I had a dream last night about the other “unrehearsed” Shakespeare companies in town. Apparently there are many. It’s a weird position to feel like the outsider because you’re the expert. Akin to this article I read about why Trump has support, which mostly confirmed what I was thinking in the more empathic center of my brain. They live in rural towns and retain the “We hate rich billionaires, but more specifically, rich billionaires who don’t speak with our voice.”

The voiceless. The irony again is that I also have no voice, because to speak is to be alienated by the people whom I would defend. I am a feminist guilty of the male gaze. I am a wealthy, white male who wants to give opportunities to artists who work hard. I have white guilt and am trying to overcome it. I am an intellectual and an apologist for it. I am an elitist who wants the masses to shut up and take their medicine so that they can have better opportunities. I am an overly empathic person who has shut down in the wake of so many people taking advantage, consciously or no.

I am the voiceless. I understand why Trump’s followers feel they have not been heard, why they feel like we live in a PC culture that won’t let them express themselves. We are all that way now, apart from those at the top of the oligarchical food chain.

Twas ever thus, I suppose. The clown, the cynic, the poet, the philosopher, they are the first to be outlawed. In order to lead, you must fit in. In order to change, you must first accept. The world is full of bullshit; a good pair of wellies is a better choice than a shovel.

With that in mind, how do you live in a world of people who will consistently ignore your positive contributions? Who will gossip? How do I do the work when so many people are fighting to keep me from doing it?

I hope I can pull myself through this last show.