Good to Get Back.

I did a short spot at an open mic gig in Finsbury Park tonight, which is becoming a habit; primarily as it's so near to home. 

There was a real sense of luxury when I came out of the gig and it was only half eight. This makes me wonder why on earth I put myself through something if I'm that pleased by the realisation that I'll get home early; is this normal? Does everyone get that excited at the thought of finishing whatever they've set out to do? I know many people see work as a means-to-an-end and aren't defined by their job, but isn't performing meant to be different? You certainly don't do it for the money (unless you were one of the central cast of Friends or Frasier, when I imagine the massive episodic fee was a pleasant by-product). 

That's not to say that I didn't enjoy tonight; it's a nice little gig, and was useful as a chance to try out a couple of stories I haven't told in public before - but I'm still delighted to already be on a train speeding homeward so early, I'll almost be back pre-watershed. I just like being at home and don't feel I'm there enough; I don't want to spend all my time rushing from one thing to the next that I somehow miss the most important things in life. Comedy, acting and music are fine, but they're transient; this is too philosophical a way to end a blogpost, but I'm still going to do it.