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  • rileysoloner


I expectantly take a mental inventory at what I'm working on and how. My heart rate kicks up. Where's the show, the sketch, the act, the bit, the character, the class, the course, the team, the script, the film, the dance, the this, the this. Maybe someday I'll feel like I'm doing enough, or like I'm moving in the right direction at the right pace.

Calm down. Water the plant.

When I allow some kindness or compassion to enter the interrogation room, I can acknowledge my strides in gradually getting more comfortable. I'm owning and sharing my interests and how that forms a story I've been happy to share. I can see the shape of my days. I'm writing and posting publicly, even if most days I don't know what to write about. I see the shape of my week. I connected with friends about this stuff on Monday. I met some strangers on Tuesday and we chatted for an hour. This morning I was invited to do an upcoming show. This afternoon I had class. Tonight I'll see a show. I'm broadcasting a signal. It may be more scrambled than I'd like. It's not as strong as it'll grow to be. But I'm doing it, and I'm learning from times in the past when I've strayed, shied or dropped out. I have a greater understanding over process, my impatience, my need for patience and trust.

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