Disappointment
It didn’t come as a surprise really. The possibility popped up around Thanksgiving with the omicron variant. It baited me Christmas Eve, yes Christmas Eve of all times, and then the crashing reality occurred on New Year’s Eve. My show was canceled.
What a way to ring in 2022, but 2021’s decline was turning into a handbasket ride to hell. In some ways if disappointment is inevitable New Year’s Eve is full of the disappointment remedies like wine, food and the ultimate mood adjuster a generous dash of chocolate.
Let me clarify my show, The Biddy Contract set for its first public reading on January 8 was canceled due to COVID. For the second time! Although I wrote about it then (Living in a Canceled World) at the beginning of the lockdown, this time it feels different. This is certainly the setup for a rant about Covid vaccinations and masking wearing but I want to go deeper into my soul and the disappointment.
The playwright is the original job creator. This is not a political statement. It is God given fact, the opening verse of John’s gospel: In the beginning was the Word. The playwright job is the words. I faced the emptiness of the page and created work for seven people and they were getting paid. Unpaid art is another topic I’ve discussed before and most likely will discuss again.
Disappointment is feeling unhappy because of unfulfilled expectations. There is the never enough syndrome where the happiness marker keeps moving. There is also disappointment around unrealistic probabilities, otherwise known as dreaming. A mental picture is conjured up where the desired outcome is dependent of a variety of outside circumstances. Something like buying the boat and the plane with the proceeds of the winning lottery ticket.
This disappointment is real and worthy of some grief. The goal was set the planning and the practice was in place. It’s not unrealistic for a play like The Biddy Contract to have a reading with a live audience. It’s part of a normal process. It was external factor, the rise of the omicron variant of covid that was totally out of my control.
This disappointment isn’t a data point that I can use to strengthen future endeavors because I wasn’t misguided or wrong. Supporting that idea throws me into a righteous rage. To avoid striving for something better is counter intuitive when the circumstance is a worldwide pandemic.
Let the unvaccinated be damned!
I’m disappointed because I am fearless. I’m willing to face the blank page day after day. I’m willing to recognize that our lives and our world is messy. I’m willing wrestle with that notion and try to make some sense of it. I want to connect with others. I want to try out my ideas but I want to entertain. I want to share my view of our culture and our world just like the ancient Greek playwrighting and storytellers did thousands of years ago.
So, after righteous sulking for a few days, here I am moving on to the next project. I haven’t given up on The Biddy Contract. It will have a first reading in the spring.
I’m a writer so I will go back to my office. With the keyboard under my fingers I can create a blueprint for the world as I would like to see it because it always begins with the word.