Haitus Over

Everyone is the star of their own damn show.
Nobody thinks they are going to die.
If anything happens they’re gonna pull through
All those folks that die on the news, they’re just background.
The extras that make up the ambiance of living.

You know what’s worse than being canceled from your own life show?
Being forced to sit through your own reruns.
Ennui. Restlessness. Like you’ve become an extra in your own life.

I am restless and sad. Angry for no reason other than the fact that I’ve stopped moving forward.

It’s not that I don’t want to go anywhere.
It’s just that I don’t know which way to go.
Every direction, every possible turn of the plot has so many damn consequences.
They say that anything worth having is going to take hard work.

Well, keeping this show fresh is tough my friend. Real tough.
I want to feel my blood pumping. I want to hit my mark and remember my lines.
I want to hear the crowd laugh and know it’s not canned.

I feel this ache. This yearning for something more. I wish I could be so bold as to say it’s just beyond my reach. But that would be vain. And a lie. It would imply that I was actively reaching for something. But I’m not. The thing I’m yearning for is right the palm of my hands. I simply lack the will power - or maybe it’s discipline- to close my grip.

But I’m angry enough, just enough, just for right now, to let a little of that tension build to bend my knuckles just a bit.

My co-stars need a little push too. I know that. I want some character interaction. I want some conflict. I want a plot twist. Something big. A cliff-hanger at the end of the day that gets me up and ready to go the next morning.

Damn it’s hard. Scripts don’t write them selves you know. How do you recreate your character when the whole audience thinks they know you so well? How do you start over?

I’m tired of watching TV. Watching other lives being lived. Not even real ones. I don’t want to wake up one day and find that I never started living mine. How do those people do it? The tv stars and writers, the artists and intellectuals, the philosophers and the saints. Where do they find the time? Everybody gets the same 24 hours though don’t they? If I’ve learned nothing from Jack Bauer I’ve learned that.

I don’t know if I’ll get canceled before all the questions are answered or all my loose ends are tied up. Or if I’ll ever have spin off series or two… a girl and a boy would be nice but I’m not picky. But I’d like to make it to my series finale and maybe get an Emmy from God in the end. That would be nice. Or maybe I’ll leave some legacy behind something good for people to remember. Something to carry on… for syndication.