The life I’ve fallen into over the past five years or so has been extremely temporary in nature. I trained for a temporary life in college (not by obliterating my short term memory with substances…) but what is theatre if not the most temporary and transient art form? That’s part of what makes theatre so fascinating, whether you’re one of the people creating it or watching it, you are experiencing something that is only in existence at the present moment. It can never be that again.
When I graduated, I essentially walked away from that lifestyle, I thought. (At least temporarily…oh the irony). I had worked in a few professional settings in the theatre, and they left me with a sour taste in my mouth. Part of this was the emphasis on the temporary. Much of the mindset seemed (to me, as a participant and observer) to be one where long-term consequences (or results) simply didn’t occur. We built, we created, we erected, we tore down, on a constant cycle. And we did that to people too.
In the past five years, I’ve changed location, apartments, friends, men, co-workers, and life philosophies more times than I care to count. That being said, it’s made me realize some really positive things too. I don’t have the same sour taste in my mouth anymore. I’ve become way more out-going and better at making friends than I used to be…which seems to me at this point to be an invaluable life skill, and maybe one that I wouldn’t have developed if I hadn’t thrown myself head first into new (and admittedly, stressful) situations over and over again.
This has put in a position where I am always missing a lot of people. It gets me down a bit sometimes, especially when I consider that I’m missing people whom I don’t even have a tangible friendship with anymore, but these people still matter to me. On the other hand, it’s made me realize that love (platonic or romantic) actually isn’t that unique or difficult to stumble upon. I used to think that since I had a few unfortunate occurrences with friends or men that perhaps there was something about me that caused this (and I’m sure sometimes it is ME), or perhaps that I simply wasn’t meant to have those types of things in my life.
I understand now that wherever I go I will always find dear friends, I will always find people who feel like family, and I’ll probably end up falling in love, willingly or unwillingly, wittingly or unwittingly. Thus is my nature. I want people in my life, I embrace them fully, I want them to be happy, and oftentimes I care about them more than is returned. But that doesn’t mean that I want to stop. I like extending that care toward others.
Part of me hates that I keep this lifestyle up. It’s really difficult. I mean, massively fucking difficult. For me. I’m insecure, I feel awkward in social situations, etc, etc. We all have a laundry list like that, don’t we? It’s difficult to start over. It’s difficult to jump in. And it’s equally difficult to jump back out. I’m going to cry for three hours straight on the bus to the airport. This life is almost masochistic. But I’m so glad that I get to live it, because the people I’ve met in the past year (and also in years prior) have made it entirely worthwhile.
I love them with the giddy abandon of a child; irresponsibly, embarrassingly, and (barring a deadpan look for comedic timing) smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt.
And that is one thing that is not transient.