I am a procrastinator. Not because I’m lazy, but because I have exorbitant social anxiety. Is there a deadline? Okay. Can I do whatever it is that needs to be done without interacting with a single other human being in person or by phone? EXCELLENT. Whatever rare unicorn that task is, consider it done immediately, with time to spare for patting myself on the back.
Conversely–and most often–do I have to call a place about a thing I have to do and send money and/or keep my heart from exploding through my chest for the duration of that call? Oh. I need to show up in person to a place I’ve never been to see people I’ve never even heard of before and do…whatever it is that my life as an adult requires of me? Doctors? Accountants? Leasing offices? Banks? Um. Can you give me a little bit? Like a hundred years? (When I go on auditions, it takes most of my day to muster up the cojones I need to walk in that room of strangers. And performing is obviously something I love doing, so…)
I’ve talked about this before, and it may sound surprising since I’m not a shy person, but it has less to do with shyness and more to do with the weird dictations of my brain. I just don’t really know how to go about addressing it since I am too poor for therapy (and who says I am actually going to make that phone call anyway, HMMM?) and since I have just under two months left to more or less to indulge my anxiety before I have to MOVE all by myself and be responsible for every maddening, minute thing that entails, I feel like I’d better get on it.
My job has been a stepping stone for me in the phones department. I have taken it upon myself to cold-call people when it needs to be done and the world has not exploded. But that’s not for me. It’s not about me. It’s easy to hide behind the desk. The job is always something I can fall back on if something goes wrong. At home it’s harder, because there is only…me. And yes, I know that most people are nice and want to help in these situations and their attitudes have zero things to do with me beyond a professional interaction, but still. But still.
I’m writing about this again mostly to talk through it for myself and to try to be proactive to when the shit hits the fan in May and I have to pack up all my things, reserve a U-Haul, move to another neighborhood, transfer my electric bill, settle with my old building/prospective new building financially, and renegotiate my student loans, and in the mean time keep trying to book auditions, I can hopefully actually do it. As it stands I would rather die than call my loan company, for example. But I have to. And I haven’t. I can’t.
I did decide that it would be best for me to get a place on my own this time. I love my roommate and she is my best friend. We have had such a perfect living experience that when she moves I don’t think I’ll have it in me to learn a whole new person and how to live with one. Especially when it is not going to be my best friend, and therefore have a certain measure of built-in forgiveness for each other’s annoying habits.
Plus I will be the sole party responsible for everything. If I can do that for a year without getting help from my parents like the last time I lived alone, and without depending on my roommate to talk to the cable company/management office/maintenance people, I will think of myself as a Successful Person. And I will be so proud of that self-imposed title, and proud of my (inevitably) teeny tiny apartment, and that much more empowered to throw myself into the rest of the things that matter, like acting and writing and being altogether well-rounded (not that I won’t pursue those in the meantime, of course).
So, dear readers, I shan’t apologize for the run-on sentences; I do not know how to fix them without taking away my sincerity. Fun fact: I didn’t even mean to write about this. When I started I intended to write about a blog post I read called Things I Wish I Had Been Told In Theatre School. So that will have to be for tomorrow.