Suddenly I heard a crash so loud it stopped me, cold. There are certain sensations we hold in our bodies as preemptive planning. What will I do if somebody breaks in? If a tree falls on my home? Could I jump out this window? Will a neighbor answer my call?
academic friends are completely demoralized by the fact that they can no longer trust that a single assignment from any of their students isn’t written by a robot. My creative sector friends are watching as contracts get canceled because decades of expert learning and deep skill-bases get replaced by AI-driven images.
I’ve now visibilized the invisible bag of tricks as part of the show–all the skills and lessons I was picking up along the way.
There are some pairings in this life that just don’t make sense. Even Bailey’s son, Max, said to me one day, “I just don’t get you two. I do not understand this relationship.” I’m not sure I could have described it until now.
But what happens if my job is only successful if I learn how to really F.A.A.F.O.? What I’m learning is…I don’t think I get any better at my storytelling, especially if I’m going to make a whole full-length show, if I can’t learn to play–really play, like I’m a little kid again–and let some things fail.
As I have slept on hospital recliners, created calendars for coordinating treatment transportation and meal drop-offs, and called on networks for everything from emotional support to equipment donations, one clarion call keeps echoing in my ear. We are not doing elderhood the right way around here. It is terrifying, isolating. It can break your back and your bank.