Writing the post “Overheard in My Brain,” while also being great fun to write, gave me an epiphany:
I need to be my own stage manager.
The stage manager has a cue-book, with the script, the blocking and all the sound and lighting cues. The stage manager makes sure that after the show every night, the props are set back up on their table, the laundry is set aside to be washed, and everything is at the ready for the show the next night. The next day, they will go through the checklist, and sweep even though they did both things the night before, but by and large, it’s all ready to go. The stars can just get into costume and makeup, get on stage, hit their marks and put on a show.
I like being the star, or at minimum the witty second-banana that gets all the laughs. But, my life, inexplicably I think, doesn’t come with a stage manager. So I need to set the stage for my own starring role. I can always hit my mark and find my light. I just need someone to mark the stage with that glow-in-the-dark tape. And, that someone is going to have to be me. Because this I know:
- If the coffee’s been pre-set to brew in the morning, I will get up to get it.
- If the Pilates bed is set up (yes, it’s called a bed even if you don’t sleep in it), and my workout clothes laid out, I will do my Pilates workout.
- If I’ve made the meal plan and bought the groceries (maybe even done a little prep work) I will eat healthfully.
But, if I leave it to that big lie: “I’ll do it in the morning.” I’m a lost soul. Instead of Patti LuPone in Gypsy on Broadway, I’m, at best, the crazy, 80-year old busquer who does (big quotes here) “kinesthetic sculptures” while wearing biking shorts and NOTHING ELSE, in which the elastic gave out in 2004, accompanied by some Indonesian percussion on his BoomBox that he taped while he backpacked through Asia in the 70’s. (Insert Homer Simpson shudder here.)
Uh uh. No way. Not me.
Baby, I’m going to make us a star!
Or maybe the witty second banana that gets all the laughs.