One night after a long rehearsal a group of my classmates and I headed down to a popular watering hole called, The West End Bar. Students like Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and Lucien Carr spent hours there during the formative years of the Beat Generation.
The place had changed quite a bit when I arrived. (I'm gathering the fusion Cuban dishes and karaoke were recent additions.) But that night I couldn't help myself and decided to partake in the latter.
I've always said, there are two things you don't want me doing: cooking and singing. And after my performance I understood why. But what informed me more about who I was at the time were not the missed notes but rather my habit of berating myself for my performance -- even for something as trivial as singing in a noisy bar.
Of course, it was tenfold when I'd get off stage. Nothing was every good enough. I strove for perfection each time I delivered a monologue or stepped in a black box theater. I needed to be the best at any cost, even if it meant losing a part of myself.
Looking back, I realize being satisfied doesn't mean you're settling. It simply means you give yourself much deserved credit for a job well done and have decided not to delay something that simply can't wait: JOY.
Find it wherever you can in whatever you do.
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