Welcome Back! [Welcome to My Life in Lancaster!]

Welcome back everyone! I've reinstated my blog now that I have found a full time job. Today I'm writing about transitions, and My Life in Lancaster. (That sounds like a great book title...) This one is a little long, but I have months of life to catch you up on, with a good resolution at the end. Join me, and stick with me during this new chapter! Love you all!

-S.

Transitions are hard.

Whether you’re starting the next level of your schooling, a new career, or a new chapter of your life, it’s hard to deny--change is tough.

I have always had an immense amount of pride in my ability to handle change. My top StrengthsFinder is Adaptability...I go with the flow, and whisper that first part of the Serenity Prayer. You know, “God grant  me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…” If I were brave enough, I’d tattoo it on the back of my hand as a constant reminder.

But recently I’ve come to realize that “change” and “a time of transition” aren’t always the same thing. We often use them interchangeably, and this of course varies for everyone…my definition of “change” is something that happens unexpectedly and throws off my routine or balance. And my definition of “a time of transition” is something that has been anticipated.

This new chapter that I’ve started is undeniably a life change, but it’s more of a transition. I have been anticipating moving to Lancaster for 5 years. It was the summer of 2010 when I made my first long-term visit. I stayed for a week with Liesl and we had our inaugural year of kids theatre camp. I met so many people who have influenced the woman I am now and I will never forget that. Each year since then, I’ve made the trek back and forth for various reasons, and about 6 months before I got engaged I knew that I had to spend my engagement in the city of Lancaster.

That didn’t happen. Instead I had to deal with change. He moved, I stayed. I was plagued by crippling panic attacks for weeks after he left. I shoved the idea of moving to Lancaster out of my head and tried to tread water for as long as I could. 6 months later, our engagement ended, and a friend who knows absolutely everything about me looked at me and said, “you should move in with me. It could just be the change that you need.”

I said a bold "yes." Forgetting that my bank account had barely enough money for a shopping spree let alone rent and a security deposit.

In June, we found a place.

In August, I moved in.

And here we are, September 15, 2015. I've been here exactly one month, and I have not stopped to breathe. And I don't regret it at all! I'm doing audience services for PRiMA Theatre, which was the best leap of faith I could have taken. I've transitioned from working part time in a theatre (Shout out to my State Theatre family! I miss you guys!) to working full time in a boutique as a stylist (getting paid to suggest clothes to people? Absofreakinglutely up my alley.) And this time next week, I will have started training at my new full-time job at the American Music Theatre as a box office associate! A job in my field that I LOVE and that I'm darn good at too!

I have had one day "off" since August 15th, and honestly, as someone who has [regrettably] taken pride in being a bit of a slacker, I'm enjoying stretching myself thin. (Although I'm exhausted beyond words.)

But sometimes being busy is an excuse to not focus on the hard parts of transitioning.

In the last two months, I've had my heart broken, I've had to wrestle with issues of race in the outside world and where/if I fit into those hard conversations, I've been misjudged, argued with, and have argued with myself about my own intentions, convictions and integrity. All of these things are hard to deal with. And then add moving on top of them! I was a mess! I still am. And that's okay.

Admitting that you're a mess (yes, YOU), is the first step to recognizing where you are in life. My roommate has this little window decoration that says "Your beautifully messy complicated story matters. (tell it.)" and I'm pretty sure that's become our motto over the last few years. It's ok to feel lost. It's ok to not know what's coming up even if you have it seemingly altogether. Even though I might seem "set" career wise for now, I'm anticipating more changes and transitions coming up. Because that's the way life works. 

You can't avoid change, you can only react to it the healthiest way you can. Maybe for you that means having someone "on call" who you can vent to--a friend, mentor, or therapist. Maybe that means a visit home to see your mom and have her make you a good home-cooked meal. Maybe that means going on a dating hiatus and figuring out yourself. Maybe (UGH) it means deactivating Facebook and digging into the Bible or a good book study. Maybe it means getting a dog or a cat!

Figuring out what you need to do to keep yourself intact is the only way to survive transitions. Everyone copes differently, but I'm confident that you cannot and should not do it alone. I have my Council of women who I can go to whenever life gets scary. And as weird as it might seem, I'm finally seeing that my mom is one of them. Your mom is less intimidating once you get into your 20s. Trust me.

Having people who know you and that you trust is essential, and super helpful. I'm thankful for all those people in my life; without them I would have drowned in an ocean of uncertainty. Everyone's story is different, and that's what keeps the world so beautiful. We connect over the mess, over someone saying "you too?? I thought it was just me!" Be vulnerable. Surround yourself with like-minded people. 

So, all that to say: change is hard. But it's inevitable. Deal with it the best way you know how.

If nothing else I've written sticks, remember this:

Your story, changes and transitions are important. They're messy, but that's ok. So are everyone else's. They matter, but more importantly, you matter.

Hold on, everyone. We are all in for one heck of a ride!

-S.

14 Things Only Box Office Employees Understand (And things we wish we could nicely tell our patrons)

I love my job, I really do. The people I work with are great, I feel so privileged to come to a theatre everyday and have it be my job. But some days I seriously wonder if people know what my job is really like. It's not *just* selling tickets to events. It's so much more.

1. Just because you, our beloved patron, didn't see a ticket price listed (which is more than likely your error), does not mean the ticket is free. 

2.  Oh look, my ticketing system is freezing as I have 6 people standing in line.

3. I'm sorry it's really really reeeally not my fault that you got mixed information and are asking me too many questions that I can answer in just a few sentences. 

4. The phrase "We rent to anyone who needs a place to screen their film" means just that. 

No we do not have a political agenda for showing two sides to the same story.

No we do not have a political agenda for showing a film about fracking. 

No it's not our fault that your event isn't selling well. I'm seriously JUST the box office girl. 

(What I'm saying here is...please don't shoot the messenger. )

5. No we cannot make special deals with you if they aren't already in the system.

6. It is not our fault that tickets aren't available if you wait until the week before the show.

7.  And no, I can't "open any seats up" for you. You snooze, you lose.

8. Creeping into the caterer's kitchen to heat up your lunch. While there's a meeting going on. 

9. Being genuinely sweet to verklempt older patrons. (The phrase "Kill them with kindness" comes to mind. And then praying they don't actually fall over dead.) 

10. When the person on the phone is looking at the seating chart and tells you what they're seeing. And it's the exact same chart you're also looking at. 

11. Patron, (After seeing you as the only person at the counter): "I'm looking for someone who's in charge..." 

12. When you actually don't have the answer to their question and you have to find someone in charge. 

13. When people come in, talk, and don't actually order tickets. 

14. Remembering that things could be worse. Your day job is in your field, and thank goodness you're not folding tee shirts at a department store. 

(All images from imgur. Except for Anne Perkins and Leslie Knope. That one is from giphy.) 

Diversity in the Theatre: I won't stop speaking up.

Lately, I've been feeling like a broken record. I can count on two hands the number of times I've recently said "white people show" or "shows where the director feels the family unit MUST be white." I understand that by living in Central Pennsylvania, I've kind of limited my options, but I'm dealing with that personally after a swift kick in the pants by someone I respect. (Side note: I'm planning on moving!!!!! More on that in another post eventually!)  
If you know me, you know that the subject of race isn't something I talk about it. I grew up in a white family. I never really thought that I was "less than" or had to work extra hard because I was black.Of course some people think I should take my skin color and let it define me in all aspects of my life. But I'm not going to do that. I don't find my identity in my skin color, I find it in who I am in Christ. But that's also a different blog post for a different time. 

I was recently asked to audition for a role of a middle aged, southern, black man. I didn't want to do it. I felt guilted into auditioning, because, I guess, I was the only black actor around here that people could think of. Which would be cool if the show had been "Race" by David Mamet, and the role was Susan a 20something (maybe early 30s...) black lawyer. But it wasn't. And I didn't audition. I included this in my email to the director, and I meant every word of it two weeks ago, and I still mean them today:  

I think that finding a play with one African American character was very bold, and a very cool decision on your part. On the flip side, as an African American actress who is involved in a community theatre that only seems to pick shows where WHITE families are the main characters, unfortunately, I don't have a prayer of being cast. And then having the option to audition for a show just because I'm black, is cool, I guess, but "being black" isn't really my schtick. I'm a talented actress, and I can do so much more than just look a certain way. And my prayer for the future of theatre is that my son or daughter will not be called upon for a role just because of their skin color. Theatre is moving in such a good direction, when it comes to diverse casting, but I think we who are involved at the community level need to be more conscious of picking shows that can be filled with people of all races and backgrounds, not just a show with a "token black." The world itself is changing...I'm in a serious relationship with a white guy, I have some biracial friends, and some Indian friends and some Filipino friends. We are hard-pressed, especially in the State College community, to find someone who is 100% anything. Diverse backgrounds are becoming the norm in the world, and I believe that theatre should be a direct reflection of life and the world around us. Otherwise, unless we're doing a historic Wilson, or GB Shaw, or Isben, it becomes inauthentic, and more difficult to relate to. Thankfully, a lot of contemporary playwrights are moving in that direction. And they're doing that by writing plays that don't have specific character breakdowns. Which is awesome, because it gives actors of color more of a chance of being involved! 

I'd like to point out that I'm not the only one thinking, talking, and writing about diversity in the theatre. I recently read a great article about the role of theatre critics where diversity is concerned. The Article Overview reads:

Some critics don’t concern themselves with diversity or context, sticking to the subject before them. This is its own form of injustice as well as an abandonment of the critic’s role; to see exclusionary practices and not comment on them is to perpetuate them, but also, to pretend a show exists in a cultural vacuum does a disservice to the role of art. 

I love this. The article goes on to say that the lack of diversity isn't just cultural/background. The theatre is also severely lacking women playwrights, producers, directors, etc...:

Just 17 percent of plays produced in this country are written by women. Since 2000, the annual list of the top 10 most-produced plays averages three female playwrights. (An interesting side note: there’s far more ethnic diversity among these women than there is among their male counterparts, which is great, but leads me to wonder whether this is because such playwrights enable artistic directors to check off more than one “diversity” box.)  

I literally couldn't have written a better side note if I tried. Do we as theatre practitioners purposely stack our decks so we can appear diverse? This honestly hasn't been my experience, but I pray to God it never happens.

There are a few sides to the diversity situation: people who think producers should strive to include all types of people in every show of the season; people who think that the only type of "diversity" we should have is a
"Random Black Girl" in the ensemble of every musical (these people are usually the more old fashioned types of directors); and then there are people who don't think about this at all, which isn't necessarily a problem, but it's not a solution either. 

I'm no expert, but I think the biggest thing we at the local level are missing is a simple dialogue on this issue. I can sit here all day and link you to bigger theatre communities who have devoted entire studies to managing and valuing diversity... but I think I'd prefer to ask the questions myself: 

1. Why couldn't we produce "Race" by David Mamet for a season? Or any other shows like that? (Memphis!! Sister Act!! The Color Purple!!)
2. Why aren't we able to draw a larger diverse crowd to our shows?
3. What if we took the notion of "black people wouldn't have been anything other than maids in the 1930s" and threw it out, and cast a black woman as Reno Sweeney, or any type of lead? 
4. Who says every family unit all has to look the same? I mean, have you seen my parents and siblings??
5. What if we just sat down, and talked it all out? 

I feel like I took the long way to a simple point, but I think the only way to get there is to talk about the hard, and potentially uncomfortable things. Sure, I may talk about it a lot, but that's because it's important to me. As a woman, as an actress of color, and as a human being. 

I truly believe that art is a direct reflection of life, and I think most of my theatre and artist friends would agree. And if we're being truthful, life isn't seeing all white-bread families everywhere anymore. (Biracial, adoptive, and blended families, for example.) So why should our theatres show that? It's a direct misrepresentation of the world around us, and it's not 100% relatable to today's audiences. So even though I'm one person, I believe that I have the power to at least ignite the conversation. Join me, and together, we could change the world. 

******************

More Links: 

Diveristy in American Theater: From Catchphrase to Meaningful Change

Diversity in American Theater: The Mythology of Color Blind/Conscience Casting
On Valuing Diversity, Managing Diversity, and the Difference
"Random Black Girl" Composers: Kooman and Dimond

Year 25: New Year's Edition

Here we are. January 1st. My News Feed and Twitter Timeline is full of people saying good riddance to 2013. Some nicely...some harshly. I don't know everyone's story from this past year, but as I'm getting older, I see more and more people spewing malice at the past 364.75 days. Honestly, I don't get it. Now, that's not to discredit anyone's tragedy, or loss, or extreme challenge; but instead of focusing on how terrible the past year was, shouldn't we be thankful that God saw us through all of our tough times? Sure, it's nice to bury the past and move on, but it's our past that shapes how we approach the future. So as you continue your toast to 2014, remember to take the things that make you say "Sayonara, 2013!" and turn them into applicable life lessons for 2014!

I've seen this quote from Steve Jobs floating around, and I really think it's a good reminder:

As for me, this past year was about growth as a daughter, a girlfriend, a theatre practitioner and a student. I'm not in the habit of making resolutions, but here is the start (and partial continuation) of my Year 25 Active Challenges List:

1. Instead of resolving to hit the gym twice a week, I challenge myself to treat my body as my instrument. I challenge myself to look beyond the things I can't physically overhaul, and focus on the things that are easily modified. 
2. I challenge myself to show more thoughtfulness and gratitude towards those I love. 
3. I challenge myself to approach every audition (4 in the next month and a half!!) as a learning experience. 
• 3a: I will NOT put myself down after an audition. I will learn from my mistakes and correct them for the next time. 
4. I challenge myself to gracefully say "no" to things I know will not be good for my mental stability. 
5. I challenge myself to stop drinking coffee. Completely. 
• 5a: I also challenge myself, to stop indulging in food that I know makes me feel sub-par. 

So those are 5, non-overwhelming things I'm going to challenge myself to do this year. I have many more, but I think 5 was a good place to start. 

What about you? Are you happy to see the New Year, or is January 1st just another day? What are some of our resolutions or challenges? Share them in the comments below! 

An Open Letter: When you take out the "Unity" in "Community"....

...You're left with "Comm" and that doesn't make sense. 
But unfortunately, someone took the "unity" out of community, and it's left me upset, hurt, and fearful. This post could get me into trouble, but to be honest, if I don't write it, I could say these things out loud and it would be far worse. So this is my open letter. (Disclaimer: Please don't consider this a direct call-out. Consider it an observation from the most observational person you know.) 

Dear...well, everyone,
Happy Tuesday and Merry Christmas! I hope your shopping is "wrapping" up and you're getting ready to spend time with family! The last week has been a good one for me. I got to see someone I love portray a very hard role onstage! My boyfriend was cast as George Bailey in "It's A Wonderful Life" and it was so amazing to see him in his first lead! We all know he's talented but this brought it to a whole new level. I'm so proud of him, and the rest of the cast was also really good. But to be fair, I'm a little biased.

What also impressed me about this production was the lack of people who I know love my boyfriend who weren't at the show. I know I shouldn't take it personally, but I'm taking it personally. Guilt trip: You missed a fantastic show, and I sincerely hope you're sad about that. In my clearly non-professional opinion, nothing about this show was unbalanced, or lacking, which is highly impressive.

A Few Questions: #1-Did you not see the show because you HATE feel-good plays? If yes, then you're excused. I don't understand it, but you're excused just the same. #2-Did you not see the show because someone did you dirty? If your answer is yes keep reading. If it's no, I'm giving you the chance to jump ship now.

Over the last few months, I've noticed a considerable amount of tension between adults. I'm just a kid, but nothing gets by kids very easily. There's been disrespect among people in the same profession who claim to be working towards the same goal: bringing people together in the name of theatre. Which, I personally think is an AMAZING thing. Now, I know there are a lot of things I don't know, or won't understand, and frankly, I don't care to know them or understand them. But I do care about people, and that's something that, to me, is far more valuable then ticket sales.
Theatre can't exist without people. But people won't come to the theatre if their expectations aren't met and superseded pre-production, during production, and as the cast is giving their final bow. I know of people who have quit theatre altogether because someone who was in a position of power said something that rubbed them the wrong way. As someone who wants to make a career out of theatre, I say, not cool, man. Not cool.

There's nothing more discouraging to me, a petite kid with big dreams, than hearing and seeing that there is no support or respect for fellow theatre practitioners.
I'm not suggesting that we all have to sit around a campfire, hold hands and sing "You'll Never Walk Alone," but as much as I LOATHE that song, I think the reminder in there is vital. We are never alone, and in theatre, there should be a whole different realm of support. If you love theatre, and truly want to bring it to the masses, causing dissonance within your company should NEVER be an option.

I honestly don't want to live or work in a world of theatre where I will someday have to tell my children that I ended my career because sometimes people don't play nice with others. I want to lead a life that my kids can look at and say, "Wow..she used everything for God's glory, and didn't have to sell out to be happy."
I want to promote the performing arts for all kids of younger generations, and I have a hard time doing that if I know deep down that there are issues that make me uncomfortable.

So this year, my Christmas prayer is that all issues get sorted out in a professional and friendly manner in this new year. I want my friends and I to feel free to travel between venues and companies without feeling like we're betraying one another. I pray that we can all put the "unity" back into "Community Theatre."

God Bless, and Merry Christmas!
Love,
-S.

Year 25: What I've learned so far.

The first few days of being 25 were kind of eventful! I made a new friend in the coffee shop that I go to every morning before work. She complimented me on my scarf, and then I saw she had been reading a Bible, so I stopped her and we chatted, introduced ourselves, and discovered we live on the same street! Her name is Sarah and she's a church planter. Unfortunately, I've been swamped with "Spamalot" (more on that later), so we haven't been able to hang out. Hopefully soon; I'm really encouraged that God put us on each others' pathways!

Some of you may think "25 is just a number, you're not old yet, Star!" But I assure you, I feel old already. I was very sick for a week before my birthday, and by some miracle I was fully recovered for the day itself. I hadn't been eating because I was having extreme abdominal pain and back spasms. I slept for about three days straight. MedExpress was unhelpful, and my parents and sister even came up to be with me. I also had a really bad cold while all of this was happening. There were some dark moments during that week; but I'm so glad that even though my parents were able to come to my aid, Lando was also there by my side. I guess having a tv in the room where I was sleeping was good...he watched football all day and I was able to rest knowing he was there in case I needed something. But that was when I was still 24. 

Everyone asked how 25 felt, and i joked about when my first Quarter-Life Crisis would hit, but I had no idea the impending storm that was headed my way. 

I returned to "Spamalot" rehearsals as the trusty Assistant Stage Manager. I was bummed to not actually be in the show, so assuming a role on the production staff was hard. It's amazing how slowly rehearsals go when you're sitting at a table just following along in a script. It's weird, actually. I would compulsively check my phone only to see that ten minutes had gone by. 

The thing about this show is that the cast is amazingly talented. I had goosebumps just watching them rehearse. And now that we've opened the show, my goosebumps haven't subsided. But what happened during tech week solidified my calling and choice to be onstage. 

I missed our first tech rehearsal. It was homecoming weekend at Penn Sate and I worked from 10-6 on Saturday. Someone was able to cover for me in tech, and take notes, but once I received them, I freaked out. The next day, I called the stage manager and we talked for an hour about the notes and the backstage choreography. She was a whole state away for a wedding, and then I was late for rehearsal. Cue downward spiral. 

Long story short, there was a lot of crying. Also a panic attack. Those are scary, by the way. Especially when you're in front of people who are mostly strangers who don't know a thing about you other than the fact that you've been at rehearsals for this show. I left the building. I caused a halt in rehearsal. Finally, I calmed down long enough to breathe but I still couldn't stop crying. I was shaking and trying to fix everything all at once. (That's my tragic flaw: I'm a fixer.) Kat, the choreographer, who is also a mom, came backstage and talked me down. She reminded me that I just had to do one thing at a time. I apologized profusely to everyone, and ended the day mostly embarrassed. 

I made huge mistakes along the way. Don't get the wrong idea when you read this, but I generally don't make huge mistakes in the theatre. I'm not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but never in my entire performing arts career (since I was 4), have I ever caused a rehearsal to stop functioning. Not even when my best friend and I fought while she stage managed my senior show. We barely spoke during rehearsals, but we always plowed through. To not actually be in a show, and then hold up the actors is a big deal to me, and I've realized that it's because I'm an actor first, kind of a director second, and never, ever a crew member. I would have been mortified if I had been in their place and saw that the ASM was having a nervous breakdown. Like, "who is this chick, and why is she dying right now??" I purposely didn't make it a big deal that I had never been an ASM before until that day. It was apparent that I had no idea what was going on, so I just owned up to that fact. I'm not sure if that caused more sympathy for me, or more strange looks. Either way, it was the truth. And I told myself that I shouldn't be ashamed about it. But I quickly learned that I shouldn't expect to be perfect right out of the gate, and that it's ok to ask for help. Especially in the theatre. Especially when you want to make a career out of it. 

We opened last night, and I'm very happy to say that things went smoothly. There were a few moments where I was just praying that we would get some stuff in place on time. At one point I almost crossed myself (seriously, I do that in moments where I can't find the words to thank God out rightly), and I looked up and saw my crew guy Tony crossing himself abut the same situation. It's nice to have someone backstage who gets me when it comes to Jesus and matters of faith. Especially in theatre. Especially when you feel like you're drowning in the theatre.

The night before, Tony reminded me that God was in control and that was all I needed to hear. There was nothing I else I could do last night during the curtain speech except get on my knees on that dirty stage floor and pray the prayer I always say right before going on. (Or in this instance, cuing the curtain.) "It's out of my hands God. I hand the theatre, the audience and the actors over to you." And, as usual, He followed through. My few moments of panic were replaced with a calm of "do everything slowly." I'm not sure how I got through the show without physically hurting myself, but somehow, I escaped unscathed. (This is rare considering I've hurt myself on the props or set during every dress rehearsal we had for this show.) 

I also want to give a shout out to one of my best friends, Lauren, who is on crew for "Assassins" at Ephrata Performing Arts Center right now. She's also an actress doing crew for the first time, and we've been texting about our experiences. I'm glad for the opportunity to bond with her over this whole situation. Everyone go see "Assassins!" 

I know what you're all wondering: "So, Star, would you ever do it again?" 

Short answer: no. 

Long answer: I'm so grateful to Amber for having extreme and crazy faith in me that I could do this, and I'm so glad that Year 25 started so far out of my comfort zone that I couldn't even see it. But this is not what I'm called to do. There is a certain personality type that is perfect for the position of ASM, and I'm not that type. The biggest lesson I've learned through al of this is that everyone has their talents, and just because you're a "theatre person" doesn't mean you can assume that everything you do will be 100% right away when you're in that atmosphere.

I've never been the type of actress to snub crew people (most of my friends have a tech emphasis and an acting emphasis), but this experience has given me a new respect for the curtain pullers, and backstage staff. But I'm ready to change out of my all black clothes, and assume a more colorful role. It's been too long, and I have a feeling that after this, my life and positions in the theatre has no where to go but up! 

Theatre: Rant edition.

A few weeks ago, an article came across Twitter with the title: Heroic Theatergoer Smashes Cell Phone, Gets Thrown Out. Of course, I'm all about hearing how people handle things themselves, especially when it comes to events in or about the theatre. (Seriously, before you continue reading this post, read that article. It's hilarious.)

 Everyone hates noisy audience members. There's nothing more distracting than someone who is not respecting the actors or the rest of the audience. Common courtesy, that we're all taught in Kindergarten, says that you shouldn't interrupt or talk over other people. Wait your turn. In the theatre, that translates to: As long as someone on the stage is talking, or performing action, your trap should be SHUT.

So let me tell you what happened to me last night. And I'm going to do it with Storify. (Which is really cool and good for putting your long Twitter stories/rants. all in one place.)

So. Please. Think about the people around you when you're an audience member.

 It's distracting to everyone,

 including the actors, and they are not paid enough to have you yapping in the seats. 

Thank you. 

Dreamspace -5/19/2013-

I walked onto the stage.  There was a man at the table

There was a body on the ground, bloody; bruised; beaten. 

he said "You know she would have wanted me to do this to her." 

Instantly I knew where I was. 

Everyone knows not to think about your dreams. Or you'll loose them. 

I refocus. Two more men at the table. It was clear who the one was:

rich. status. wealth.

But you could tell it was all fading into the past

And then I saw her; there she was. 

The most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

Anyone you talk to knows that she is tragically wrapped up in a beautiful lie of a life.

I sat next to her, suddenly aware of my large sweatshirt and sweatpats. 

She was clad with diamonds; pearls; love; tragedy.

I took her hand. 

She pressed mine against her cheek. 

I did the same. 

She looked deep into my eyes. 

And I wept. 

The rich man placed his hand on my shoulder and directed my attention to the slats in the back wall.

"There it is. See it? It's blinking. Like a heartbeat." 

The Green Light. 

I wanted to go there. I wanted to follow it's pulse, I wanted it to sweep me away. 

In my awakespace I knew that it was real at one time. I didn't know if it still existed. I never longed to know.

But seeing it now, I needed to go there. 

The beautiful woman drew a ragged breath, and said those iconic words: 

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." 

There is a beat; darkness; applause. The magic is gone.

 The icons fade. 

The body had slipped away, changing into curtain call clothes, I assume.

 I'm left with normal, everyday people, dressed in parts. 

We gather for our bow. 

I realize it's a dress rehearsal. 

I approach and do a goofy curtsy. 

We all stand centerstage;

 laughing; joking; talking about sports. 

Everything-- normal. 

We get lectured on curtain call etiquette. 

a boy questions: "Wait, we have to grab hands? Who does that anymore?" 

"Every Broadway cast." i reply. 

I turn to face the back of the stage. 

The light is gone. It was just a lighting effect.

Ironically, without it, my hope fades.

What do I trust now?

***

I sigh 

and 

I'm back. 

My awakespace slowly creeps in, and I reflect on the details. 

I realize:

 Even when I awake, I'm drawn to it. 

I'm determined: 

Someday, I will chase, and catch, that green light.

Working Theatre Manifesto

This was my final, working manifesto for my senior seminar in the fall of 2010. It's pretty self-explanatory. Questions/comments always welcome. 

Theatre is what I thrive on, and what motivates me. It’s where I can go and be completely surrounded by people who have a passion for the same things I do. 

I am wired to create. 

David Mamet, in his book “True and False,” says "Art is an expression of joy and awe. It is not an attempt to share one's virtues and accomplishments with the audience, but an act of selfless spirit."  He tells me that I have a gift to share; not for my own good, but for the good of the people observing the art that I have created.

When Liesl and I led a kid’s theatre camp at her church, one of the campers, AJ, completely captured my heart. On opening night, we all stood in a circle and joined hands to pray, and AJ was the second person to pray, and what he said moved me to tears. The simpleness of hearing a child say “God, help us to remember when we’re performing tonight that we’re doing it for your glory” struck a chord deep within my spirit. I have carried that sentence in my soul ever since. What AJ said is going to be a constant reminder for me as I continue my life and work in the theatre.

The theatre I believe in involves a give and take relationship. In a production, no matter what role a person is playing, they are constantly asked to pour forth and take in ideas, emotions, reactions, directions. Theatre, while not always outrightly asking the audience to participate, still requires some sort of emotional response from the spectators. Todd Johnson says “theatre (like “sacramental” or presence filled worship) is a process that demands our participation.” In the same way, our relationship with God begs, pleads, pines for some kind of response from Him. 

The theatre I believe in is honest, and I know that the biggest, most difficult gift to give is that of honesty. God requires of us our whole hearts, and I feel that as theatre artists we cheat the audience if we are not completely honest in our performance, or presentation of our gifts. Being  open to anything that happens onstage is the epitome of honesty. I have learned that while working with a scene partner I can find honesty within them, and then together, we can convey that honesty to the audience.

Theatre must be an open line of communication; between the director and actors, the actors and the audience, and ultimately, between God and His children. We have to remember that what we do we do for God’s glory, and for the enjoyment of others; but it shouldn't be an inward achievement checklist for us to cross off.

The theatre I believe in is spiritual. Why? Because there is no denying that we are spiritual beings. An article in Relevant Magazine stated: "True art taps into the spiritual realm. When artists are being authentic, they reflect the truest expression of who they are--either revealing aspects of their weakness or reflecting the heart of their Creator. Those expressions can inform our spiritual journey, and God can reveal Himself to us through them. Because we are spiritual beings, all true art-even secular eventually reveals the sacred."

I want to be spiritual; in my art and in my life.

I want to be honest; onstage and in offstage.

I want to be creative; to reflect the work of my creator,

 for the enjoyment of the audience; not for my own enjoyment.

I want to do all of these things for the Glory of God.