SPARK

What is that spark? Where does it come from?

I have days and weeks where my flesh and bones hang heavy. I am a ball of desperate, stressed and awkward energy. I second-guess myself on everything because I need things too badly. I can see myself coming from a mile away. So can the Cops. I get parking tickets. I get summonses in the mail with pictures of me driving through red lights. I have been known to get jaywalking tickets. I have even been known to get jaywalking tickets in front of the courthouse on my way to argue a summons. I don’t do well at my auditions. Money is scarce. I even say the wrong thing in social situations. Like “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” to an unpregnant woman or “I look as bad as Mr. Tuttle in that photo!” not realizing Mrs. Tuttle is right behind me.

Then suddenly the spark sparks.

The road opens up and I start making lights on my commute to and from auditions. A luminescent quality starts to burn away the shadows in me. Kraft American cheese slices go on sale. My slippers stay together and within reach. The Boy starts to tell everyone in Two-onics that I am his Daddy. My Beautiful Bride starts to eyeball me like I’m a hunk of Teenage Vampire. When I take my shirt off, her eyes widen, like I’m more a buff Teenage Werewolf than a pigeon chested Teenage Vampire. At my auditions I stop acting and start being. I book jobs. I get thick envelopes in the mail from my Talent Agent filled with residual glee. I have to keep looking down to make sure my feet are grounded and not floating off. Even I turn my head whenever I walk in to a room. I become fluent in pop culture and can talk Lady Goo Goo or I Am Sam with the best of them. I am charming and sincere. It’s awesome!

Oh spark I love you. I am enjoying the ride. I wish I knew what brought you on. I wish I could bottle you and drink from you whenever things get too real.