Coming down from the thrill that was being a part of "Annie" has been rough. Really rough. I miss the people. I miss the diversion . . . spending 3 hours of my evening back stage in musty dressing rooms and between cobwebbed cement walls covered in signatures . . . it sounds dreadful, but it was bliss. It was theater. Screwed up lines and improvisations, costume changes and clouds of hair spray, eating our weight in Twizzlers while giggling that our mic packs were encased in latex condoms to "protect" them, doing sheep and velociraptor impressions between acts and making Daddy Warbucks laugh so hard he couldn't stop when we were on stage. We sold out 5 of the 8 shows. I had friends who literally couldn't come because they couldn't get tickets. It was just that good. I miss it. So. Much.
The aforementioned "adventure" that was to occur after "Annie" was a Broadway music review in conjunction with the First City Festival on September 11th. For reasons too numerous and multi-faceted to name, that didn't happen. Suffice it to say that 7 of the 10 people involved were in agreement that the show wasn't working, and wouldn't be something we could put on stage and be proud of. It was a painfully difficult decision to make, and I'm still not 100% sure it was the right one for me. . . but it's done, and it's time to move on.
Now the carpet has been swept from under my feet. Disoriented and slightly depressed, I feel like I need to be somewhere when I don't. There's more than meets the eye in that dusty old theater full of fire hazards, Stetson hats and feather boas. It draws you in with bread crumb trails and eats you whole if you're not careful. It fills your life with interesting people and forms a hunger in your heart for more. More tours through labyrinthine prop rooms and haunted basements. More opportunities to be bathed in sawdust and spirit gum. More mic checks and vocal warm-ups, curtains and backdrops, green rooms and rituals. I need an outlet for all this creative energy I had intended for the next show. I have a mind to put together a recital - a marriage of classical and Broadway songs for soprano. I'm excited to brainstorm and draw ideas and inspiration from a very dear friend and former voice professor next weekend. I'll keep you posted on that. I also looked up audition dates for the KC Symphony Chorus (they just had them recently, but will have more in January) and the Lyric Opera of Kansas City (February). I'll find something.
In the meantime, I'm trying to gather as many voice and piano students as I can. Teaching fills me, though I know it doesn't fill my pockets. Because he is trying to complete his EMT certification in one mind-blowing semester Hans is up to his ears in class work, which makes getting a job and moving out of my parents' house nearly impossible. I'm grateful for their patience and love while we try to detangle our messes and piece our post-Japan life back together before their eyes. This has been easy for no one.
For those still reading, thank you. Your open hearts and listening ears give me a safe place to keep my thoughts.