Break a leg out there...

       I am terrible at public speech. I shake so hard I can't read the paper I hold, and start to stutter after a while. But put me on stage and the problem is gone. Because that's not me up there. That's a character. Every aspect of myself is gone. My wants and desires, my thought process, it's all somebody else. Then when you go offstage, after a long period of time of being an entirely different person, who doesn't suck at speaking in front of people, it's a wonderfully unique feeling. You feel relieved that you get to be YOU again. You can breathe a big sigh and feel happy and relaxed at the fact that you are yourself. It's comforting, to say the least.       


       When I was a Junior, my acting class teacher (a class I took for fun, and an easy a) urged me to be in the show coming up called "The Odd Couple". I had been going through some typical teenage problems, and some more complicated things at home, and was not in the best state of mind at this certain point of my life. I'd often have my headphones on all day and only talk to my friends when I couldn't avoid it. I decided that this may take my mind off my current situation, and I was beyond right. Instead of sitting at home every day after school and drowning myself in music and thought, I had something to focus on. But it went far beyond that. By my senior year, I actually had a real reason to want to graduate, and do something after. Throughout high school, I slacked off and failed a lot of classes. I was more than intelligent enough to pass, in fact doing well on tests saved me a few times, I just didn't and couldn't care about the work I was given. I was deficient 7 credits at the end of Junior year, and 5 at the beginning of Senior year thanks to summer school. I passed all my classes to be able to participate in the shows, and I made up all 5 credits in online classes in order to graduate on time. I was inspired to actually pursue a career on the stage by a man named Samuel Benedict. He basically directed, choreographed, and acted as musical director for our spring show, a Revue called A Night On Broadway. His passion and talent exceeded anything I had ever seen, and he showed me something I decided I desperately wanted. I enjoyed nothing more than my time on stage, and I knew from then on out that I would rather live in poverty my whole life chasing something I love than be successful doing something I don't. Were it not for the feeling I get every time I pass the theatre, I wouldn't be going to college. I'd be working full time and going nowhere slow.

       You develop a family when you're in a show. Your talent and abilities grow alongside people that, whether you love or hate right off the bat, you have to at the very least have a mutual respect for. I met some of my best friends in the theatre program, and strengthened friendships I already had. Leaving that dressing room was one of the most emotional days of my life. That's when high school ended for me. When I packed up and left my second bedroom. Shaking the Principal's hand and receiving my diploma place holder? Utterly insignificant in comparison. Seeing my stage mom and dad (our backstage and stage managers) cry, and embracing the girl who had been like a little sister to me, and my best friend, my brother, who I knew my friendship with would never be the same. When I saw Matt (dad) start to cry, I lost it. He was the one who carried every show on his shoulders and never showed a bit of weakness. He had worked from 8 hours to our 3 and still sat quiet while we bitched about our feet hurting. I use the word family quite literally as you can see. We've bonded over our hardships and our shortcomings, our talents and our humor. To be able to have that kind of love forged out of a common interest is just an indescribable feeling to me.





I wouldn't trade 10 minutes of the most tedious tech rehearsal for all the wealth in the world.