Hallelujah
We are all like icebergs, aren't we?
The part of us that rises above the surface, the part of us that everyone else can easily see is but a small tip of what lies beneath.
Some of us think of the hidden part of ourselves as the private, others as the keeper of our true selves. For some it is a refuge of secrets, delusions and lies, while for others its a well of inspiration, strength and, when necessary, refuge.
Few people try to understand the hidden parts of others, and most of us don't really and completely understand our own hidden parts, if we're really honest with ourselves.
So what the heck does this have to do with the never-ending roller-coaster of Grinder?
Well, for the sake of extending hackney-ed metaphors consider the hidden parts of me, you and everyone who has a stake in this company or has ever been invited to have a stake in this company as the rails of the roller-coaster, constantly being laid a split second before they are rushed over in a constantly changing, non-stop, never-repeating ride.
I write this because after 25 years I decided that keeping all of the hidden parts of myself hidden were doing me more harm than good, and as I now sit on the precipice of middle age I've seen some positive payoff from that decision. Sharing something, however small, of yourself, something you normally wouldn't, is cathartic. Yes, a release.
I didn't call this blog "Grinder's Grumblings" for the sake of cute-sy alliteration. As much as it is the megaphone through which I gleefully proclaim the ongoing triumphs of Grinder Productions it must be more than that. It must be a true reflection of the journey. As much as I cheer the highs I need to also acknowledge the lows, and release them.
Todays "lows" are nothing in particular - there are no crises that weren't there before, no earth-shattering news, not even much self-pity to wallow in (another thing that's rapidly drying up on the precipice of middle age). They aren't even all that specific, just the weight of a week of sleep-deprivation and rejected acting invitations turning a rainy Friday afternoon into Monday morning's blog post, a frantic attempt to work through bleary eyes and do something, anything, that could count as productive.
Yeah, I'm a little annoyed at all the people who've let me down and not responded to my offers to be in shows this summer - I will admit that. But annoyed enough to never want to hear from them again? - NO!
Sometimes the silence of unanswered emails is deafening. I don't know if everyone realizes that - good or bad, either is better than not knowing, both on the business level and on the personal level. Yes, rejection hurts, but I really do need to know one way or the other, or at least that you're still thinking it over.
Knowing means I can move on to the next iceberg, hoping and praying that what I see above the water is a true indication of what lies beneath.
There. Catharsis. Release. Hallelujah.
The part of us that rises above the surface, the part of us that everyone else can easily see is but a small tip of what lies beneath.
Some of us think of the hidden part of ourselves as the private, others as the keeper of our true selves. For some it is a refuge of secrets, delusions and lies, while for others its a well of inspiration, strength and, when necessary, refuge.
Few people try to understand the hidden parts of others, and most of us don't really and completely understand our own hidden parts, if we're really honest with ourselves.
So what the heck does this have to do with the never-ending roller-coaster of Grinder?
Well, for the sake of extending hackney-ed metaphors consider the hidden parts of me, you and everyone who has a stake in this company or has ever been invited to have a stake in this company as the rails of the roller-coaster, constantly being laid a split second before they are rushed over in a constantly changing, non-stop, never-repeating ride.
I write this because after 25 years I decided that keeping all of the hidden parts of myself hidden were doing me more harm than good, and as I now sit on the precipice of middle age I've seen some positive payoff from that decision. Sharing something, however small, of yourself, something you normally wouldn't, is cathartic. Yes, a release.
I didn't call this blog "Grinder's Grumblings" for the sake of cute-sy alliteration. As much as it is the megaphone through which I gleefully proclaim the ongoing triumphs of Grinder Productions it must be more than that. It must be a true reflection of the journey. As much as I cheer the highs I need to also acknowledge the lows, and release them.
Todays "lows" are nothing in particular - there are no crises that weren't there before, no earth-shattering news, not even much self-pity to wallow in (another thing that's rapidly drying up on the precipice of middle age). They aren't even all that specific, just the weight of a week of sleep-deprivation and rejected acting invitations turning a rainy Friday afternoon into Monday morning's blog post, a frantic attempt to work through bleary eyes and do something, anything, that could count as productive.
Yeah, I'm a little annoyed at all the people who've let me down and not responded to my offers to be in shows this summer - I will admit that. But annoyed enough to never want to hear from them again? - NO!
Sometimes the silence of unanswered emails is deafening. I don't know if everyone realizes that - good or bad, either is better than not knowing, both on the business level and on the personal level. Yes, rejection hurts, but I really do need to know one way or the other, or at least that you're still thinking it over.
Knowing means I can move on to the next iceberg, hoping and praying that what I see above the water is a true indication of what lies beneath.
There. Catharsis. Release. Hallelujah.
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