I've been in summer mode for the past few weeks. It stinks. I'm barely off of Christmas vacation, and already I'm waiting impatiently for summer. What's wrong with me? Well, the answer is simple: me. Me is wrong with me.
I'm such an over-organizer and a looker-ahead-er that, in order to get a head start, I began planning for a play that I wanted to direct this summer. Last year's was such a success that I couldn't wait to begin the next one. Well, this time I went a little over board, and, instead of arranging bits and pieces for the production, I went ahead and bought the book of plays, edited the script, and cast the characters. Now all we can do is wait till summer comes when we can start rehearsing.
I've never really been a patient person, but I really don't like the suspense to end. That is always half (if not 75%) of the experience. Now that all of the casting is done, there's no anticipation or anxiety. I suppose I'm happy about that last one, but I sorely miss the first.
I think I'll keep with the pattern, and begin this paragraph with some form of "I." But now that I've started it I can't think of anything to say...Now I do. I found a writing prompt that fits my play perfectly, so I shall leave you for now so as to give myself the opportunity to compose the article and be back soon(ish) to show you my masterpiece. Ta ta.
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