Acting From a Place of Truth

Remember that little bit about playing Cinderella? While all our other crazy adventures were happening,  I was also rehearsing my butt off 5 nights a week! Our community theater's production of Rogers and Hammerstein's "Cinderella" went up in August. I love taking part in community theater, especially in summer when spirits and energy are high. You might remember the down feeling I had after "Annie" last summer, but I had very little sense of loss when this show was over, not because it was a negative experience, but because I wasn't using theater as a diversion from reality this time around. I was in a much better place in my life, a place where I could give much more, and consequently I took away much more. Not only did I have my ever-thickening pregnant belly to nurture, but I gained wonderful new friendships and a healthy boost to my number of piano and voice students. Plus, who doesn't like to dress like a princess and sing and dance across the stage? :)

 It isn't always easy to explain why I love performing so much, especially at this little old theater. You rehearse to ungodly hours of the night (I sometimes didn't get to see Hans, because as soon as he came home from work I had to leave for rehearsal, and when I came home from rehearsal he was fast asleep in bed). You deal with the oldness of the building - broken air conditioning in the middle of July, dust, feathers and bird droppings (and sometimes whole birds) are constantly falling from the rafters and invading your senses. The water gets shut off and you have to go hours without a bathroom during performances. Our tiny backstage area is always ripe with drama - the kind that doesn't entertain or make anyone feel good. Oh, and did I mention the being pregnant while performing part?

Many think that theater is a self-centered hobby. That we like it because we like the attention. That's true. But I wouldn't dismiss it as anything less than a meaningful and worthwhile art form that enriches the souls of both the actors and the audience. I don't have many opportunities to step in someone else's shoes, or truly sympathize with an infamous character in literature. In fact, I always thought Cinderella was kind of a drag. This show allowed me to not only find worth in this short fairy tale, but to inject it with the spunk I'd always felt was missing!

And then there are the people. The "community" in "Community Theater." People from all walks of life - small business owners, insurance agents, district attorney assistants, physical therapists, teachers, stay at home moms - somehow manage to come together in this musty old theater and share their love for music and acting, and breathe life into their characters in ways I hadn't thought of. They are a joy to watch, and a pleasure to know. I treasure these people like my own family, and every show I'm involved in expands the family a little more.

And isn't that what community is all about, anyway? It invites new people to play a role in our lives - allowing them to influence us, love us, and remind us that our separateness is a lie. The truth is not that we all long to be connected, but that we already are.

Photo credits: Nick Schale Photography

Fragments of thoughts

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.

Oh yeah . . .

Hi there, little bloggy blog. I thought I would let you know that this happened:

And that I owe every happiness these past two months to the people who loved and supported me throughout this endeavor. Thank you, people too numerous to name. You don't know how much I've needed this. A tip of my hat and wave of my hand to "Annie," big breath now . . . and on to the next adventure. I'll write about that soon.

Oh, hello

I think the less time I have to write, the happier I am. Not because I don't love writing, but because it means I'm doing something. I have a lot to write about . . . reflections on the last 12 months of my life, Grandpa Hansen's funeral, more potty training anecdotes (I know you can hardly wait) . . . but for now I'm just unbelievably happy, and I don't want to write. (gasp!)

Auditions for "Annie" at the RCCP were this week. After a 5-day casting process, I am bouncing off the walls calmly, maturely announcing that I got that part I auditioned for! If you're either in the area or drawn to it by this news, you can see me play Grace Ferrell with a ridiculously talented cast on one of these dates:

July 30,31
August 6,7,8,13,14

I'll write again when my nerves are back in check and I can sit down to a full meal again. Or, you know, when I feel like it. :)

Yippee!