First Foray

I have on occasion wanted more... No, wait, that's an Into the Woods line. I've gotta stop applying that play to everything. Anyway, starting again...

I have on occasion thought about starting a blog. Many of my friends have blogs, and I certainly have read my fair share. Each time I thought about it, I found myself wondering what I had to write about that people would want to read.  (And I realize I'm far from the first person to have that thought.)  Before today, that train of thought always pulled into "maybe some other time" station and then finished up at the "I'm too busy" terminal.

Today, I found myself reflecting on my experience this past weekend with a community theater production of Into the Woods (hence the predilection to apply snippets of the play to real life).  I got back on the stage this past summer with ACT Andover in the hopes of being able to land a part in this play, and I was successful.  I had an absolute blast playing the part of Cinderella's Prince, and I was continually amazed by the passion and dedication I saw all around me as the production came to life.  People worked their butts off and gave it their all, even, in one case, in the face of great personal tragedy. The audiences raved about the shows, and the entire thing became an experience I will remember for the rest of my life.

In the aftermath of the show, I felt the emotional downer I remembered from high school productions, but this was much more powerful and pervasive. I still haven't shaken it. Thinking about the weekend and the way I have felt in the couple of days since the show, I realized that the experience had re-awakened in me something that has been dormant for a long time.

I used to be much more artistically creative, but I've been coasting for years, safe and content in my professional career as a software engineer. Safe and content, yes, but not fulfilled. Not really. That realization led directly to my decision to start this blog -- the title is what I would like to be. A man of more words, be they spoken or written, acted or sung.

Will other people want to read this? I don't think it matters. They say that true writers would write even if no one ever read their words, so that's good enough for me. Writing is for the writer, and reading is for someone else. Will I keep up with this? Only time will tell, but it feels like the right time at last.