beginning to figure it out

So for the past month (as regular readers are well aware), I've been generally disillusioned with my job and the way I spend my time these days. It shows all over the place, from my lack of regard for my living space (my room is a hell hole at the moment) to my current physical condition, to just my general demeanor and attitude. I no longer carry the enjoyment or zeal for my work that I once did -- I don't feel as if I'm doing anything I can take great pride in, or get any kind of fulfillment from, which has now spilled over into my personal life. All this means, from the more zen point of view, that it's time to move on.

Would, were that an option. With the state of the economy and job availability such as it is these days, finding something that's just right is a daunting task. You may be hard pressed to find anyone who fits the bill of "jack of all trades, master of none" better than me. It makes me extremely useful and valuable as an employee once I'm in and going, but not at all marketable in the initial search. This has always been the case in both good times and bum times.

All this has led me to a great deal of introspection and reflection about what it really is that would make me feel like I was doing something worthwhile, that I could be really, really GOOD at. I've never felt at greater ease than I did when I was performing, and upon graduating high school I packed up and moved to NYC to pursue those aspirations. Life, as it so often does, got in the way, and despite some very encouraging auditions and a few workshops and readings along the way, after seven years I couldn't keep it going. I left, terribly disappointed that perhaps it just wasn't meant to be... and having absolutely no idea what I would do next.

But on the plus side, during my seven years, I was surrounded constantly by incredibly talented people who I came to know as my dear friends. They had the same struggles with occasionally more success... and the whole time I was there I couldn't understand how people who were so brilliantly talented (moreso than me in many cases) had just as much trouble maneuvering around the road blocks as I did.

Shortly after I moved to midtown Atlanta, I was exploring the neighborhood and found an old church building. It had been sitting vacant for years after the restaurant that had operated there in the 90s vacated. It was a beautiful building that had been masked by graffiti and disrepair, but gazing upon that church my head swirled with a million ideas on how to revitalize it and put it back to use. Last year, the building finally found a tenant in the form of a Presbyterian congregation, but I walk past it nearly every day and another detail of my idle daydream begins to fill in for The Cathedral Theatre. And every time I've looked at that building I've become more and more aware of what it is I'm meant to do.

I want to start and run that theatre company. I want the joy of giving my impossibly talented friends the opportunities that have eluded them thus far. I want the thrill of being able to explore new works, re-examine old works, and present it to the world at large. And just to placate my own ego...maybe a small vanity project or two along the way. The more I imagine of what's possible, the more excited I get. I'm not even doing it yet and I already feel that passion that's been missing for a while now. And realizing that maybe my first instinct wasn't so far off the mark after all is really quite gratifying. This is something that feeds off what I'm good at and is, in turn, good for me.

I don't have the slightest clue about where to start. But, for me, defining the idea is a huge first step.