I’ve been punching myself  in the face (figuratively) a lot lately because I don’t feel like I have a Cause.  Something that gets me all riled up, something I can get behind and push (besides the writing of drama plays which, by itself, honestly, every now and then makes me feel selfish and empty.)

I think people rally behind causes because they’re personally affected by something and it causes them to be passionate about it (like losing a parent to cancer, having a heart condition, being adopted, etc.) I’ve had an extremely fortunate life, um, should I be resenting this? Definitely not. Stupid. I know I’m lucky. OR – a person rallies behind a cause because they have a great capacity for empathy, and they just find themselves extremely affected by something – like my bestest Elizabeth Castoria who champions animal rights and is amazing and is an editor and Veg News (www.vegnews.com) and who is pretty and I love her.

So what about me? I think I’m extremely empathetic. My heart breaks pretty much all the time over the various crazy and tragic people wandering the streets of new york, talking to themselves; over the awful, unfair things that happen to people here and all over the world. I think that my quiet excuse to myself so far has just been, there’s no room. There’s just no more room. With day job and writing, there’s no room for selflessness, for giving my time to a cause or to others. Isn’t that terrible? Or, I worry I’m a fraud if I just arbitrarily pick something out of a hat like ‘oh, the dolphins!’ or ‘tragic lymphoma! or ‘must save the earth!’

I don’t quite know where to go from here, I just wanted to admit that I feel a void. I’m going to start with nyc cares and see where it takes me.