Struggle Gets Busy

Oh, my dear darling readers, where does the time go?And why doesn't it take me with it? As August moves on at a pace a race car driver would envy, I find myself considering the nature of time. Time flies, time waits for no man, time is on my side, thyme is excellent in a marinade... it's all getting a bit convoluted for me. Maybe that's because I haven't been getting much sleep.

The trouble is that I've been a touch, well, busy. I've been very busy. I've been out of control busy and I don't know what to do about it. I can't even imagine what to do about it because I don't have the time to do so! It's such a quandry....And I can't possible think about stopping because then I will lose all focus....

People say you can sleep when you are dead. To be fair, such people are morbid and a touch crazy (and therefore have free reign to just come sit by me) But it's always been something I've taken to heart, and though it conflicts with my deep seated love of sleep. The truth is that I just can't imagine not be horrifically busy, although lately it seems to be catching up with me. Between my job, restraining myself from hitting people in the face, applying for other jobs, being rejected by other jobs (it's almost like there is a recession on or something!), restraining myself from laughing at people right in front of them, shaving my legs (sometimes I hate summer), stage managing a Fringe Festival show, and restraining myself from screaming in public, I just don't seem to have time to sit back, relax, enjoy my netflix cue and unwind. And because I don't fancy the concept of falling down and passing out in public (so hard to find a good fainting couch these days), I let my father convince me to take a day off and drive over to New Jersey for a day at the beach.

Okay, confession time. I've never (gasp) seen a single episode of the Jersey Shore. Not one. Not even once. In my defense, I was traveling during it's premiere season and so I missed all of the screen-printing and social vomiting delights I've heard ran rampant in favor of art, culture, and the joys of fried desserts (thank you, England!). And furthermore, I live in Struggle-fricking-delphia. I don't need to watch a television show about New Jersey. I can just GO to New Jersey and LIVE the madness of strange tattooed men with great abs and a wardrobe by Ed Hardy saying stupid things. And I can bring my father along with me.Those of you out there who live in other states? It's okay to be jealous.

So, woefully ignorant of bump its and spray tans, Padre Struggle and I packed our car, waved goodbye to our cats, and drove two hours to Island Beach State Park, which is, frankly, the nicest beach New Jersey has to offer. I don't care what you say or how much you love Sea Isle or Ventor or Cape May, this beach is nicer. It's clean. You can, on certain occasions, actually see the bottom of the ocean. Frankly, that's a Jersey Shore miracle! Moreover, it's generally free of trashiness and trash, and therefore is actually a pleasant place to spend the day, rather then a debilitating attack on your nerves and body (that's right, Atlantic City, I'm aiming that at you). The day was fair, the winds breezy, the water bracing, and our picnic lunch was sandy but satisfying. All in all, it was a delightful interval.

That is, until I returned home and had 25 messages and innumerable emails and a long rehearsal and more things to do then hours in the day. Oh well, I thought, I'd better buckle down and focus all over again...

Holy hell, I just met someone with those Japanese Anime character contact lenses. Wow. That just happened. And all of a sudden none of it matters. No matter how busy I am, that's something worth taking a break about.