“The Floors of Silent Seas”
As I rode on my eleventh subway of the day last week, or perhaps it my third cab, it occurred to me that I had little comprehension of where I’d been or where I was going. My bag was strapped to my back, heavy with books, water, an umbrella, a mini dop kit, a shirt or two, maybe some socks, who knows, and I was going over some lines in my head for a rehearsal, or maybe I was humming a vocal exercise, no, I was making notes for a blog entry, anyway, I was hungry and couldn’t remember if I’d eaten, or how old that power bar in my bag was, or if the Q train stopped at 23rd St. This is typical.
I’m glad to be busy, but there’s a downside to all this activity, namely that you burn out quickly. I have never in my life wanted to do so much, and done so much, and I have never in my life been so tired to the bone. I’m going with the “sleep when you’re dead” philosophy, but it’s dawning on me that I could, in fact, be hastening my demise with too many 21 hour days and seven day weeks.
A couple of years ago I was standing curbside at an airport and a guy recognized me. It happens from time to time. We chatted for a second and he asked me if I was waiting for a limo. It took me a second to understand he wasn’t kidding. There’s an assumption amongst many that if you’ve appeared on television more than five times you must be rich and pampered, when nothing could be further from the truth.
I wouldn’t trade my life for anything, I am blessed, but it’s not always easy. Beyond the psychological taxation of rejection and disappointment and loneliness, there’s a physical toll being taken on my body this winter that I was not quite expecting. Between filming and classes and rehearsals and meetings and events and auditions and seeing theater, there are trains to take and blocks to walk into the wind. And every so often I want to crash. Hard.
Tomorrow it starts anew. There’s a lesson in here about pacing and self-care. I’m not sure what it is yet, but thankfully I’ll have some time on the 2/3 line to figure it out…
For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.