Friday, July 29, 2011

Still haven't found (you guessed it) what I'm looking for-

My facebook profile picture is a still from ISU's production of Rock 'n' Roll.

I look at it and have to look away immediately.

Two reasons:

1) I cannot fathom how much larger my waistline has gotten in only three months, and

2) sadness crashes into my sternum like a wrecking ball every time I think back to those happiest moments of my life.

How does this make sense?

The joy, the fulfillment, that pain, the beauty, the struggle of that show- it was palpable. It was tangible. It still is. I don't know why- I don't think any of us that were a part of it understood what was happening to us- but even up there on that stage, I could feel it slipping away from my grasp- the purity and meaningfulness of what was happening.

There was a tangible loss the moment that show closed. How can something so joyous- so bright- so perfect- bring such an awful hurt with its memory? Isn't that the antithesis of art?

Please understand that I don't mean anything as far as the performance was concerned. Think what you will about the final product- that's your right, and I wholeheartedly encourage it- but the experience, for me, was so life-alteringly beautiful that I weep like a two-year-old denied his post-dinner ice cream every time I hear U2 play that damn song over the speakers at CVS.

But that's the problem. It was life-altering.

I'm still living my life. And it's been altered. But I don't know how to let that change manifest itself.

I spoke to Jake the day after the show closed. Over breakfast, I said to him, "I can't live a life that's not beautiful anymore. I can't spend nine hours a day on the couch. I need to live a beautiful life."

And I meant it. The issue I've found is that it's extremely hard to live beautifully when you're clocking in 40+ hours a week and worrying about your bad credit score.

I'm here. I made it to Chicago. I've been on a few auditions. I've been blessed enough to have been given a beautiful project to work on with a dear friend. What I'm terrified of is that I'll spend the rest of my life looking for what I had for that brief moment.

Go ahead. Say it. Tell me I just have to go for the dream. Tell me I have to audition like it's my job. Tell me we all have to start somewhere.

I know. You're right. I know.

But, please, dearly beloved, tell me how to do it when I don't have the energy to walk back from the El.


  1. Ette

    Endure to the end.

    For those who take that phrase and used it will benefit far better then kings and queens from the marks of the history man has written.

    By this you are doing your duty. Kant would be proud

  2. What you experienced was marvelous -- nothing can change that. But you won't find it again -- you'll find something different. Good in another way. Life altering in another way. So cherish your memory, but stay open to something new. As long as you're looking for what you had, you won't be able to see the new life-altering experience.