Tonight's Poet Corner: Introspection

It's been a weird month so far, folks, in an already crazy as fuck year. Besides the obvious reasons, I've had my own secluded bubble of confusions, second guesses, and ruminations. And of course, I'ma spill about them right here.

As you all know by now, my twin sister and I co-founded a still active digital theatre company back in March, and the number of amazing friends I've made through performances has been absolutely astonishing. Not only that, but I have been able to dive back into acting after over a decade of not being on some sort of "stage." It's been invigorating. It's been educational. It's been something that's helped me get through the week. And it's all thanks to the people I now consider close friends or even family (heck, I consider one of them a surrogate younger brother and another a "little sis from another miss." Those are the bonds I've forged).

Right now, there's even a possibility of this company becoming something so much bigger. Jocelyn and I never, ever expected the group to grow to almost two hundred members. A post-COVID physical theatre company? That would be amazing. A lofty goal, but a feasible one. One I never thought I could visualize in my life. To have theater again in my life like that - something accessible and new and focused on loved ones - that'd be divine.

There's just one major snag: Most of the members of the company reside on the east coast. I happen to be in California.

Buying a house.

Settling down.

I am a thirty-one-year-old who should be thinking about teacher tenure and starting a family. Instead, I'm thinking about this. My entire existence feels upended, even though I know that's a major exaggeration. And while I adore the life I've built, to have anything stripped from it is a frightening prospect.

I love where I live. My wife loves being here. Our families are here. But thanks to the Internet, I now have another world of opportunity and love to dabble in. And these two worlds I dwell in now are split by thousands of physical miles, obligations, finances, disease, and more. If this theatre company ever evolved, how could I ever continue to be a part of it? Would I simply go back to the way things were before COVID? No: I couldn't. That former life sans acting and performing like I have just isn't manageable to me emotionally anymore. I've sipped from a golden cup, and now, I'm terrified that I'll never get a taste of this bliss again.

Thursday evening was especially hard. I confided all of my feelings to my wife and admittedly shed a lot of tears. It's tough for Arden sometimes because she doesn't focus on the future as far as I do, and she had to remind me that so much of this is speculative. Would we ever move to the east coast? Most likely not, but who knows? I refuse to go anywhere without Arden. And Arden's the same way when it comes to me. Our marriage is strong and amazing and beautiful, and we're willing to go on new adventures. But we're getting this house, and while I know owning property isn't permanent, it strangely feels permanent.

Ultimately, two facts really dig into me: One, I have created a strong group of friends whom I can't truly have the strongest connection with because of distance. Two, I have created something beautiful that I may have to step away from in the future.

Both of these facts are heartbreaking. And I'm trying to navigate them as best as I can. I continue to write and teach and act because this goddamn plague isn't going anywhere any time soon. I know we will have the keys to a house next week. I just try to live day to day, as usual.

It's just tough, loves.

It's just so fucking tough.

To my newer friends and family: I love you. And I wish I weren't so far away.

Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.