I don't understand why I care so much. Why I want so much to please other people. And I've come to the conclusion that it can't be what they think of me . . . omission is rarely recognized. If I smile at someone & greet them cheerily, maybe shake their hand, they'd think well of me - & probably not even miss the hug I didn't give them.
I'm going back to TC today to see And Then There Were None. Basically Ten Little Indians. And what theatre department hasn't performed this show? In fact, about ten years ago, TC did it. But that's Mr. B. Anyway, I could go to see the show tonight & everyone would be happy to see me & talk about what's been going on. I don't have to go back & video tape it Saturday night just so I can give copies to the cast members & director who usually try so hard every year to scrape up a copy & almost never can. But I am. And today, as I walk up to the school full of people I know & people I don't, there is no real need for me to stop by Dunkin' Doughnuts & pick up 3 dozen doughnuts for the cast & crew. In fact, I'll be dropping them off with Mr. B., & they probably won't even know they're from me. And if he lets them know, only half of them even know who I am.
I don't understand my intense drive to please people. It's been an asset & a pain in the asset, but it'll always be there . . .
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