I’ve been trying to remember if it’s been 11 years or 12 years. All my old theater programs and scripts are scattered in different old boxes that may or may not have acquired mildew and dust. I want to figure this out, but right now, it’s overwhelming.
I’ve been in one show in the past 11. Or 12 years. I miss the thing I was classically trained to do. Granted, I have an AA degree and then jumped to a “Postgraduate Diploma in Acting” whatever that actually means… and I am pretty sure that piece of paper got lost in the mail at some point from between the time I “graduated” and had to fly home to the USA on September 11, 2002, because that was the only day I could afford to return, because no one apparently wanted to fly on that day, so it only cost me around $300 to fly from London to Copenhagen to Seattle to Spokane. Pretty much all the money I had left. Tragedy turned to luck for me. Morbid. Anyway, I think we were told there was a ceremony at the University (Essex) that my acting school (E15) would be minimally involved in, but honestly, I don’t think any of us attended that. I sometimes wonder if I could possibly get a “reprint” of my diploma in acting… but I kind of feel silly asking, 20-odd years after graduating. Sort of.
I returned to the US and continued to do some theatre, although I was distracted into becoming a worship leader, which nearly ruined my musical theatre voice, but I still don’t think that was a waste of time. I was lost. I didn’t know what to do, where to go next.. I was now $20,000 in the hole after my year(s) in England. Single people can’t just “up and go to NYC” all the time. Sometimes it’s not that easy. Anyway, I missed England. Terribly. Still do. I didn’t want Broadway…well I do and I did…but the West End is still far more appealing to me. The Royal National Theatre. Nothing like THAT in NYC, as far as I know.
I think the first show I did upon my return was Agnes of God. It took place at the Selle Grange just north of Sandpoint, Idaho. In the middle of nowhere. A true “Peter Brook empty space” situation. I played Agnes. I WAS Agnes. These days I have a love/hate relationship with method acting, but I seem to do this thing where I’m sort of method and not at the same time. It’s not Stanislavsky. I don’t agree with most of his doctrine. I digress. But to me, it’s not about method. It’s about me not being there. It’s about the story. It’s not about me. It’s about Agnes or whoever. I think the trap some “method” actors fall into in that within their practice, they end up making it ALL about them. That’s not acting, that’s ego. I hate that. I don’t ascribe to it, and never will. I digress.
The last [full-length] show I was in was the summer of 2022. I was embraced by my friend and director with “welcome back.” She knew it had been hard for me through those years after babies because at first as theatre parents (meaning the parents are the performers), you go, “in a couple years, when they are a bit older, it’ll be do-able.” Like, when they are 2 and 4 maybe. But then those years go by, and it still can’t be managed, and then you say the same thing again, and still you’re lost. Not enough time. Not enough resources. Just be patient. Your time will come. You’re not a failure. You’re 40-something with little tiny kids, because you had them when you were a thousand years old. lol. Please don’t misunderstand me, I love them with my entire life. If you’re a theatre person, I know you understand me. So I won’t worry about it.
I was welcomed back. I was found. I was hopeful. Then more years went by and the worst year of my life up to now. I was lost again. desperately wishing I could walk the boards and escape into the things God gifted me with, to get away from the pain. Which is ironic, because I’ve always been against actors using theatre for therapy. Anyway, it was not to be. for me, a concrete floor full-time. The concrete isn’t as welcoming as the boards or a Marley floor. It’s inherently bleak. Don’t get me wrong…I am grateful for my job at Costco. Even with getting attacked by a member a week before my prolapse surgery. That put me off supervising, among other things, but I still get weird flashbacks from that. I should have made sure that member never entered another Costco again. But he didn’t actually touch me, but came close. I still should have pushed. I still should have done something. I digress. The days after my surgery I sat thinking why aren’t I touring with some company? Why am I being screamed at and backed up against pallets of covid tests by some random man? It’s all messed up. I am lost.
I demoted myself happily to the clothing department. I don’t have to talk all day, so that when I am finally in shows again, I’ll be able to just do my shift, warm up in the car, be ready and not too tired. I’m hoping again. but really, still lost. Nothing on the horizon. I’m 46… still silly me imagines playing Eva Perone. I believe my voice is there and can be great for that role…but who would ever cast a 46-year-old in a lead role who has done one show in 11 or 12 years? No one. It’s weird being here. I sing the role of Mother in Ragtime in my car. For years. When am I going to wake up and realize that will probably never happen. I’m too old. I’m too out of practice (well, except for those hours in the car and those rare times I’m home alone and sing in the basement or the garage)
I am just having a hard time, and I feel stupid crying about how my classical training is going to waste while people’s houses are floating away and people are drowning in the streets. And here’s where I really might make it cringey, because I’ll close by reminding myself that I’m not lost…I’ve never been. every breath I have is from God. Because of what Jesus did for me on the cross, I have eternity to look forward to. Theatre or no theatre. Right now, I need to focus on Him. I’ve been hurt deeply, and grossly misunderstood by people. People are flawed. I’m flawed. I’ve done all of that too. At the end of it all, all I have is Christ.
maybe one day you will see me on the boards again, but for now, it’s Christ and concrete. and contentment.
thanks for reading.
treasures of darkness 