Little voices.

REUNION! REUNION! REUNION!

That's all I ever hear about these days is a freakin' REUNION!

I have these friends. And about a decade ago, we bonded in the heat of the Children's Theatre Wars of the late 90's. We were deep in the trenches; we were Porch People; We ate in vans, we danced in kitchens; we lived with people we liked and worked with people we loathed.

At least, I did.

Those other guys got the great casts. I got the people that made a week of listening to nails along a chalkboard seem like a vacation on some faraway tropical paradise. They got the creative, happy ones; I got the ones with the chip on their shoulders and the "I'm better than this" attitude.

I'm speaking of my second cast. My first cast was wonderful. Aaron and the crazy chick. But at least she was nice to look at.....as long as you didn't look her right in the eye, because that could spook her and make her...unpredictable.

But that SECOND cast. Boy, I still have nightmares; the most frequent one was the time they tried to KILL US by driving too fast on an icy patch of I-75. I swear I'm breaking out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.

And even when I got somebody out there to drive them home as I stayed and waited for the repairman in the cold rain, I NEVER heard so much as a "thank you."

But my friends.....you wouldn't have believed it: they had a pizza and a warm pair of socks waiting for me when I got home. Aaron came rolling in, and gave me a big hug. It was lovely....until I realized that I had to go out with those CRAZY ASS BITCHES AGAIN!

Forgive me. I usually don't denigrate women like that.
But it gives you and idea of how badly it sucked.

Bunnies.
Through a straw.
Ears first.

Eventually, one of them departed, and another one arrived. Not worse. Not better. And it was impossible to deal with them....they became, in my mind, cliche puppets: fresh faced college graduate who stood above in judgement of the material, and angry black woman who stood in judgement of everything. Not particularly interesting to work with. Half-assed at the best of times.

Lonely. Very. Very Lonely.
And I'll admit, some of that lonely I brought on myself. At the time, if I was not in a comfortable place artistically, then I was not in a comfortable place.

And I'll admit, it was hard to sleep with Jason in the next room. He was very loud, on all sorts of occasions.

Which didn't help the lonely.

So, the question of the reunion keeps coming up. And I continue to struggle with the problem of: How do I balance my desire to see my friends, and the absolute feeling of loathing I feel when faced with the prospect of seeing the others?

And since it's apparent that those people found me as hard to live with as I found THEM, why would anybody be interested in seeing me again, anyway?

I'm very confused by this.

And so, I'm not committing until I am NOT confused by this.

And just because I may not show up doesn't mean I love you any less; I would hope that went without saying. But I said it anyway.

So.
Get off my ass about it.