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Tuesday, November 16, 2010


My life seems to be piles of things lately. Piles of laundry. Piles of lists: to do lists, long overdue phone call lists, things I should research lists. Piles of scripts. Piles of friends I haven't seen. Piles of shifts I don't want to work. Piles of workouts that haven't been completed. Piles and piles and piles. And the piles never seem to get smaller.

And the piles of stuff turns into piles of stress. The stress turns into piles of a emotions that I hate feeling - tears that aren't worth it. Conversations that worry my parents. Late night ice cream with the roommates (a pile that I'm actually pretty okay with).

The more times I type it out the more I think to myself, "Piles is a funny word." And so I laugh at the word. And I think to myself. They are just piles. The laundry will get squeezed in. (The lack of a pile of underwear will make that happen.) I'll find time to memorize the lines. I'll cross "go to the bank" off my list. I might have to sacrifice a clean room for a bit and I might have to sacrifice making my breakfast for a Dunkin' coffee in order to get a few extra minutes of sleep. But I'll get it done. And the piles, will be just that. Stuff. In my life.

I'm stopping thinking about the piles. They'll probably get bigger before the end of the week but if I stack all of the piles together: family, friends, rehearsals, work, I'll have a pile of life. And I'm supposed to be enjoying life. So today, I embrace the piles*. And push onward.

*If anyone wants to do my laundry though. I'm cool with that.


  1. The best $35 I ever spent was during tech week senior year of college on dropping my laundry off at a laundromat and picking it up all clean and folded. And then that's a pile to cross off the list.

  2. Huh. Cheesecake Factory laundry: check.

  3. How about the piles of unread StageSource emails building in my Inbox? Does anyone else ever feel like they are an insurmountable task, some days? God love them, I know it's one of the greatest assets of my career, but if I have to sift through one more remote, unpaid, basement-produced audition for an Andrew Lloyd Webber Musical in Waxahachet, or God knows where, I might just keel over.