Wednesday, April 08, 2009

It's Wednesday night, and I'm not in a show

* Our reinterpretation of Iwo Jima.

It hit me at 9 pm tonight: I'm standing in my kitchen. Not onstage, or backstage, or in the dressing room, or in a green room, or in any room other than one I pay rent to stand in.

In short, I'm no longer in a show. And that fact makes me itch.

Yes, I have my evenings back, after a gnarly month of starting a new job, performing five nights out of seven, fitting in family and friends' visits, crushing all chores into one evening per week, and communicating with my roommates solely through email.

But I don't have my newfound friends. You know, the ones who wriggle on the floor to get into dance tights and break into showtunes and hug you in that overly sexed show-person way that makes you feel slightly icky but mostly scintillated.

* The cast and crew of Hexagon 2009.

Worse, I have all these catchy, original lyrics running through my head, but no one to harmonize with. I can now kick my leg to eye-level without injury, but no can-can skirt to highlight the accomplishment. And I can prove I fit into bunny outfits, but now can't wear my work clothes because they're falling off.*

* Seriously, I am forced to safety-pin every pair of pants I own right now. The result: diaper butt.

* The final can-can pose. This is after the 37,000 counts of kicking that led me to not fit in my pants.

Sure, the boys were glad to see me again. But after a couple nights, I can see they're already taking me for granted. I don't understand why they don't laugh or applaud the minute I enter a room. Obviously, we need to have a little chat.

I've tried thinking on the bad times -- like the night the A/C broke and it was 95 degrees in the theater, so we started the show an hour late, which was helpful because the sound was also broken and we had to fix it, and let's not mention the fact that a toilet overflowed in the women's room.

But that was only one night. Out of 23 performances. So I'm back to thinking about the good times -- like all the local celebrities we met in the dressing room, and the free cookies, and the opportunity to feel loved and liked and appreciated every night by friends and strangers alike.

* Garters. Also known as thigh size indicators.

Not to mention that we made people laugh in hard times. That we skewered the very pols and situations causing all the angst. Oh, and that in doing so, we managed to raise 25,000 smackaroos -- in the midst of a recession, at a much smaller theater -- for Rebuilding Together.

Perhaps you see now why I'm less than enthused about having time to try out new recipes.

So, what next? Well, I start the slow process of reclaiming my life. I'll sleep more, eat more, gain more weight, volunteer again, restart voice lessons, return phone calls, and do all those other normal things normal people who don't require constant validation do.*

* Buying a personal bunny outfit does not fall into this category. I don't think, anyway.

And then, in a year, I'll be ready to audition for Hexagon again. And it will begin anew. But for now ...


The end(s).

6 comments:

  1. Anonymous10:43 PM

    Keeping in mind recently agreed upon restrictions, I, obviously, must conclude you are no. 2 in the front view, but in the stern view, I think you have to be no.4.(the long slender legs, the finest sitter.C

    ReplyDelete
  2. thank goodness you are back. i need someone to give me MY constant validation!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Bravo Julia!! I'm applauding for you right now However, where did the butt shot of the Can Can come from and how can I remove it from existence? I miss you and all our castmates. I will send out an email as soon I find out if we have any Hexagoners showed scheduled. But in the meantime, let's schedule a May Happy Hour.
    xoxox Kathy

    ReplyDelete
  4. A Not-So-Secret Admirer1:22 PM

    Ummm... you did much more than just "fit in" to that bunny outfit. You owned the damn thing. And I fully support any post-show therapy program that involves buying a personal bunny outfit. Are you accepting contributions to your fund?

    Of course you miss everyone in the show, but you'll see them again. I think you just have to focus on the freedom you now have to accomplish everything else on your to-do list that you've been pushing off. And I'll be more than happy to both laugh and applaud the next time you walk into a room... followed by an icky but scintillating hug!

    ReplyDelete
  5. J - I had to laugh out loud reading this post! I've worked pretty much every theater job from acting to directing to producing (whether I was actually getting paid or not) and I know exactly what you mean about the hugs! I've found the backstage of a theater, especially during a performance, to be the most ridiculously hormone-stuffed, erotic-without-actual-sex-happening place on earth! That includes clubs, bars and frat parties.
    There's a big part of me that really misses theater. Maybe next year, I'll audition with you ;)

    ReplyDelete
  6. @Sus: Whatever you need, baby. I'm here for you. Booyah! Consider yourself VALIDATED!

    @Kathleen: Sean took it! It's in his Picasa album. Take up the "removing from existence" step with him. ;)

    @Not-So-Secret: Caution ... one day I might out you on the blog. Until then, however, all bunny outfit funds can be funneled to my Swiss Bank Account under the name "Hefner Hottie."

    @Elisa: OMG PLEASE TRY OUT WITH ME NEXT YEAR. We will have sooo much fun!! And just think, it will finally give us an opportunity to meet in person. ;)

    ReplyDelete