What am I doing?

That's the question!

This has been on my mind a lot recently. It seems like this is the question of Being In Your Thirties, or maybe I just think that because I’m in my thirties and I’m thinking it. It’s interesting how being (soon-to-be) unemployed has planted this question in the back of my brain, ready to reverberate when I least expect it. I was just about to start packing for New Hampshire, and I was reading a year-old profile of Matthew Macfayden, when I realized my heart was racing, and the question kept repeating in my head.

What am I doing?

My knee-jerk reaction is to try to answer it. To remind myself of my artistic longings. Of all the people that love me and that I love. Of the borough I’ve come to cherish and be annoyed by like a genuinely close friend. These are the thoughts that rush into my brain when it asks me, what are you doing? I’m building a career. I’m nourishing relationships. I’m deepening my sense of place. But my heart keeps racing. Why? What am I not thinking of? What answer have I missed?

And again, my knee-jerk reaction is to try to locate it. I know that I have a tendency to rationalize, to believe that if I can just think about something hard enough, I can solve it. It’s genuinely hard for me to remember that life isn’t a series of puzzles, mazes, and word games. 

So I began to wonder, what if having that question didn’t send me into a tailspin? 

What if when I asked that question, I answered, I’m being alive. I’m being me. I’m growing. I’m learning. I’m reading books before bed. I’m going to New Hampshire for two weeks. I’m trying to get Buckett and Tubbs to eat this fancy cat food that’s supposed to be good for them, and they’re revolting, they’re unionizing, they’re just not having it. I’m watching this TV show because my friend is going to be in Season Two, even though the show isn’t that great, I’m excited to see her. I’m so excited to see Jess tomorrow, it hurts. I’m trying not to think about it because I want it to be now. I’m feeling overwhelmed by how much Brooklyn feels like part of my identity. I’m thinking about what might come next. I’m waiting for another idea for a play to dig its way into my heart. I’m texting Gab, we hadn’t talked in like, a year! 

When I read books, I enter new worlds full of characters I love and loathe and am confused by. When I walk around Brooklyn, I watch people eating pasta under restaurant lights. When I go into a bookstore, I talk to the cashier about Otessa Mosfegh vs. Sally Rooney. When I watch that TV show, I think of my friend in England, and her stories about acting on set. When I think about what my next job will be, I imagine who I might talk to. When I see Jess, I will be with her. When I’m in New Hampshire, I will make new friends. 

In none of these cases am I alone. In all of these cases, I am not alone. 

Maybe when I ask myself what am I doing? I should really be asking —

What are we doing? Where are we going together? What will we do?