Tonight, I have an event in Los Angeles. I've tried to cut down on LA events. It's hard on me. The drive. My anxiety. My stress. Plus, it's the Sunday before Easter.
But, as much as it's hard, it's everything in some ways. I love the community of it. I even enjoy the nervous energy I get right before I go on. Then, once I'm up there, I lose myself on stage, or try to. I think I just adore that feeling of being someone else. At least for a moment.
And yes, I'm reading and performing memoir. So it's me. But it's me at a different time and place. Jenny is a character. Try as we might, we cannot really capture ourselves fully. She's who I remember myself as. She's a creation.
I'm morphing creatively I think. I want to do more. A play. Another book. A TV show.
But you're 53! Why can't you just be content, that's what I ask myself. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you want more and more? Why can't you just be satisfied with what you got? You have a lot. Yes, I tell myself I do, but I do want more. I know I can do more. And more and more.
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