all I would ever be good at. And looking at their checkbooks and seeing what it cost to watch me fail at ballet, piano, art, soccer, swimming, tennis and gymnastics, they sighed and agreed. By 9 I had my Screen Actors Guild card. By 14 I had several television credits to my name. By 20 I was, for all practical purposes, a commercial success. It was all I wanted to do. Granted I was fortunate that I was a really bright kid and I also really enjoyed learning, so my grades were good and there was no way I wasn’t going to college. Of course once I got there, I was cast in...