I love circus. Dear god, do I love circus. I eat it, I breathe it, I live it, I.... herd a mercenary band of flaky performers (myself included), deal with clients, book gigs, drive us all, arrange the music, then put on make-up and tease money out of recalcitrant audiences. Usually in one night.
I love circus.
But some days I feel like I can't do it anymore.
(I did this piece a week ago, during a seriously performance heavy weekend when I was also handling the bureaucracy for the circus group I run on campus. The original text over the head was a thought bubble reading "i can't do this anymore". Life quieted down on that front for about a week, but it just recently picked up, and I found myself hitting that same place again as I'm suddenly staring down an unorganized performance in Ranier tomorrow night, an unconfirmed show on Saturday, and three new clients as of yesterday.)
I got my grubby hands on the copy stand at school today, and replaced the piece from yesterday with the copy I took today. O glee!
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