It's almost 1 AM, and yet I sit here still, typing away. My mind is still buzzing from the last six weeks of rehearsal, build, light hang, and all the other exciting aspects of the show that closed just 8 hours ago. And now? It's gone. Lost to the ether. There's something melancholy about that part of theatre. After so many hours of investment, all the practice and work is suddenly meaningless to the casual observer.
But anyone who knows what's what can see that isn't so. Over the past six weeks, I've built relationships, learned new skills, and probably gained a few scars, too. There's no doubt in my mind that this was all worth it - whatever "it" is, exactly. I still use things I learned from my first shows, even if I don't realize it at the time - By this point, picking up other actors' cues is second nature. What did I learn this time around that will be second nature ten years from now? (Don't put your arm near a hot ellipsoidal? ...I hope I can learn that one a lot quicker, actually.)
Of course, now that the show's over, I still have school to contend with. A test on Tuesday; rehearsals for the scene I'm directing starting on Monday; and, of course, this is not to mention all the social ordeals I still have to deal with on a daily basis. Life doesn't slow down just because the show ends; in fact, I need to kick myself into high gear to catch up with everything else. I do my best to not fall behind during a show, but it always happens somewhere. But, well... It'd be boring otherwise, right?
I still remember the first time I heard of a college class not giving a comprehensive final. I was baffled. Shouldn't you need to remember everything you've learned? On top of that, shouldn't everything you've learned build on top of each other, so that the previously-covered aspects of the final would be somewhat easier? (That's what I get for being a math major, I suppose.) Regardless, it's my belief that everything - From Directing class to Real Analysis tests to eating lunch in the cafeteria - is part of a greater tapestry than I could hope to understand at this point in my life. How can you not be asked to remember what you learned within the past four months on a final? I'm still using things I learned ten years ago in my daily life; again, not directly, but those habits have laid a foundation which have made me a certain kind of person that I wouldn't trade for anything.
Which brings me back to now. It's about twenty minutes later now, and the buzz is still there. Maybe buzz is a good word. The blues haven't quite set in yet. They might soon... Or they might not. I might not have time for them to sink in. But either way, I know that eventually I'll be involved in a new play, investing in it mind, body, and soul. And that will pass too. And that's not OK. It's great. If I clutched to the experiences of just one of my plays, I wouldn't learn the intense memorization I learned for Tartuffe, or the dynamics of an open space I learned in Mother Courage, or all the nonsense I learned from Into the Woods. (Still trying to discern exactly what I learned from this show. I'll get back to you on that.) Every play has a limited moment, but that doesn't mean it has a limited impact. I'm excited to see exactly what I learn from this show, and I'm hoping it's something amazing.
I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this space, but whenever I have musings about my theatre life, I'll have somewhere to put it. Don't expect weekly posts, or even monthly posts... But I'll try to keep it interesting, even if it isn't coherent. If you put up with the jumps in logic, I'll tell you vaguely interesting stories about the life of a theatre brat. Deal?
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