To Be or Not To Be On Stage

Last night was the opening of yet another restaurant cabaret; 'restaurant' because we all work together at a soup shop, and since we're all performers, we occasionally to shows together. The shows have all traditionally been 1-shot Valentine's Day vehicles for the staff members to draw upon considrerable experience in order to emote and opine through. This is the first 'holiday' cabaret (ChristmaKwanzakuhsolsticemas and whatever anyone else believes in), and the first where there are multiple performances. Up until the show, I was feeling very stressed about it. It's natural to have nerves, and suffer that anxiety about not being quite prepared enough, but I think the real issue with me is that I have recently been trying to convince myself that I don't want to perform anymore. So, on top of nerves and dreams of not remembering the words on stage in my undies, I was feeling put out, as if I were being asked to do something I just didn't want to do.
Now we jump forward a bit to after last nights performance. I felt something that I haven't felt in years: the desire to perform the same show again. You have to understand, when I lived in NYC, I did improv almost exclusively. This was because, although I developed a real love for theatre in Michigan, the main things that bothered me about it were the director and the process of having to do the same show over and over again. Inevitably, boredom would set in and I would want to change things, keep it fresh. This always frustrated my scene partners, who just wanted to do what they had rehearsed, and inevitably got me busted with the director, who tended to like the way they did it the first time.
Jump forward a little further in time to the present. I'm sitting here, typing out my thoughts about performing, feeling both nerves and anxiety. The nerves I can trace to an overwhelmingly rich cup of Yuban coffee (felt like trying something new--they have environmental accolades on the can!). The anxiety, however, comes as a result of me possibly having to reconsider that I don't want to perform any more. You see, life was starting to become so normal and easy. I was back to working only 1 job (10 months of the year, anyway). I had started really following professional football. I started disregarding audition invitations. I even went bowling recently. Normalcy is so close, friends, so close. And yet, something in there has stirred, some insatiable little gremlin who deep in my right brain who I thought to be deceased but was only lying dormant, waiting for the Rockwellian curtain to descend before pricking up its ears and raging me back to a lifestyle of the avant garde.
Jump forward to the near future. As soon as we close the current cabaret, I will need to begin writing material for the next Valentine's show. I understand there is also a museum gig the day before, one requested in the style of a USO show. Then what, 4th of July, Mother's Day, a Labor Day cabaret? It may not matter whether I am driven or not. The monkeys have shaken the cage so much that all 4 walls have collapsed, leaving a grand stage open for our pent up creative lunacy. I suppose as long as the patrons keep their appetites up for everything we throw at them (and I'm not unaware of the unfortunate prior pairing of metaphors here), we will remain there to dish it out.