“It’s your first big decision,
The choice isn’t easy to make.
To arrive at a ball
Is exciting and all-
Once you’re there, though, it’s scary.
And it’s fun to deceive
When you know you can leave,
But you have to be wary.
There’s a lot that’s at stake,
But you’ve stalled long enough,
‘Cause you’re still standing stuck
In the stuff on the steps…”
- “Steps of the Palace”, Into the Woods

You ever have one of those days where you woke up, thinking you had it all figured out, but once the frenzy stopped, you realized that you know nothing?

“Lemme ’splain.
…
No, there is too much.  Let me sum up.”
- “The Princess Bride”

Live theatre is an amayzing thing.  Something happens on opening night that is similar to pregnancy amnesia, where you completely forget the hell and the torture that you’ve endured, and you live completely in the now.  The applause, the make-up, the lights, and the adoration fuels you.  And you think, “Ah.. this is good.  This is a good show.”

We had a PHENOMENAL opening weekend.  Great crowds, tons of smiling faces, and kids lining up to meet the Cat-in-the-Hat, Horton the Elephant, Gertrude, and the Pink Bird.  Yes, I have a name, but kids affectionately refer to me as “the pink bird”.  Which, you know, fits.

Lots of REALLY stupid drama backstage, none of which bears repeating on here.  I will say, though, that this has been a killer learning experience.  I’ve learned that respect goes a long way.  I’ve learned that being outlandishly fun backstage can turn a sour dressing room around.  And most importantly, I (forgive the self-indulgence) am a lot wiser than some give me credit for.

I was blessed enough to get a review straight from the target demo’s mouth, when Bryan and The Boy came to opening.  He LOVED it.  Went nuts over it.  And when I came home, was almost timid about approaching me.  He hovered around me, the way he is scared to play with a new toy sometimes.  “I like your eyes,” he kept saying.  They also gave me a huge bouquet of gerber daisies, which made opening night complete.

Today, I feel like a normal person again.  Bryan has been wonderful to take care of me at the theatre, and keeping the house in order at home.  I can’t wait for us to be home at the same time.  Someday.

I wish I had more to talk about, but since I saw no daylight that wasn’t created by a moving light this weekend, my life is kinda boring and narrow.  I’ll see what I can get pissed about before the day’s out.. you KNOW you miss my ranting.

“that I would be loved even when I numb myself
that I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
that I would be loved even when I was fuming
that I would be good even if I was clingy”
- “Be Good”, Alanis Morrisette

I really didn’t realize how emotionally draining this show has been to me.

Last night, I was pumped.  I was in a great mood.  I was ready.  Dress rehearsals are so nerve wracking to me.. it’s like the final practice swing before the first pitch.  The excitement was tangible.  It was great.

It was almost time for Gertrude (our female lead, played by the lovely and talented Nina D. Banta) to make her entrance, and her entrance leads to my song, and she was nowhere to be found.  I raced down the catwalk stairs, twirled around the back corner, and there she stood, hunched over, crying.  Her breath was short and shallow.  And in that freeze of time, no one seemed to be helping her.  “Nina,” I whispered.  She didn’t move.

I think everyone finally realized what had happened, and people flew into action.  I have to say, not to brag, that Bryan and I both handle trauma extremely well.  He was sitting right there, and her seated and stable in a flash.  Miss Carter, who had been dishing with Bryan, had an ice pack out before we knew what was happening.  And I went to cut the orchestra, alert our stage managers, and tell our VBC tech that we’d had an injury.

And while I had something to do, I was fine. 

They carried her into the tech room for privacy and air while they waited for security to come report the situation and determine if a Hemsi was needed.  I stood outside and tried to calm everyone’s nerves.  I smiled and laughed.  “It’ll be fine,” I told them.  And of course, I was thinking.. we just saw our show go down in a blaze of glory.

I should say this: this is the first time I’ve ever worked with Nina.  Of course I knew who she was, and we’d worked AROUND eachother, but I’d never spent any amount of time with her.  And when I watched that little girl go down, it shook me.  HARD.  And I wanted so badly to be in there, holding her hand and calming her.  It was like.. going through this hellish show that had reduced us both to sniveling children had been a stronger bonding force than any show I’d done.

She hobbled out about twenty minutes after the initial injury and took the stage, seated to sing instead of dancing.  She sat quietly in a chair through the whole show, with her sweet boy beside her, tending to her.  And she acted her little tail off, from a corner of the stage.

It was terrifying.

And then I spent the better part of my night desperately trying to convince our tech help to stay, because they’d been treated so badly by our director.  I’m so frickin tired of having to go behind and clean up.  And when I tried to relay the issues we were having backstage and how they could be easily solved, I was told that “it’s none of [my] business” and “it ain’t gonna happen, so stop”.

So I went home and sat in my parked car and cried.  Bawled.  Sobbed.  Boo hooed.  We’ve all worked so hard.  We’ve all put up with so much.  When does it get easier?  When does it get fun?

Oh, it will be fun tonight, she said, while evily rubbing her hands together.