Why my day sucked, when it really shouldn't have

It started out SUCH a good day.

Still glowing from a lovely date last night, I woke up smiling and happy. And then it all went to hell. Angry emails from exes and close friends do not a happy morning make.

But then it got better. Good rehearsal, some good emails. Talked to a couple good friends.

And then there was the fact Night of the Living Dead, which I opened tonight, was not ready AT ALL from the tech side. I got there early, and watched my interns being run ragged trying to get the set, sound and everything ready to go. They didn't, really. Couldn't. Lots of dropped cues, a few missing props, lots of confused looking interns. And it wasn't their fault - it was the failure of certain adults around them, who shall remain nameless. For now. I just want to protect the interns. How did I get to be a mothering hen to 14 teenagers? And what does that say about my masculinity?

But the end, the kicker, was the car. My lovely free car, donated by a lovely couple who I know through the theatre, which has served me well for these last three months, decided it had had enough. It's either the transmission or the cluch (please, please, please be the clutch!) according to people who seem to know such things. But I don't have a mechanic. Or a clue about cars. Or any friends to help, really, at least that I know of.

It happened, of course, in Beaverton. I think it sensed it was back home (whence it came from). It is now sitting in the parking lot of the Valley Theater, hoping it doesn't get towed before Monday, the earliest I'll have time to deal with it. Anyone know a good, trustworthy mechanic in Beaverton?

Why can't I deal with it til Monday? Well, that would be due to my i nsane schedule. Saturday, I teach from 10-1, have rehearsal for "Fourth Grade Nothing" from 2-5, final dress from 7-9, perform "Night of the Living Dead" at 10 and midnight, come home, sleep. Sunday I have first read of "Tales of Ordinary Madness" at 10, opening of "Fourth Grade Nothing" at 2, and move house in the evening.

And now I'm doing it all on the bus. Oh, joy.

Who said that being self-employed is easy?

But I'm mostly just annoyed because it all harshed my buzz from last night.

Grace

I find myself in a very pensive mood this evening.

I saw a play tonight. It was called "Grace" and by Craig Wright.

The play was essentially about a fundamentalist Christian couple (from Minnesota!)and the dissolution of their marriage and faith over the course of three months. She ends up falling in love with a neighbor, and while there is no evidence of a sexual relationship, we do see them kissing, and then she leaves her husband for him.

For those of you that know me fairly well, this is a shockingly similar story to my early 20s. I was a fundamentalist Christian from the time I was 16 until I was 23. My ex-wife fell in love with a friend of ours, and while there was no evidence of a sexual relationship, I know they did at the very least kiss, and exchange massive amounts of love e-letters (which is how I found out about the affair.) She didn't leave me, I kicked her out, but that's a small detail, really.

In the end, the real difference in the stories is the final reaction. Krista and I divorced, she married Dennis and is presumably living a happy life in LaCrosse, WI (where I left her). We have not spoken in nearly 10 years. I moved on to live in London, New York and now Portland. I've travelled the world, flown in an airplaine on 9/11/01, appeared off-Broadway, been promoted to head of Drama after one month at a comprehensive school in one of the worst schools in England, been the only goy in a Jewish improv company, become accepted by New York City public school kids, brought European Sumo Wrestlers to parties, performed at the Comedy Store in LA, nearly been raped by a naked woman in an apartment in Norway, toured Texas with a psychotic alcoholic hippie, kissed an Irishwoman, dated a Republican Politician, won a golden glove award playing first base on a semi-pro baseball team in London, fallen in love, had my heart broken, been roommates with John Monteverde, managed to land my dream job, experimented and adventured in 1,000 different ways and most importantly, I am generally happy.

The guy in the play? He shot his wife, her lover, himself, AND the exterminator for good measure. Dude. Life goes on.

I guess it's all in how you take it. Was I hurt? Yeah. Did I lose faith, not only in God, but in just about everything? Shit yeah. I felt like my life was "The Matrix" - everything I believed in was ripped away and there was a whole new world underneath.

Look back at that list. I would have done none of those things if I had stayed in that marriage. None of them. I doubt I would have done many of those things if I had remained a Christian. But I pressed on. I lived. And I've lived a better life than I would have lived if our marriage hadn't fallen apart. If I hadn't lost faith. If I hadn't lived through (very nearly) the plot of this play.

But it makes you think. Think about the old scars in your life. Some wounds never heal completely, but maybe that's ok.

And another thing that struck me. Watching the wife fall for the neighbor in a way that must have been so similar to what Krista went through. Watching her struggle. Maybe I understand a bit better what happened back then. Shit - we were just kids. 23. She was 22. (Dennis was 32. He should have known better. On some levels. What the hell.) I guess maybe I get it a bit better.

I'm tempted to write to Krista and thank her. And maybe apologize, too.