Most people would rather stay home and watch Casablanca for the fourth time or the 10th time on Turner Classic Movies than go see Matrix 12 or whatever the hell the flavor of the month is.
Performers are so vulnerable. They're frightened of humiliation, sure their work will be crap. I try to make an environment where it's warm, where it's OK to fail - a kind of home, I suppose.
If I'm at home for the weekend - and that is almost never - I tend to get twitchy at about eight o'clock in the evening because my body clock is timed to go on stage. I don't know what to do with myself.
When I was about ten, I was very impressed by the way Tarzan could swing through the trees from vine to vine. No one ever told me, 'Don't try this at home.'
All of these things we do without children, and suddenly we don't do them anymore, and it comes home to us in a real way, that it's very different to have the responsibility of a child.
A lot of filmmakers from my generation were lucky enough to have their work more or less perpetuated by people who saw them originally on TV and on HBO and certainly on home video.
A few years ago in Chicago, I rented an office, and I went there every day. For the most part I do work at home in an ugly room.
I always think the second worst thing in the world is to go on stage at night, and the first worst thing in the world is sitting at home at night. For me, it's scarier to not be doing it than doing it.
Things have changed so much, with Facebook and Twitter. Everyone is so much more accessible these days: no British athlete has ever experienced what we are experiencing now. It's such a unique situation with the home Olympics.
I fantasize about having a manual job where I can come home at night, read a book and not feel responsible for what will happen the next day.
I've been doing stand-up just about every night since I started in 1989. It's my home base. But I'm into doing comedy in all mediums, platforms and situations.
I'm never without Nerds and peanut M&M's. I have a sweet tooth! I have an unlimited supply on hand at home, but the candy packs in my purse are not for sharing.
Every day I lugged my backpack through the halls, waiting for the final bell. Then I'd race home and hole up in my room, playing the drums and the piano, composing music.
Our favorite: a former garbage dump converted into a riverside park. I first ran there more than 30 years ago when a marathon passed through this park that later became home to Pre's Trail.
I love getting back to Wivenhoe. I get out of my wig, bustle and costume in three minutes flat at the end of the play before jumping into a taxi outside the theater and catching the train home.
My father was a CPA. He worked hard in the aircraft industry, and would come home more and more infrequently. He was about to leave my mother, which he did when I was 15.
When I started competing, you had to have your coach there. Now you can be coached from a home office via Skype or video. That's not the same as having them on the field with you.
I'm very used to stages and dressing rooms. And dare I say it, much as I like being at home, I love the buzz of a new hotel room. It never quite loses its thing.
Then you have to be with somebody who understands your job. Understands there are gonna be dollybirds going, 'Hi I'm Candy,' and be prepared to ignore that. And also be prepared to be there when you get home. That's a difficult job.
You can go out feet first, and that's not my desire, or you can say, I think we've served with distinction, and this is the time to go home and seek a new challenge.
Then, after I came home from Europe, I found I was under condemnation; and I was condemned at that time because I did not endorse the financial policy of the General Conference.
