When I lived in…
Lately, I have found myself telling a lot of stories about places I used to live. When I was in London I… When I was in Colorado I… When I was in Argentina…
I think that once upon a time in Colorado, someone said to me, “God Leah, did anything happen to you that wasn’t in Argentina?” He gently meant–SHUT UP AND TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE! YOU DON’T LIVE THERE ANYMORE! I don’t remember who said it. Shut up and start living this life, the one here. Stop living the old life, the one before this one. You live here now.
So why am I now constantly talking about my other lives? In other places? Do I feel stifled here? Do I feel that working 9-5, owning a condo, and living fairly drama-free is too boring? Talk about other places, other times when wild things happened. Okay, wild for me is ho hum for most other people, but give a girl a break, I’m cautious.
I don’t particularly want to talk about work. Nobody in my outside life knows any of the players, so why bring the gossip home? I’m certain that my friends, after I convert, will be done with their year of learning about judaism with me… What will I talk to people about?
If I’m done with past lives, talking about office politics to people who don’t care about my office, and the by-product conversations of conversion? That might mean, gasp, it is time to either a) start dating again or b) get back on stage.
The last few weeks I’ve seen a lot of improv and am feeling the pull to get back on stage. I don’t know if the pull is to do improv or stand-up, but it is there. Have I come full circle? Am I ready to do comedy as a 28 year old, condo-owner, well paid, reasonably out of debt, still single but drama free jew? Will it be better than when I was 25, fat, lonely, sad, bad debt soaring, barely making ends meet girl? Should I try improv at IO or Second City? Audition for something?
I just am feeling that familiar pull to be in the spotlight again. One person, one mike, one light. A room of comics and their friends? Cheap beer, second hand smoke, late nights, little sleep. New people, old people. Same petty shit, new petty shit.
Or maybe I’ll just start dating.