Adam Oster's Blog, page 8

Two Left and it’s not even Two’s-Day

As I write this, I’m sitting here with only two assignments left to complete. I do have another 4 assignments that I need to revise, but those really shouldn’t take any effort, but even counting those, I have 6 total assignments that I need to get done before I can consider myself complete with school. While there’s still a possibility that I’ll get stuff back, the reality is that I’m sitting here, with 39 days left until the end of the term, with a very real prospect of not having the daily effort for school by end of day tomorrow.

And that’s really exciting.

Or…at least it should be.

For some reason, the closer I get to the end of this whole process, the more it weighs on me. For the last two and a half years, I’ve been spending nearly every day doing some level of school work, and I’m finally at a point where that should not be a thing anymore, and I’m feeling the anxiety rise in me in ways it hasn’t before.

And I can’t exactly pinpoint why, although a recently resurfaced memory might be a pretty big indicator.

I’m constantly nervous that I’m somehow going to fail one of these last classes I have and then suddenly find myself in a place where I’m going to have to do a pile more work in an incredibly short amount of time. Considering my previous work, this should be a stupid thought, but, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Because this recently resurfaced memory comes from the first time I was in college, in which I was doing incredibly well, really trying in school for the first time, and I failed a class. Not because of my grades, but because the professor decided that I had been late to class too many times. There wasn’t a warning that this was coming, just suddenly I got my grade, was notified that I failed, and my world came crashing down. Although there were certainly a number of things that led to me dropping out of college the first time, this moment was definitely the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Because of this failed class, I would be required to take an entirely extra semester of college because of how they didn’t offer the class every semester. And then I would have to go through all the work yet again, just because of this professor’s tardy policy, which, although it wasn’t exactly outside of the rules for the school, was definitely a vindictive act against me, which can be noted due to the fact that there wasn’t a warning, just a failure.

Oh, and the class, I feel is important to note, was Children’s Literature. This requirement for my degree was in a subject that I hold near and dear to my heart, and the only reason I failed it is because it was an early morning class, I was working two jobs, and I just couldn’t quite make it to class in time every morning.

And so, I think that this little nugget sticks in the back of my mind as I get so close to finishing again. Because that one little thing was the point in which my whole life changed. I was over three years in to my program for Elementary Education, at an unaccredited school, and I dropped out because I simply couldn’t fathom the purpose this professor had for failing me for such an arbitrary reason for a class that I was acing and really putting the effort into. And because I dropped out, when I finally got back to trying to be in school, again, I had to start from the absolute beginning. Because while the school promised their credits would transfer to this other school, they didn’t.

And after trying to start over, I realized I simply didn’t have it in me to start from the beginning. To do it all over again. It would take me nearly 20 years before I would actually decide that I should complete this process I started back in 1999. And here I am, just a mere two assignments away (6, if you want to get technical), and I think this is all hanging over me like it can all somehow be torn away from me because of some professor’s stupid rules that he decided suddenly mattered.

Like one of the assignments I got back for revision where the professor is unhappy there weren’t any pictures in the document I created, because although there’s nothing in the assignment notes or the rubric about pictures, that’s what he wanted, giving me a failing grade for that assignment unless I correct it.

Because college isn’t always about learning how to do something, it’s about learning how to bite your tongue and bow to whatever whims a teacher is expecting of you that day. And I’m not exactly great at that.

But…today’s the day where I get through the rest of this work. Or at least most of it. And within a few weeks I’ll have all my grades back, I’ll have all the work done, and I will finally know that I don’t have to do this bs again. And I’m really trying to focus on that light at the end of the tunnel right now.

And it’s not that easy.

Valentime’s Day

Hey, look….it’s Valentine’s Day!

Don’t look too close at the history of this holiday, however, because, well, it doesn’t make that much sense.

I guess it makes a little bit of sense. Considering it started as a celebration of Spring, and now it’s a time in which couples use it as an excuse to role play as bunnies.

But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to talk about my own personal relationship with the holiday.

I remember being a kid, going to a school in which I had very few people I could consider friends, and having Valentine’s Day arrive. It was a big deal. We would all come in with these amazingly decorated boxes in which people were expected to put cards for each other into with cutesy little sayings on them and probably a piece of candy. I know this still happens to some extent in schools today, but it doesn’t feel nearly as integral as it did back then.

But for me, a loser in the school, I always remember feeling a little weird about the whole thing. Because I’d still get a box filled with valentines. I knew nobody really wanted to ‘Bee Mine’, but they’d still place a card and some candy into my admittedly not as well-designed box.

At first I think I took it to mean that maybe people didn’t dislike me as much as I thought, but it didn’t take long before I realized it was just part and parcel of the whole deal. Everyone got a valentine, regardless of their status in your friend circle.

As I got older, the date became less and less important. Sure, in high school, when I started dating, I would need to try and make something special happen on that day, which I generally failed at. I’d fail partially because of this deep down resentment for the fakeness of the holiday, but also because I’ve never been all that great at being romantic.

And then after high school, it all felt incredibly, I don’t know, unimportant.

When I started dating my wife, I definitely wanted to do things the right way. I liked this girl and wanted to impress upon her exactly how much I wanted her to ‘Bee Mine’. I remember spending a lot of money on a meal out for her, which ended up being a meal that would change our lives in a lot of ways, mostly because it changed our relationship with food from being important for survival, to being something we could truly enjoy. We’ve spent far too much money on food ever since.

But today, I’ve unfortunately gotten to the point where Valentine’s Day becomes more of an afterthought than anything else. It’s not that I don’t want to celebrate the love I have for my wife, it’s more that it’s a random day in the middle of a week that I need to make feel special while still ensuring we get through all of the other things necessary for the week. It feels like more of a distraction, I guess. Which makes me feel bad. For years I would try to make the day special. Even for the kids. And now, in part because of how absolutely busy I’ve been with school and everything else, I have this little note on my computer reminding me that I need to make something happen, and it all just falls to the last minute, not even getting that date figured out until it is absolutely too late to get a reservation at any place worth having a date at. This year it might be in the McDonalds parking lot.

But, I do want to take a moment to express just how much I do love my forever valentine. While I may not have gone out of my way nearly as much as I would have liked to this year, I still have you in my thoughts all the time. And I’m really excited about being done with this school stuff so I can find more mental energy to dote on you again.

Maybe I should start planning for next year’s February 14th now…

The Power of Art

For the past couple of years, I’ve been struggling with finding time to work on my artistic pursuits. For a while there I was actually able to dig in deep, getting back into playing music, drawing, and really trying to do some incredibly new things with writing. And then I started school, and I found those things having to fall by the wayside more and more until the recent months have found me having almost no time for creative outlets as I rush to the finish line for school.

And then, I found myself performing in a show that took all my mental energy. Putting my all into a character that, although in a lot of ways was like me, was far enough separated from me that I really felt as though I was drowning in creative energy.

I honestly believe that this is part of the reason I’ve been doing so well in rocking through these last few classes of school, because I’m still dripping wet with creativity.

But the further removed I get from that, and the more I’ve put into simply finishing school, meaning I’ve had almost no creative outlets since that last performance, the more I find my overall energy levels waning. Where even yesterday I felt as though I could conquer the world, I woke up this morning feeling absolutely drained and ready to throw in the towel.

I often overlook the power of creativity, even though I preach it to anyone who will listen. My kids, who are incredibly imaginative little monsters have heard me talk often about finding ways to use the creative side of their brains, even if it might take too much effort, simply because I believe that it is important for your mental health to keep it active in new and exciting ways. My eldest is currently writing her first book, having over 17,000 words written in her first draft and excitedly telling me about how the process is going and how happy she has been to just sit and write for hours on end.

On writing days, her attitude is amazing, especially considering the attitude of a 12-year-old that I get on the non-writing days.

So, I guess what I’m saying here is a two-fold message.

I really really wish I had more time right now for my creative pursuits and I’m incredibly excited about the idea that I’ll be done with school in the very near future (like, maybe in a week if I can manage to keep up the pace I’ve already set for myself) and finally having some free time to get creative (after a few extra long naps of course).Get your ass creating. It doesn’t have to be anything massively artistic. It could be anything from as detailed as writing a book to coloring in a coloring book. Something which allows you to make some decisions that ultimately don’t matter, but are entirely about your own expression. There’s a freedom in creation. It’s a time in which you literally control everything that happens (well, most of the time) and it doesn’t have to matter what the final outcome is. It’s just you being the most you you can be. And that’s incredibly healthy.

Also…did I mention how excited I am about finally being done with school yet?

Hitting the Wall

As you may be aware, I put it upon myself to finish college a lot earlier than originally expected. Like, six months earlier. And I’m super excited about it. So excited, in fact, that I decided that not only would I finish an additional four courses than I had expected to finish this term in a mere 52 days, but, well, I decided that wasn’t fast enough.

I’ve had this school stuff hanging over me for the past 2.5 years, and it has felt like every day has this aspect of weight that I just haven’t been able to shake. And that’s primarily due to my constant feeling of dread that I won’t be able to get a class done on time, or that I will get some terrible grade back and will have to make a last minute adjustment to an assignment, or some other ridiculous thing that really isn’t that much different from normal life, but for some reason school has made it that much worse.

And because of this 2.5 years of weight on my shoulders, I decided that I just wanted to get it done with. If I’m already planning on over-doing it for this term, why not go crazy and try to pour every last ounce of my energy into getting it done and just get it done already.

Yesterday marked the one week point from when these additional four courses opened up for me to start work on them. And as of yesterday, I only have 12 of the 30 assignments from these courses left. That’s right, I’ve done 18 assignments in 7 days, which equates to just about two and a half assignments a day. Adding on top of that the reading required for these classes and trying to cram it into the random free hours of the day means that I have really pushed myself as far as I can possibly go.

And here I am, looking at the very real possibility of being done with school in a week, which is seven and a half months sooner than I had expected to finish everything just a little over a week ago, and I am feeling as though I have hit that metaphorical wall marathon runners like to talk about.

I actually felt this way yesterday as well, but today it feels that much worse.

I’m tired, I’m overwhelmed, and I just don’t want to do it anymore.

And I could. I could take a break. Heck, I could take a whole week off from doing any assignments and still be way ahead of where I actually expected myself to be when I signed up for these additional four courses, and still be able to finish them with a month to spare in the term.

But then I remember this weight that has been weighing on me. This constant feeling of dread about having to get through yet more coursework. And I think about how I could just be done. In a matter of only a few days, I could be absolutely done.

And that is really all I want right now, is to be done.

So, I’m going to do it. I’m going to push through. I absolutely NEED to push through.

But I’m also going to need to schedule a week off from work afterward to just recover. Not just work. I’ll need to schedule a week off from life. That’s a thing, right?

On a brighter note, in the few hours of positive thinking I’ve been getting in between all this focus on school work, I’ve been getting really excited about some of the ideas for things I want to do next creatively. And if I can somehow manage this same level of energy I’ve been forcing into my homework for the past week when it comes to the creative stuff, it’s quite possible I might just have an explosion of output.

Or I’ll just be too tired to do anything anymore and will become one with the couch for the next 2.5 years.

One or the other…Both sound good right now. With the couch one winning out just a little bit more than the other one.

Okay, back to work. Twelve classes left…

Why’s Everything so Loud?

I decided a while back that I wanted to record audiobooks for each of my published titles. While it’s definitely in part because of the want to extend additional opportunities for readers to be able to appreciate my books in the ways that work best for them, as well as, I suppose, becoming a little more accessible for those who can’t see or read well, it’s also, in large part, because I like to challenge myself with new artforms.

And while I’ve always been a little self-conscious about my lisp, I’ve been told in the past that I have a good voice for recorded content, so, you know, why not try it out?

So, for Christmas I put a new microphone on my list, something that I’ve been guaranteed should do an amazing job of capturing my voice.

What I didn’t really think about needing to ask for is a full-fledged recording studio…probably with locked doors.

While I’ve been a bit busy since Christmas with a few different things and haven’t exactly had much time to sit back and test out this new tool, I have managed to weasel out a few moments here and there. And what I’ve learned is that there’s a lot of noise in my house, between the furnace, animals, computers, air purifiers, that weird dripping noise, cars driving past, the wind howling, the creaking of my chair, that beeping from something I still haven’t identified, and just my own dang breathing, not to mention the kids being home a lot over the past couple months.

I honestly don’t know how anyone can record anything, based on how much noise I’ve been picking up with this big blue recording device.

I’ve spent far more time trying to find places where I can best eliminate background noise than I’ve spent reading and recording. And I’m still not quite happy with it.

However, I have recently learned that some people record with heavy comforters over their heads, so I guess that will solve the issue of being cold when I have to turn off the furnace and space heater, right?

I’m actually pretty excited to get down to business with some reading, and I think I’ve mostly figured out my recording space, and am nearly to the point where I can stop breathing long enough to get out a few sentences, and, in the next 15 years, I should have a chapter recorded. So, get excited folks, because in 2057 I’ll have an audiobook available. Just in time to finally be released from the pandemic!

I Kinda Miss the Quarantine…

Editorial Comment: It should be pretty apparent that I originally wrote this before I ended up being exiled from my own home for three days. All the same, I’m not sure my feelings on most of this have changed all that much.

This past weekend was the opening for our show, you know, this weird little script I wrote called Lei’d to Rest – A Hula-dunit Murder Mystery. It’s a goofy comedy with very little substance to it, but lots of jokes and silliness all around.

But the point of this post isn’t to do more marketing for it. In fact, I’m not even sure that you’ll be able to buy tickets by the time this post actually makes it to print. (Editorial Comment: You won’t. This was originally scheduled to be posted the Thursday before our final performances, which was two weeks ago.)

The point of this post is to note exactly how exhausting the weekend of our opening was.

By Thursday night, the night before we opened, things were still pretty rough. It was decided that in order to try and make things a bit better, we would show up early to the theatre and run lines while we prepared for the show. This also meant that I had to rush out of work, get the kids prepared for me and the wife leaving for the night by 4:45, which also included ensuring they had food for the night (which, I’ll be honest, my wife did most of the heavy lifting on), and getting out the door to the theatre.

We did, we rehearsed, we got dressed, and we put on a helluva show. We got some not-great notes from the director, most of which I feel were unnecessary, and decided to go out for some drinks to celebrate the opening, which led to me not getting to sleep until 1am. I don’t intend to leave the wife out, she was asleep a little before that, just because she’s amazing at passing out hard and fast.

The wakeup call my kids provide started at 6am, leading to me finally getting out of bed around 8:30, which put us on a whirlwind tour of getting a whole bunch of Christmas presents finally returned, shopping for pants for all three of our children, who somehow have all run out of pants, eating some lunch, getting back to the house, shoveling the driveway, taking the son out to shovel out someone else’s driveway, sitting at home just long enough to thaw out, before talking the kids through their process for dinner and bedtime and heading back to the theatre, performing an even more amazing show, sitting at the theatre with the cast for a drink or two before heading home and working my overnight shift until 1:30, putting me to sleep around 2am.

Leading to the 6am wakeup call the following morning, which had me out of bed, again, around 8:30, quick breakfast before we realized that we needed to be out of the house by 10am in order to make it to the tubing hill on time so we could go tubing with the Cub Scouts, which finished at 2, which gave us just enough time to rush home, change clothes, prep the kids for yet another night without the parents, before we made it to our ax throwing league, getting us home around 8:30 that night, and finally asleep early by 11pm.

Luckily for me, I had Monday off, so although I was up by 6am that day as well, this time due to my actual alarm instead of the kids, I did get the opportunity to try to rest a bit…which was broken up by the horde of animals in my house trying to figure out why I wasn’t giving them attention, especially considering the lack of attention they had received over the past weekend of busy-ness.

So, needless to say, I’m writing this on Tuesday, which is basically my Monday for the week, and I’m wondering what the optics are on renting a hotel room just so I can get a nap for a few hours. (Editorial Comment: Um…yeah…)

Good things we get to do it all again this weekend

Well…not all of it. We don’t have the tubing, I guess. And everyone hopefully has enough pants now.

I hope.

But I know differently, because they were already talking about pants issues this morning.

It really feels like the days of being in a quarantine with an unknown ending were the good ol’ days now, doesn’t it?

Cats….Why’d it Have to Be Cats

A few weeks ago, while I was taking care of some, um, business in the bathroom, an adorable little mouse came running into the room, saw me, fell over himself as he tried to change his trajectory, and bolted back out of the room. Since that moment, my cats have been going nuts over trying to catch this little guy who has been hiding in my house from the severe cold outside.

This means that in the middle of the night, I’ve been awoken numerous times to the cats quite literally playing with this mouse as it runs around my bedroom trying to find a way away from the vicious killers. There was a day that it was hiding under the refrigerator and the cats refused to leave the kitchen for a twelve hour period. One even hid in the sink for a while, presumably hoping to fool the mouse into thinking it was okay to come out.

I’m pretty confident that most of the time this mouse has been alive in my house hasn’t been due to my cats’ inability to catch the dang thing (made all the more apparent by me being awoken one night to find one of them pushing it from paw to paw like some sort of weird game). No, they were playing with it. A new playmate had entered the house. And playtime always happened around 2am.

The cats, however, must have finally tired of their plaything, because as I was getting ready for the day this morning, I came across a tiny little corpse laid out on the carpet in front of my dresser, completely disemboweled.

Like, this was horror movie-style disembowelment. This little creature was stretched out over twice his actual length because of how the cats decided to put him on display.

My cats are sociopaths.

Which, I guess, is probably true of all cats, right?

But it’s definitely not the kind of scene I wanted to find as I was waking up this morning.

It makes me think the mouse trap would have been the humane option here, instead of that poor little mouse living out its last minutes running from room to room after he finds out that the phone call was coming from inside the house.

Poor little guy.

But, at least my sleep should be able to get back to normal, right? That doesn’t make ME the sociopath, does it?

30 Assignments and 52 Days Left

Before I disappeared off to a hotel for a few days, I had a number of articles all prepped to go. Things that, for the most part, didn’t exactly apply any longer. Like one where I talked about how I kinda missed the quarantine. Or about how loud things were. Suddenly, after spending a few days by myself, they felt, well…wrong.

Another article I had in the hopper was one complaining about school. It wasn’t much. Neither, do I expect, will this one be. But it was all about how the light at the end of the tunnel felt too far away and how I just wanted to be done and how I really really really didn’t see myself making it until the end of September before I was actually completed with school.

This one has become a bit outdated as well, as I just, right this very second, applied for graduation, which, barring any unforeseen incidents, will be happening at the end of March.

I’ve been kinda flying through my courses this month so far, and where as I generally get through three courses in a 3 month period, I got through three in a one month period. So, yesterday, I reached out to my advisor to add two of the four classes I had left to my term, and today, while looking through the expectations of these two classes, I found myself thinking this really stupid thought. Why not add all four?

And so, as of right now, I’ve signed up for four additional classes for this term, meaning I will have doubled my previous record of 3.5 courses in one term, and assuming I can actually manage that (which, I’m honestly feeling incredibly optimistic right now), I’ll be done a whole six months earlier than scheduled.

To be fair, I had never really intended to take those full six months, so it’ll only be three months sooner than I had personally planned.

I’m incredibly excited at the prospect of being so close to being done with school. Like…super excited.

But also, pretty darn nervous.

I have 52 days until I have to be done with all of these classes. 30 assignments to complete for these 4 classes in order to be done with them. And they’re all kinda hefty classes. Considering I typically only do school work on weekdays, I actually only have about 38 days left. Which means I have to complete approximately .57 assignments per day for the next two months. I’ve been averaging about 2 assignments per day for the past month, but those assignments were a bit easier. These are all pretty time consuming efforts.

I can do it, but I might be absolutely wrecked by the end of it.

Yet, if I do manage this, I’ll be done with school by April and these three-ish hours per day I’ve been spending for the past 2.5 years on trying to gain a piece of paper will suddenly be mine again.

And…I’m a little nervous that I won’t know what to do with myself.

But that’s Future-Adam’s problem. Today-Adam’s problem is trying to figure out how the heck I schedule out my coming months where I can actually complete this coursework without going legitimately insane…while also doing the work for three of these classes with the same professor without him getting annoyed with how much work I’m pushing out in a brief period of time.

Oh, the problems of a 40-year old college kid!

But, I did apply for graduation today. So, that’s something, right?

Also…why do I have to pay to graduation? How is that $40 not included in the price of tuition? That’s like an amusement park charging you to be able to exit the park, isn’t it? I suppose the difference here is that people are typically excited about leaving school, not as much about leaving an amusement park.

Returned From Exile

At the time of writing this, I’ve been back from my wife-imposed exile for a few days. And it’s been a really weird period in my life. In case you don’t have the back story, my wife tested positive for COVID a few days before we were to perform in this little murder mystery thing I wrote. She and another one of our cast members, actually. And so, because I was playing the character who basically ran the show, we were all a little concerned with the idea that I might also come down with the plague, and my wife and I made the hard decision for me to hide out in a hotel for a few days, until the performances were done.

For 72 hours.

If you’ve read recent posts, you’ll know that I found myself in this incredibly weird headspace where I really didn’t know what to do with myself, feeling helpless that my wife was at home with the kids, who as of that point only one of which had been exhibiting any symptoms. While I am all for the concept of the show going on, I also didn’t like feeling like I was abandoning my wife while she was struggling to even get out of bed, much less be able to attend to the needs of our children.

I’m still not sure I made the right decision on that one.

But I’ve been home for a few days now, and, well, things feel almost normal. Almost like no one was ever sick or exiled from the house or anything. Outside of all of us feeling a little extra snuggly, and the one kid who tested positive being stuck at home for the week, things almost feel back to normal.

Which, in some ways is good, but in other ways, it makes it almost feel like the 72 hours in which I was struggling to do anything at all because I kept feeling like I should be present while my wife worked through her illness was all for nothing.

Like, I probably should have used that time to get some homework and writing done instead of pacing my hotel room floor wondering how much of a jerk I’d be if I just went back home and got sick.

Which, I should also note, I’ve abandoned all safety procedures for myself now that I’m back home and I’m still not exhibiting any symptoms and tested negative just a couple days ago. That’s not to say I won’t suddenly wake up with all of the COVID, but so far it seems like those 72 hours away were probably an entire waste of time and money.

But, what are you going to do? I obviously can’t go back in time. And I still feel really bad for my wife having to deal with those 72 hours alone. And now I’m playing catchup on the things I didn’t get done while I was stuck alone in that hotel room with all of the free time. Like school work.

Oh well…at least I’m out of exile. I really missed these obnoxiously loud faces.

Just don’t tell them that…

We Don’t Talk about Rodney

Over the course of the last year (mostly focused during last summer and fall) I wrote a silly little script for a dinner theater murder mystery show called Lei’d to Rest: A Hula-dunit Murder Mystery, which, as you’re probably aware, we just wrapped up production on. It was fun. While I get a little anxious about anything I write, and even more anxious about anything I perform in, meaning that this was bound to involve me being a mess of nerves, it was incredibly exciting to watch an audience react live to not only something I’ve written, but something I am performing in, and have such an obviously great time with it.

But that’s actually not what I’m here to talk about. I’m here to talk about Rodney.

Who’s Rodney? Well, he’s a character I wrote for this show.

The writing process for these murder mysteries tends to be a bit different than most of my other writing, because it works a bit in reverse. You see, last spring, I got a message from the executive director of the theatre asking me if I was willing to write another script. To which I said, sure. And his response was, cool, can you give me a title in a month so I can get it on the list.

So, I made a title.

And then I started piddling away at the idea of the script, knowing nothing more at this point than it would be a murder at a luau, and that we had a title. Not that long after I had started, I got a message saying that he needed a synopsis for the show so it could get put into the season brochure. While I had loosely developed some concepts, I didn’t have that much to go on, so I quickly roughed out a basic idea of where the show would go and shipped off a little synopsis.

Which means at this point, I had a title and a synopsis, and a few character names to fill the synopsis with. And I now had to fill in the rest.

While I’m not going to pretend the writing for this type of show is anything special, because it’s primarily coming up with a bunch of jokes and then trying to find some way to weave the jokes together into a loose plot, this is such a weird place for me to start. It also means that I find myself having such a loose connection with the script after I’ve finished writing it. It’s not something I pour nearly as much effort into as my books, it’s just a goofy thing I try to piece together in my off hours and hope comes out remotely amusing.

This also means that I don’t really get to know the characters all that well, which is kind of a big deal for me, because I believe one of my strongest assets as a write is my characterizations. Where I normally like to develop these multi-faceted fictional humans who have emotions and motivations, here I create very little more than cartoon characters who simply need to have enough reason to make the jokes I write for them.

So, when I was cast as Rodney (not my own decision, because I definitely wouldn’t choose a character who talks as much as Rodney does for myself), all I really knew about him from my position as writer, was that he was hyper obnoxious, because that was his entire purpose for existing.

However, over the past two months, as I had to actually become Rodney, I became more and more familiar with this character I had barely developed in the writing, and, well, I realized that Rodney is almost exactly who I wish I were as a person.

While he doesn’t pay the most attention to his wife (something which felt a little too close to home as I spent the past week in a hotel avoiding my sick wife while she stayed at home with the kids so I could finish our performances) and is quite possibly a murderer, he’s also this incredibly positive and confident human being that everyone loves. For real, he never once was voted as the murderer in the show because everyone loved him too much. I even had a couple of people after the show tell me how much they were in love with the character as a person.

I honestly felt amazing while I was Rodney. Here was this guy, wearing an absolutely embarrassing outfit, who would go from table to table, excited about everyone who had decided to come to the party. He was never embarrassed about the things he was excited about. He loved everyone and he loved everything. He was the most positive and confident person, and even if he was a little annoying, he didn’t care, and, from my experience this weekend, neither did anyone else. His excitement was infectious.

And coming out of playing Rodney, I found myself wanting to be that much more confident and positive of a person. I would finish a performance wanting to let everyone know how much I loved them.

It was a great feeling. Being Rodney made me feel better than I’ve felt in a long time.

But also, being Rodney is incredibly exhausting. I’m still tired two days later and could probably sleep for a week after jumping around and talking nonstop.

All the same, I think I’d rather find myself exhausted, but feeling that level of positivity, than being my normal tired and feeling like things are never going to be good. So, I’m setting myself up with a late New Year’s resolution.

I’m going to try to be more like Rodney.

Or at least, I’m going to try to allow myself to be a bit more confident. That would be nice, right?