a required taste for the pretentious as all get out





leaving something better than when you found it
February 21, 2006, 9:44 pm

The sad reality of adulthood has hit me hard in the fact that:

a. I can never spend any money for fun. Ever. Again.
b. I will never make enough money to live.
c. I owe the government a shitload of money that I can't pay.

So to celebrate, I'm going to Green Bay to whoop and holler with the finest people on the planet, and have them buy me drinks to give to Mare. Oh yes, there will be dancing. Thumper has already suggested many elicit things for our two-person whirlpool bath and waterfall shower, and while I'm confident we'll accomplish those things in due time, I'm also keenly aware of seeing my old friends and meeting new people to dazzle with my karaoke skill (or mad karaoke skillz, as I should say). Thumper is excited, too, though despondent to leave his XBox 360 and Call of Duty 2 behind. I tried to tell him that there will be many other wonderful ways to scream obscenities in Wisconsin, but he seems dubious.

The fact that I've quit the Theatre program does not sit well with me; I was never one for secrets (my therapist says my "need to confess" is typical in people with OCD...that's also why I have the online diary, but that's another issue altogether). The kids don't know that I'm not coming back for drama next year, and I have rehearsed a million ways to tell them. The bottom line is, I can't really tell them that the reason I'm leaving is because that 80% of the productions I've directed in the past five years have nearly caused me to be a) institutionalized or b) borderline suicidal to the point where crashing my car into a telephone pole on my way to work seems a viable option for getting out of rehearsal. It is a shame; I LOVE these kids. Truly, madly, deeply LOVE THEM. From my fabulous gay boy to my Willard and my seniors...oh, the make my heart swell.

But I cannot keep at it for them; I can't. No matter how proud of them and myself I've become, and no matter how much I say after-the-fact, "Hey! It's not so bad!" I know it is. I was there when I didn't sleep for four days because of a wooden car; I was there when a run-in with a student and parent left me sobbing in the school psychologist's office for three hours. I was there when my Christmas was pretty much ruined, and I was there when my father had to come to pick me up at a gas station because I physically couldn't drive I was so anxious. It is the right decision, but the guilt I feel cannot be right.

For the first time, I feel like a quitter; even though I've succeeded in so much with this thing, I feel like I've failed because I couldn't stick it out.

Bah. They're lucky they had me. Seriously. I know that, but I feel bad to leave what I've built so much up to chance. At least I can feel better knowing that I left something way better than how I found it...okay, so I left the office a mess, but everything else? Awesome.

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