Day Four - Back at Starbucks, post-COVID

I really thought I was going to get through this whole thing without getting COVID. My two year plan for surviving this pandemic was to stay isolated and not be afflicted, but it took a show with an international audience to hit me with the virus, and it really took me out for over a week before I started testing negative. Even now, a full month after the concert, my lungs aren't at 100%, but there's some relief that I got it and survived. The invisible stalker is at otherwise focused for a little bit. For sure, if I wasn't boosted, I would have written this from a hospital room. 

I don't want to jump into what exactly that experience was like, because there's not one uniform way that everyone goes through it. The symptoms, the severity, the perspective...it's different for everyone, which is a problem, of course, because the political approach to the existence of the disease and vaccinations has wielded generalization as a hammer and nail solution, and it's just not. I lost a lot of friends in 2020, and not because the virus got them. Misinformation did, and their Facebook pages became right wing, racist dumpster fires. Did I give some of them the benefit of the doubt and kept them as friends? Absolutely. I think some were surprised at how a simple sharing of a meme inspired extreme views that some of their friends expressed in the comment section. Clearly, some of them didn't know that "All Lives Matter" was not a statement about the sanctity and value of all life. 

But this isn't a blog about politics (and the previous paragraph isn't really about politics, either, it's about equality and social order). Today's thought, as I bounce between work on my day off, this blog, and coffee, is about perspective. It's something I'm chasing after and have been able to provide for artists. This is complicated, so bear with me. 

I've been thinking about numbers lately, trying to justify my conversations with artists and reminding myself that my experience is a valid base of knowledge to call from. What I know for sure is that I don't know many things. That much feels very familiar, a callback from the days when I felt like what I learned about acting and theater in college was both practical and useful. I didn't realize then that there are many schools of acting, and some are filled with gimmicks and tricks while others are founded on some sense of truth. After a significant amount of time with the offspring of Meisner training - "living truthfully under imagined circumstances" - I realize how much I don't buy the tricks or gimmicks in any form of performance art. They feel more than false; They feel dishonest, and yet, I remember vividly working on those tactics when working with actors on scenes and monologues as if I believed the outcome would somehow fit and feel good, maybe convincing the viewer that they're watching something nuanced and complex. I'm cringing right now thinking about working with actors on those exercises, and that feeling is what makes me second guess myself now, hopeful that I won't someday look at all of this stuff as complete nonsense. I'm not accounting for actual experience or any wisdom, and a part of me still feels like I'm just a kid figuring things out. 

The numbers in question are over 600 shows at my old stage, most of them with my emcee copy, run of show, and talent booking in place. Add to that performances in two restaurants, hand picked street performers, and then a whole decade of live theater before that, and you have well over 1,000 performances I've been attached to. I hate that I have to remind myself that along the way I've developed some actual, relevant knowledge to share, some perspective that's useful for others. I've sacrificed things that other people count on for survival so I could be out there, standing in front of a performer, studying an audience, or watching every performance of the same play for years. Sometimes I was the only audience. 

Through relentless trial and error - and yes, I've failed on the level that I was inconsolable afterwards - I think I've earned the right to speak on it. I still second guess myself and don't give myself credit for things I say that help others. 

This is definitely something I have to work on, but at the same time I don't want to lose it altogether because I feel like it focuses attention back on myself. I want the attention on the person I'm talking to, the artist I'm trying to help. This is harder to justify when I just came off a stage where I emceed an event in front of 2000 people. 

I'm getting hungry. Time for a little break from this Starbucks. Can I finish this up at home? I don't think this place needs a review in this entry, since this is where I last wrote from. Let's see what happens after I pack up and grab dinner on the way home. 

This is what I saw when pulling up in front of one of my favorite restaurants at 5:01pm

Of course, when I got home I changed into house cozies and immediately turned off my brain. But I came to work the next day and began a week that is slowly punishing me for taking time off. How am I ever going to catch up? Welcome back to that familiar place at this point in a summer series where you kind of just put your head down and grind until you're past the finish  line and it takes you a moment to realize that the race is done. Sometimes I feel like a boxer still throwing punches at the air after the final bell rings, but in so many ways, that's when the real work begins. If only I knew for sure I'd get to do it. 

I learned from my last job that there are no guarantees in life. I felt like my identity was inseparable from the stage and performance spaces there. Even though I could see the writing on the wall, it still stung when I was let go on my birthday in 2020, and I learned that nothing in life is guaranteed. Yes, I am an independent who has learned how to walk away from every situation, but I still look for and crave a rare showing of investment in me. I think that everyone craves that, but my past unfortunately has me believing that without a solid investment, I can only assume that my presence anywhere is temporary. I am interim at my current place, and this family atmosphere can just as easily send me looking from the outside in. And then I'd land somewhere else. 

I'm grateful for what I have, and these Mondays keep me focused on that two year plan, that promise to my dad to keep reassessing with an open mind and open heart. That's where things come back to perspective, and somehow that detachment once again has me firmly placed in the middle between forces of potential and creativity. I stand, somewhat neutral, hoping to make sure that everyone gets what they need (instead of, sometimes, what they want). It feels like an insatiable mission, but maybe, someday, if enough people tell me that the race is done I'll be able to look back and feel like I've done enough. 

Starbucks - a follow-up

I so often gravitate towards the people who work behind the counter much more so than any of the drinks they make, because the process is so focused on consistency and mass production. Give me a mom and pop shop anytime, but if you see me frequent a Starbucks, it's because of any combination of three things - the people, the stars, the outlets. All that being said, I had three drinks during this sesh: Dirty chai, flat white, and their new pineapple refresher (to go). It also feels like this particular Burbank spot changes every time I come in; Maybe it's just where I sit, but I can distinctly remember four very different experiences. How do the employees feel about there being another Starbucks five minutes away? I wonder about that all the time.