1.neon pink panic

you don't have to take my word for it
but:

ever since i decided to commit my life to the theatrical art form, i've been existing in a constant state of panic.

on the interweb, panic is defined as "a sudden overwhelming fear, with or without cause, that produces hysterical or irrational behavior, and that often spreads quickly through a group of persons or animals" (dictionary.com). but my panic isn't the panic you may be thinking of. if the panic you're thinking of is the ohmygod-titanic-sinking kind, this isn't it. but i can't really define exactly what "it" is. bear with me.

i guess my panic is more accurately a type of urgency, a need to fulfill a desire and do it fast. the "fear" piece isn't a fear of what i'm doing, but rather of not doing it. and it is, at moments, overwhelming. but i don't often feel the sense that this panic is widespread. that is, i don't always sense it in those around me. but maybe this panic isn't contagious. maybe it's innate and activated at some random moment in life.

so then i have to ask myself: who feels this panic? do business people feel this panic? do botanists feel it? or is this sensation something exclusive to the artistic community? does it click on, like a light switch, because of some outside stimulus, or does it tug at us from the moment we enter the world?

maybe it varies. for instance, i can pinpoint the exact moment in my life when i knew, deep, deep down, that theatre was my "purpose." it's probably the most cliche story i tell. i was a senior in high school, about to graduate with the hope of becoming a filmmaker. i had applied to all the big wig los angeles schools with this plan. but i was in my high school's production of "you can't take it with you," the last show of the season and my first since age 9. at the end of our opening night show, after having stepped out on stage for the first time, scared shitless, and bowing for curtain call - i knew. the light was blinding me, my palms were sweaty from holding my castmates' hands, and i was crying like i'd just won the nobel prize for literature. and right then, whether i realized it or not at the time, my entire future was spread out before me.

does every artist experience a distinct, life-altering moment like this? i'm not sure. but what i do know is that my life since then has been working in a frenzy to create and perform and live in theatre, and all this has awoken a sense of panic in me. i feel as though it's insatiable, that i'll be victim to it as long as i live. because as long as i live, i'll have this desire to create, to express. so this panic isn't like the panic that they give colors to like red and amber and yellow. it isn't a scary panic. i'd say this panic is a little more groovy than that. like, maybe a neon pink. neon pink is pretty groovy.

4.cupcakes

there was an ever-present
unconsious
awareness
of cupcakes.

we searched relentlessly for them
without really realizing it.

our unspoken quest was this:
to find the ::perfect red velvet cupcake::
(somewhere in manhattan)

it was a complex journey that consequently led us to many different sorts of cupcakes variable in size and flavor and sugary-colorful frosting. this was because ::red velvet cupcakes:: were more uncommon than we had presumed. for weeks we searched.

our hunger persisted.