It’s day five working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and I woke up this morning in THE BEST MOOD. I really don’t know what came over me, but I started dancing as soon as I got out of bed, then grooved and shimmied all the way into the kitchen. I even plugged my earphones into my phone and turned up Christopher Cross. It’s all right, I think we’re gonna make it. But then in an effort to spin while moving from the refrigerator to the counter behind me, I dropped an egg on our open dishwasher, and it splattered all over the clean dishes. WHOOPS!

Arriving at the Alma Performing Arts Center, I was THAT GUY–the one who’s smiling and bouncing up and down with joy for no apparent reason. I don’t know–maybe having a routine and working a job that I enjoy is doing me good. Who knows? This was at nine o’clock, and I normally don’t even crack a smile until after noon. But this really has been a wonderful week. I’ve even been looking forward to driving home late at night and seeing my parents. They’ve been feeding me dinner and helping me make sure my paint clothes are clean, ready to go for the next day. As I eat, we talk about our day and catch up on each other’s respective soap operas. I often make self-deprecating remarks about living with my parents, but I think that needs to stop, since I wouldn’t have these positive memories otherwise.

Currently I’m on lunch break, which is only thirty more minutes. (Since I have other business to attend to at dinner, I’m blogging now.) Hum. I might have to finish writing late tonight. We’ll see. Anyway, somewhere during the last four hours, my good mood from this morning seriously dissipated. In its place has come a lot of internal chatter, mumbo-jumbo, and bullshit, which I think has mostly to do with my feeling like a stranger here. To be clear–everyone I’ve encountered–the cast, crew, and volunteers–are kind, considerate, and professional. Still, I don’t really KNOW anyone. At lunch and dinner when everyone else goes off in pairs or groups, I eat alone–just me, an apple and some peanut butter, and my computer.

This isn’t the easiest thing to do, observing–but not participating with–others who are having a good time. Not that people don’t talk to me or include me in things. I’ve certainly had plenty of those moments. But being the new guy isn’t the same as being the old friend or the established relationship. I don’t blame anyone for this situation. I am, after all, temporary help, and it takes time to form bonds. It was set up to be this way, and it’s ALWAYS awkward trying to figure out where you fit in.

Because I think we all–fundamentally–want to fit in.

Sitting down to write helps. I’m glad I’m doing this now instead of later. Because I’m reminded that no matter what kind of day I’m having–one that soars or one that sinks–I always have myself to come back to. As of yesterday, I’ve been doing this blogging thing for 550 days in a row(!), so I have plenty of documented evidence to remind me that people are people (doing the best they can), circumstances change, and emotions cycle through like the seasons. It’s all right, I think we’re gonna make it. Through everything, my job is to take care of me. And I can. I can be gentle and work with whatever arises, whatever shows up to be my teacher today, whatever shows up to bring me back to myself.

[Today’s top photo is from The Wicked Witch’s Chamber. I helped paint it (the bottom part). In this scene, Dorothy asks The Wicked Witch, “How did you get so mean?” The Wicked Witch replies, “Lots and lots of practice.” I imagine this answer also applies to how one becomes kind or gentle with oneself or others. Lots and lots of practice.]