Well, at least there was some sun today. I walked to the library with one of the B's. I even sat in the library and read a book that I had on hold, Charles Murray's Coming Apart: The State of White America, 1960-2010. I left it the library. It wasn't that it wasn't interesting, but I am so down, so distracted that it just didn't seem worth checking out.
You see, I am thinking about leaving Brooklyn. Now that's a fairly shocking thought for me, and I very well might change my mind. Yet, I am giving it serious consideration. Something broke in me last week. I still can't say what it was with any certainty. What it felt like, feels like, is that I just can't do this entertainment business thing anymore. I might be done with making media. I might be done with the caring and carrying, the cooking up ideas, the enthusiasm, the attention, the all of it.
So, if I am a little off of my granola, that's why. Sure, the financial situation and issues around finding work is part of it. But it feels like more. I cannot remember a time since I got my first production job in 1985 that I wanted to be done with it. Maybe I am just grieving a life.
It's not as if I think life will be without stresses and strains and all, but I might be tired of trying this path.
I used to think that I needed to live in a metropolitan area for the culture, but now I am not so sure. Books and movies and DVDs and coffee and reasonable food are available in lots of places now. And it might be nice to live in a less expensive, less pressured place.
So if there is nothing here for a bit, if you don't hear from me, well, I'm likely wrestling with my angels again, looking for some comfort or a blessing or an internal voice that might make me feel right again.
I don't believe in happiness, or, at least, not as a constant state. But I don't believe that in this country and even in this time, that it has to be quite so painful. Maybe I'm wrong.