I’VE BEEN LOW – PART 2

DIARY

Part of the recent discouragement is based on things I shouldn’t talk about,

given the number of people with access to this.

However, I can be candid about one major factor, and that is the failure of my

theater group, the Nocturnal.

Perhaps failure is too strong a work. I’ve started three theater groups in the

last decade, and they all ended up being “pet projects.” I always wanted to

expand them, to hand off control, to have to deal with the problem of choices

being made without my consent, and against my inclination. I wanted

these problems. The irony was that nobody else really cared.

I’m not ungrateful for the people involved… some of them were wonderful, and

some continue to help. But, in the end, what I got were college kids

interested in doing a play. Not someone interested in saving the world through

art, or more importantly, helping to maintain a grassroots theater group. A

few people did at least take that final step, but it was too little, from too

far, too late.

We began our most recent project, Chicago Project No. 2: The Cenci, at an

immediate disadvantage. Several actors who expressed an interest in getting

involved all chose not to. Several actors who did agree to get involved

withdrew. Finally, three weeks ago, on the heels of our first major retreat,

one actor dropped, and two announced their commitment must be scaled back. The

show could not go on. The choice was between cancelling the show and scaling

back the project. I chose the latter, but people were still disappointed.

I think the last time I had felt so depressed for so long was when my first

real girlfriend broke up with me in 11th grade. I have an apartment, have a

job, have supportive friends and family. But still! Everything had run off

track. The one thing that had maintained my faith that my dreams and

aspirations held, this theater group, the Nocturnal, was foundering already,

when it should be growing and filled with energy. I don’t know how to approach

this without sounding clichè… one the one hand, I felt physically sick, and

on the other, I didn’t even want to wake up in the morning. The weather seemed

like shit no matter how gorgeous it was, songs that had always moved me seemed

dull and dim, and for the first time since my conversion I had no interest in

attending church. The honeymoon was over. I was miserable.

Leave a Comment