Last week, I went for a short run and when I was done, I started to stretch. (To be clear, I’m a person with sneakers whose only goal is not to collapse at the end of two miles and am not an actual runner.)

I had a wild and varying journey, trying many things out. Nothing was set in stone. If that were the case, I’d be in the NYC ballet or ABT hopping around a stage at Lincoln Center or directing bizarre versions of Chekhov plays in a small, broken down theatre on the lower east side which is still incredibly romantic sounding to me, even now.

I was always the kid that hung out with the “old people” who sat on their stoops in the Bronx more than I hung out with kids my age.

So my Aunt Dana said something to me the other day – or rather wrote it in a Facebook post – that has inspired this post. In no way is she responsible for this post…only this sentence:

Life is full of disappointments. People in particular can be very disappointing. Their motives are often completely unclear and their missing the value you have brought to them over the years is just stupefying.

Recently, I was at a FilmmakeHers meeting where one of the members commented that she wrote her last script at her corporate job where she was being paid to answer the phones that rarely ever rang.