When I was a child, which is a completely relative term, my parents signed me up for acting classes at a local theatre. They thought it would be a great outlet for all my "energy". Basically, they wanted someone else to put up with me after school. But what had been an outlet for my "energy" became a passion I had for almost five whole years. A passion that was lost once I entered high school, but not forgotten. That passion for the thing that, for all intents and purposes, raised me was rekindled when an incredible senior gave me a chance to be in her senior capstone project.
The play? "Almost, Maine".
The venue? The Brehmer Theatre at Colgate University.
It was my first production (with a speaking role, but that's a different story) in about six years. Things that had been more or less second nature to me before I was a teenager were long gone, such as how I memorised lines, stage directions, thespian lingo, and how to stay quiet backstage. Alright, so I was never really good at that last one, but still.
The play was cute. It is a series of nine short, different love stories. Most of them had happy and heartwarming resolutions, but not all of them. Since I was about eight, I have been in several different types of plays. I've seen people die, people blinded, people fall in and out of life, children's stories come to life, and everything in between. I left that world to pursue a world full of music, competition, and even more stress (yes, it's possible).
I don't believe I made a mistake because I learned a valuable lesson during my five-year hiatus from the theatre. But now that I've turned my gloves and valve oil in for a script, there is no way that I'll be looking back. Do I want to pursue it as a career? No way. But we live in a world that is full of chaos and confusion, and being on stage is the only thing that feels right, that makes sense. How on earth could I turn that down?
As Stella Adler once said, "The word theatre means the seeing place. It is the place people come to see the truth about life and the social situation". She was talking about the audience, but I feel that it applies to more than just those who come to see a show. Speaking from personal experience, I finally saw what I had been missing.
On stage, we portray characters, don various facades, and perform magic tricks in front of you. It's our job. Only in doing that can we finally see what is true. It takes someone who lives by a curtain to see what is actually behind it.
I know it may sound ridiculous for me to feel this way after three performances of one show, but I had all of tech week to think about this, I mean, practice my lines.
The stage is home. The cast and crew, my family and friends. Being under the lights has made me a better person, and I can only hope that is still the case when I take my final curtain call and when the stage lights go dim.
But for now, I'll wait for the house lights to go dark, for the next set to be in place, and for the next story to be told. Give me your hands if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.
