Posted April 30th, 2003 by Michelle

I’ve had a hard couple of days, and true to form, I haven’t written about it. I hate that about my writing- I am loathe to commit my current hardships to paper. I do it occasionally, and I think it can be really useful, and I kick myself when I wait to write until Problem A dissapears.

Today, however, was good fun. We did the reshoots for the Pink House, spending the day in Prospect Park. The gods blessed us with a beautiful day- so different than the sweltering-heat-turned-monsoon that hit us in North Carolina two summers ago. Today was in the 60s, breezy and sunny and gorgeous. Even better, I saw parts of the park that I miss when I take my bike on the loop.

Yesterday, however… yesterday I tried desperately to get my shift covered, since I just needed some time to myself, and no one would work for me, and I did my opening sidework in near tears. I had gone to a particularly (for me, at least) emotional yoga class early in the day, and it let loose a flood of feelings and sadness that I wasn’t prepared to deal with. I had to go straight to work after the class because we were holding a staff wine tasting, and I couldn’t begin to enjoy it. I begged the entire staff to work that night, and when no one would I had to truly stop and take control of myself. A mantra started in my head, one that either one or both of my parents gave me when I was young and didn’t want to practice the cello: “Life is about doing things that you don’t want to do.” I sure thought that was horseshit at the time, but really, it wasn’t, because I never got away with not practicing. (Although I have to admit to my father that I would wait until the hour of his morning shower and say I’d practice then, and then when I heard the water turn on in the master bedroom, I’d lay down my bow and stare off into space until the water shut off exactly ten minutes later. This was my first calculated rebellion, and at the time, it felt immensely powerful.)

Things are never as bad as you make them out to be, and last night was proof positive. As soon as service began, I was quiet and sad but fine, and by the end of the night, I felt myself, which might not have happened had I gone home and moped. The things making me sad are multifold but not beyond my control: my financial situation, my art situation, my love situation. All three seemed to be in major flux at the same time, and it was a little much to bear. Things do not seem so grim now.