I like to sing in the shower.

Like, a lot. Like, really loud. Like, broadway musical style: shampoo bottle microphone, pretending the water droplets are tears mustered at the emotional peak of my (admittedly slightly overdramatic) rendition of "Defying Gravity".

And when I'm not in the shower, I like to lip synch. Choreographed arm motions, letting my vocal chords flex as if they were actually singing, facial expressions to match.

Trust me, that gets me a lot of funny looks on my walk to class.

But I love it.

And now I'm in college, it's a lot less weird. (Well, I do live in Santa Cruz, so my definition of weird is a little warped, but whatever).

When I was younger, my shower-singing tendencies were the first sign of something beginning to bloom in my personality.

I'm sure my mother suspected.

I was born to be a theater kid.

In high school, I found theater. Like, really found it. I auditioned for the spring musical, Aladdin. I was nervous, I sang an uncomfortable little ditty, and expected to be cast as a tree or something. I ended up double-cast as Jasmine, and spent my "off nights" as a member of the ensemble.

And it was love at first sight.

I loved playing Jasmine. I loved doing high kicks in the back row of the chorus line. I loved the acceptance I was shown by this little band of self proclaimed weirdos. We listened to show tunes, and My Chemical Romance. We did warm ups to chirping pop songs and Fall Out Boy. We spent hours together, running scenes and learning to dance (or at least do a half-assed jazz square).

There's something beautifully freeing about being on stage. You can express yourself through the mask of a character. It doesn't matter what the words of the song are saying, you can feel those notes in your soul.

I wish I had thrown myself in more whole-heartedly. I was (stupidly) afraid to be christened a "drama kid". Everyone knows drama kids are very, very strange.

But they're also funny, smart, unwaveringly loyal, and full of love.

The amount of kindness that theater people have to give is unprecedented.

I kept doing shows. Fall productions of Shakespeare and other little projects. These were fun, certainly. But they were just the warm up.

We waited all year, for one thing. Our version of the homecoming game, the only thing that mattered come January: the big, much anticipated spring musical.

My second year of theater, we did Shrek: The Musical. I was double cast, spending my time either as Fiona, or Random Chorus Character 5.

It was even better than the previous year. I wore a red wig, I made stupid jokes (on stage!), I harmonized. I had a dance number that involved the bottom half of my dress being removed (this became a recurring theme with my musical numbers). I learned to tap dance! (I sucked!).

I found a home, in this strange bubble of performing.

And I miss that home a lot.

I miss the long nights of rehearsal, the jitters of opening night.

I miss my Morticia stage makeup (Yes, we did Addams Family).

Most of all, I miss having a space to be just, weird. To be loud, and dance (if badly), and sing (again, badly).

But, I can carry a little bit of that in my heart.

And when I'm alone in the laundry room, I'm back in that chorus line, and singing my little heart out.