Okay. I'm exaggerating. It weren't that bad. I swears.
2010 just started crappy, with my dad dying in January. Mind you, the old coot lived way longer than he should have. It's just, you know: He was my dad. Sure, he wasn't up for the "World's Greatest Dad" award. It's just, you know: He was my dad.
And then there's the fact that I was writing a play about my dad in his cooterage. A comedy. His dying went and put a damper on the play. The bastard. Can you believe he did that to me? Went and died while I was making his life make people laugh? (Please note: I am fully aware that I am sealing my own special place in hell by writing these words and those words.) In 2010, I've written all of one scene of that damned play. Okay, maybe two. But not much more. Since 2002, I've finished a play every other year. Until now. Because instead of writing, this year I've opted to watch the telly and play on the puter. 2010, the year of doing too much and doing nothing at all. (And whose fault is that, missy? You can't blame everything on the old coot. Did he put that remote in your hand? Make you obsessively update FaceBook? I don't think so. (Oh great. Now my mom is in my head. And I can't believe my mom called him the old coot! ))
Good things about 2010 (That's my mom talking again. She's making me find positive things): Doing too much, but the too much was so much fun:
- Oodles of improv, and even found an improv home. I've become addicted to musical improv. I'm about to sign up for class #3 of musical improv, which is followed by musical improv performance! I've never done anything in moderation.
- A new car. With money from my father. Thanks, Dad!
- A writing retreat (where I wrote the one (or two?) scenes of aforementioned not finished coot play.
- The husband got a teaching job in the crappiest job market for teachers since The Enlightenment. That's a bleeping miracle!
Note to future me: Put down the remote. Step away from the computer. Keep improvising. And write. You don't have to finish the dad play. Just write.