When Complacency Rears it's Ugly Head

I'm on the plane to Chicago, talking to Shelia, before her second and third vodka tonic, about my reasons for this trip. I am going to a seminar at the Embassy Suites on Perianesthesia Nursing, my current work specialty. I explain-as quickly as I possibly can-about the extra certification I hold in the field and the hours of continuing education needed to maintain it. Thirty minutes later she says, "Sounds like that nursing is your main deal and theatre is your hobby." Ah, the words of wisdom from a lush.
I try to explain my way out of this label,"No, nursing is just the bread and butter, and I am just trying to get out of, blah, blah,blah" Yeah Heather, keep digging that hole.

So what or who am I? I know my purpose in a spiritual sense, I know why I am here on earth, but, looking back on the five years since graduating Theatre school, my actions in New York City would never lead someone to conclude that I am an actor. I've done one play, worked with an improv comedy group, and auditioned for a whopping four jobs. Of course light bulbs always flash in the brain while trapped in an aluminum tube seven miles high because your last thoughts as you plummet to earth in a fiery blaze should be about what you didn't do or what chances you didn't take.

I've taken more chances than I suppose I am alloted: skydiving, rock climbing, black diamond skiing, but have I ever devoted my life to my purported passion? I've risked bodily harm, but have I ever risked my emotional core. Nope, Nada, and Nil. During one semester in school, I quit my job and took financial aid to perform in two plays while carrying 20 hours of classes. That was safe devotion. New York City can beat the crap out you the same time it is ripping out your tender heart. So, why am I afraid? I love a good RUSH. This winter I went skiing more times than any other season and spent the rest of the time working. There was no time or money left for new headshots or dance classes. The surge I get from jumping out of a plane or slipping on a cliff two hundred feet high replaces what I am missing from pursing my true passion.

I've complained before about people seeking instant gratification at the exspense of the self and now I realize that's excatly what I've been doing. My job, compared to other nursing work I've done, is like a walk on fluffy clouds while wearing a halo. I love it and I make great money from it. Why would I want to be an extra on a movie set earning one-fourth my daily rate sitting around for the hope that I might be noticed. I decided to write my own stuff for me to perform at a grotty Manhattan pub, though I spend more time blogging and looking at pictures of good-looking men. Complacency has reared it's ugly head.

Complacency doesn't neccesarily have an ugly head nor is it a terrible place to live. It can be a happy zone, but soon the day to day bliss turns to yearning and I realize how I've wasted some precious time. I used to say that I had to grow into my look-I am not an ingenue; I used to say that I needed to lose weight-done that;I used to say I am not ready-never gonna happen. What the Fuck is wrong with me. It's time and I better act soon or I will be sitting in the rocking chair regretting a loveless and childless life. There is a reason I've made specific choices and I don't want to let them go in vain.

Okay so I'm going to get headshots and work on monolouges and take singing and dance lessons.
Can I take a nap first?

I knew there was a website for it. GO GOOGLE, GO

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