Rigmarole, Fol de Rol and Outlets

You all know when I write it's more about me, right? It's, in fact, all about me. What I write says more about me and my current state of mind and soul than anything I'm commenting on.

Okay...I'm a hard-AsS.

My life is spent on the road. More often than not, half my year is spent away from my home and my loved ones. This, and the fact I'm a maniac, has killed many a relationship.

By nature of my business, I am told where I'll be living, if I'll have a bathtub, if I'll have a car, who I'll share the car with, when I go to the supermarket (sometimes), how much room I'll have in a fridge, and who will be my friends for the next couple of weeks or months. I now also have to put a security deposit on an apartment that I don't get to pick out.

I have no control over anything...other than how I react.

That's just the social/personal aspect of the whole kit and kaboodle. Sometimes where I'm living is gorgeous. Sometimes there's a bathtub. Sometimes I get to live in a city near a friend and her new family. Sometimes I love the people I'm working and driving with, Bitch.* This is one of those times. They are keepers, each and every one.

But this can get old. At least for me. I think a lot of it has to due with the fact I'm getting old. I LOVE to work, don't get me wrong. I fucking LOVE what I do. My time onstage gets me through a lot of la vida's shenanigans and I'm always grateful for the opportunity.

But change is hard. Especially when you're the type of person who cried when her parents changed the upholstery on the dining chairs. Don't you know, they saved a swatch of it for me.

They were wise.

I know I am responsible for 100% of my life. I'm even pretty sure I was responsible for the strange suckiness of tonight's audience. Honestly, I was the laugh vacuum...with great sucking power.

I am responsible for 100% of my life. I have invited all of this, shaken its hand and said, "Howdydo, partner."

Now...what to do with it?

Your feedback is always welcome. Especially when it results in an apology, and a reassessment (both situational and textual) from me.

See...it IS all about me. (Somewhere there is an emoticon for that, but hells if I know what/where it's at.*)

*Remember, never end a sentence with a preposition, Bitch.**

**That Bitch was for good measure.