Broadway ( Off, Off,Off )--Here I Come

Well, dear readers, I just looked at this blog and realized that I haven't written anything AT ALL since early October. I guess I needed a break.

But what can she be doing that would warrant that, you're asking ( or not... )? Well, I'm immersing myself in the arts. I had decided to continue my writing this Fall but without a classroom structure or mentor. And I decided to take an acting class at NYU. Both were good decisions.

However, the decision to study acting was a larger bite of creativity than I had expected. By that I mean I had forgotten how much I like performing. I began acting in high school. In my high school, the drama department was almost as important as the athletics department, so the drama coaches were very good, and the opportunities to do good roles were also good.

Over the four years, I was in Oklahoma, had one of the leads in High Button Shoes, and Arsenic and Old Lace, and several one acts. But the play I cut my teeth on, The Curious Savage, was a life-changing event. I was an awkward, sort of chubby 14 year-old with just enough confidence to audition for the production. I think that my mom had nudged me a bit, too.

I played the part of Mrs. Paddy, a senile, old woman who hated everything in the world--which she would announce as she came tearing into the day room of the psych ward where she resided. Oh, and she MOSTLY hated lights, which she would promptly turn off on her way in.

On opening night, I put on my costume--dowdy straight corduroy skirt, white blouse and wildly flowered smock, black stockings and orange sneakers. My hair was teased so that it stood straight out and tinted silver. I waited for my first entrance on Stage Left. "I hate everything in the world," I began. "I hate cuspidors, pachyderms..." as I rushed into the day room. Only this time, I slipped on the oriental rug, a new prop that hadn't been there during dress rehearsal.

As I recovered from the near fall, I took a deep breath. I finished the list of all the things I hated as they were written in the script. And then I added, face toward the audience: "But most of all.... I HATE RUGS."

That's the night I found out that I was literally "good on my feet." That's also the night I decided I wanted to be an actor.

Well, life didn't always let every dream come true. And that was one of the dreams that had to be put on hold.

My mother talked me out of theater. "You know, dear, that isn't a profession that, well..er...ladies go into." My father wanted me to go into nursing. Well, the rest is, as the cliche says, history.

But now, I'm in a new place, a place where I can pick up on some of the passions that I've foregone until now.

I'd write more but I've got ot practice my monologue for my drama coach. I present on stage next Tuesday night--and I want to be sure I don't slip.

M.C.