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It�s funny. Amy has started forwarding all sorts of email on to me. Most of it is the same email crap I�ve received a thousand times before (she�s especially big on the bleeding heart stuff that Snopes tells me is useless). Today, though, she passed this on to me. It�s something I�ve seen before, but that actually hit me the right way. I saved the copy I got a few years ago, and thought I�d include the one I got today in my entry:
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE�
One old love she can imagine going back to...and one who reminds her how far she has come.
Enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own even if she never wants to or needs to.
Something perfect to wear if the employer or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour.
A youth she's content to leave behind...a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to retelling it in her old age.
A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
One friend who always makes her laugh...and one who lets her cry.
A good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family.
Eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honored.
A feeling of control over her destiny.
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
How to fall in love without losing herself.
How to quit a job, break up with a lover, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
When to try harder...and when to walk away.
That she can't change the length of her calves, the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents.
That her childhood may not have been perfect...but it's over.
What she would and wouldn't do for love or more...
How to live alone...even if she doesn't like it...
Whom she can trust, whom she can't, and why she shouldn't take it personally...
Where to go...be it to her best friend's kitchen table...or a charming inn in the woods...when her soul needs soothing...
What she can and can't accomplish in a day...a month...and a year...
Anyway�
So�Let�s play Once Upon a Time for a minute, shall we?
Once upon a time, there was a high school freshman named Jennifer who really wanted a part in the school play. Audition notices were been posted, and Jennifer spent hours practicing the piece she�d perform for the director.
When the day of the auditions arrived, Jennifer was very nervous, but her friends gave her lots of support and encouragement. She knew she was ready for the audition. She hoped she�d get a part. She wanted to be in the play.
The English dept. head was the play�s director. He was always the play�s director. He stared forward from his tiny auditorium seat as one actor after another stood center stage and read for him. Finally, it was Jennifer�s turn.
She handed the director her information sheet and took the stage. The auditorium disappeared as she recited her lines. The moment whizzed by as she spoke. Finished, exhilarated, she walked back toward the director.
�That was a lovely audition, Jennifer,� he said in his old man�s voice, �but you should know, I never cast freshman. You could have saved yourself the time.�
Jennifer stood there and blinked at him, too stunned to do anything else. By the time she thought of a response, he had turned his attention to the next actor, a smarter upper classman.
That was the extent of my time on stage in high school. That one moment killed my desire to audition for anything. Instead, I morphed into the rarest type of high school drama geek�the girl techie. I wandered around the auditorium from the first rehearsal to the final performance armed with a headset, glow tape and a hammer. I learned how to run a spotlight. I constructed sets. I got coffee for the director (thankfully, the evil ogre man retired after my freshman year, sparing other hopeful teens from my fate). I dressed all in black. I gathered props. I learned about the other side of the theater.
They�re good skills to have. And they�re skills I�ve continued to use. I�ve spent several stints as stage manager to local community productions and can run a tight backstage without making my actors hate me, a talent I�ve been told is rare. And I do love it.
But I�ve missed being out there.
Backstage is a lot of fun, and it�s great to know that you run the show. But you work your ass off and get none of the applause. I missed the applause.
Enter my friend John. John �runs� a �theater group� out of Quincy High School, his alma mater. Officially, it�s an alumni group (which means they get to use the facilities at the high school), although they�ve been rather�well�inactive lately. He�s asked me on several occasions if I�d be in a production they were planning, and I�ve always said yes, but for different reasons, the productions have never happened.
Until now.
We were going to do Of Mice and Men, but somewhere along the line, the plan changed. For a good chunk of time, I had no idea what was going to happen, if anything. Then Monday, Damon showed up on my doorstep with a script of sorts in hand (which he dropped and ran, hoping to avoid catching my evil flu bug). The catch? The show is Friday.
I went to our first rehearsal last night. We have another tonight, which is good, since we spent most of last night trying to fix the sound problems. Hopefully, by Friday at 8:00, when the chairs are at least partway full of people who�ve paid their nine dollars to watch the show, The New Cruelty, we�ll look like we have a clue about what we�re doing.
What is The New Cruelty? It�s a series of sketches (some original, some �borrowed�, some tasteless humor, some stupid humor--hopefully all humor), interspersed with a few numbers by a local band called Schedule 2. I have a fairly large chunk of stage time, considering I just truly got involved in the show this week. It will be unquestionably�interesting.
One of the sketches I�m in calls for me to kiss one of the other actors. Chris has been a friend of mine for a long time. He�s also Glen�s brother. For years, he�s mostly jokingly propositioned me. For years, I mostly jokingly accepted. Of course, nothing ever happened between us. Other than the fact that he flirted with me shamelessly, and I reciprocated in kind (good thing his girlfriend likes me. Good thing the Artboy liked him). Now, oddly enough, I�ve already kissed him a couple times, and will do it again a few more before we�re through. Of course, all of them have been, and will continue to be, with an audience. But it�s funny how things work out.
Now, if I can just find a way to say, �Make love to me, Jonathan!� to him without laughing, the skit will be just fine!
Send some good show vibes in our direction tomorrow night, would you?
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