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7/23/06

Dear Kim:

This post hysterectomy stuff is strange business. I am having more swings—of moods that is—than a monkey in a tree.

Yesterday was uber productive. Perhaps too productive. I got an allergy shot then zoomed downtown for a meeting with the St. Louis Federal Executive Board to discuss a script they commissioned us to do about sexual orientation and homophobia in the workplace.

That went well. They liked the script. Yea!

From there,I sat in on the Missouri Arts Council Theatre Review Panel where I performed the hard task of listening really carefully and not saying anything to people from around the state make decisions about our funding levels. We are not allowed to say anything. It is tough when you listen to people you think are ill informed. Who think that any theatre that does not confirm to the regional theatre model is therapy and not art.

(Kim: I have been in the same situation of listening to and reading lots of stuff with which I disagree. Holding my tongue has become a common practice. Sometimes it is very frustrating.)

I was annoyed but mostly ok with all of this. Or so I thought. After years of listening to ignorant comments by panelists, I have learned to try to keep my cool. Internally and externally. After all this time, I have been able to detach. I was cordial and even felt warmly towards the MAC staff who have such a tough time navigating all of the bureaucracy.

I was pleased with how the day had gone. It seemed productive. Adult productive. I had dressed up for the meetings so that also made it feel adult.

However, when I got home, I felt beyond exhaustion. Like I had given my all at the office and there was nothing left to give.

I sneaked under the covers and dozed. Periodically, I came out of a semi comatose state to think about food and how I should be eating some. Then I pulled the covers over my head. A little while later, I found myself weeping.

From what? Fatigue? Going back to work too soon? Or maybe just trying to do too much.

I felt like a baby who had gotten overly tired and was overly frustrated. And I wondered how I could assess what might be too much more quickly in the future. I don't do a good job of that a lot of the time. It is as if I am like a taxi cab driver whose meter is broken so he doesn't know how far he has gone.

Later,

Joan

Friday, May 19, 2006

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