On March 12, 2020
For my lunch break, I headed off to a 1:30pm Orthodontist appointment for a free consultation to get an estimate on how much braces would cost. The estimate was costly and the office was much too clean, so I said I would think about it. I picked up the dry cleaning for the Costume Shop on my way back to Nova, and then got back to work doing the final touches on all the Merrily costumes. I was off at 4pm and then worked on some readings I needed to finish by 5:20pm for my Financial Management class that night.
My syllabus tells me that Part 2 of our major project was due that day so I most likely procrastinated the readings in favor of finishing the project and was meant to catch up an hour before class. We were discussing “Fiscal Condition Testing & Benchmarking” - a fancy way of saying "is the nonprofit doing well financially or not and how do we measure that consistently so that we know what "good" or "bad" is for that company, especially when a company can be so specific and hard to compare to other companies.
I remember that we all had heard some news about COVID-19 that morning and we were all "playing things by ear." My professor's tone in Financial Management had been solemn and filled with rage as he mentioned being forced to come in to class despite the clear warnings from other countries that we should quarantine immediately. I didn't really know what was going on - none of us did - so I kept my head down and went with the flow. Even at rehearsal, I didn't quite grasp the magnitude of the situation.
My class lasted until 7:20pm and then after a short dinner I was off to Merrily Rehearsal. "Merrily" being "Merrily We Roll Along" a musical by Stephen Sondheim. Thinking back to my habits then and the lack of time, I most likely stopped by the student cafe across from the theatre building and grabbed a large order of sweet potato fries as my dinner. Our rehearsal officially began at 8p, and that night we were called for a complete run through of the show focusing on scene changes as we had some particularly difficult stairs to roll around during transitions.
I remember my friend had been missing from rehearsals and returned that night with a very pink colored eye claiming an eye infection that was resolved. I was panicked by the news of the potential contagious disease on the horizon and spoke with my Acting Representative in a very concerned tone asking if they could reassure me that it was an eye infection and not the very contagious "Pink Eye." My acting representative patiently heard my concerns and verified it was indeed an eye infection and I needed to calm the f*** down. I resolved into my tired, grouchy, tech-week self as we were scheduled to tech Merrily that weekend and would open Sunday to a hopefully mildly pleased audience.
As the end of the night approached, we approached the end of the show, which finishes with a hopeful song about possibilities and endless opportunity. The song out of context is very happy and many use it for graduation ceremonies hoping to send graduates off with their dreams and wishes still in tact. Unfortunately, the show was a story told in reverse, so by the time we get to the last song it seems less hopeful and more of a hopeless tragedy that we all know will never come true and the question remains - how did we get there from here? How did we lose sight of our dreams? How is it so easy to chase what others want for us rather than the most desperate desires of our hearts? Or are those desires our desires? What did we really want? Did we know, ourselves? Is that still what we want? Or did we want something that wasn't quite what we expected and now it feels like it is too late to turn around? Either way - it's a very existential show that makes you question your life and your choices.
So, there we were, rehearsal time running out, the show running out, with the entire ensemble onstage. We were all looking "at the stars." In the show, we were meant to be in our pajamas on various rooftops looking at Sputnik. The three leads were up on a 2nd floor scenic element, but the rest of us were all on the ground floor. Our feet were grounded on the same level as the first row of the audience's feet, heads titled up as we looked out above the audience at all of our hopes and dreams.
I liked to use this moment to be in what my Directing professor would call "Soft Focus," taking in my full field of vision,
observing our perfect formation onstage,
taking in the energy of each person "in the zone" as our breaths and heartbeats synchronized and we all tried to capture this moment,
staring out at the walls of Vasey Theatre,
at the audience,
at the professors and students wiping their eyes,
at the singers stifling their cries,
at every audience member that had ever sat there,
at every professor who had ever taught there,
at every student orientation,
at every cast,
at every certification,
representation,
presentation,
preview night,
speaker's night,
blocking rehearsal,
strike,
build,
focus,
every genie,
every lift,
every cat walk,
every ladder,
every hammer,
every drill,
every hard hat,
every paint drop,
every missed step,
every "Line?!"
every "we haven't got time,"
every "thank you, five,"
every graduate student trying to stay alive,
every scream of frustration justified,
every time that we lied,
every Shakespearean bride,
every Bonnie and Clyde,
every Sally Curly,
every Brian G. Morgan,
every curtain,
every undergraduate student who walked backstage looking for a bathroom or a quiet place to study,
every student who decided to go down the staircase that led to the theatre even if we turned all the lights off because they think they are a night-stalking vigilante,
every time we slammed into the mattress strapped up against the brick wall that is our stage right exit,
every time we went up and down that ramp,
every time we had to use the same bathroom as the audience,
the tile floors,
the black curtains getting stuck in the doors,
the backstage heaters,
the pipes covered in white gaff tape with names of previous actors,
the blue lockers that no one ever owned,
the green room that wasn't really green,
the large show posters that haunted the walls,
the well worn microwave,
the SM kit,
the Pumpkin Spice JoJos,
the electrical outlet right by the water jug that always overflowed,
the giant industrial sewing machine dust laden in the men's dressing room,
the air conditioner unit in the window turning our dressing room into an ice chest,
the heated lights,
the LED candles,
the corsets,
the girdles,
the hairspray,
the curling irons,
the golden snitch hat,
the white go-go boots,
the it's the "Best — !
It’s the first — !
It’s the finest — !
It’s the latest — !
It’s the least — !
It’s the worst — !
It’s the absolutely lowest — !
It’s the greatest — !
It’s the single — !
It’s the only — !
It’s the perfect — !
It’s the —,"
future,
it's the past,
it's the "hope I don't fall on my a$$,"
it's the students forced to attend the show,
it's the patrons mistaking one black actor for another with no apologies,
it's the marquee,
it's the tiny lobby,
it's wine down wednesday,
it's hookman posters in the bathroom stalls,
it's swealtering heat in Dramaturgy,
or the sauna in Script Analysis,
it's never knowing until you needed to know but still wanting to know so you could know,
it's the comp,
it's the final,
it's the paper,
it's the superobjective
it's the "but WHAT DO THEY WANT?"
it's the evidence
it's the dry erase board
it's the "on a scale of french to german"
it's the german on the streets, french in the sheets
it's "The ensemble will know when to stop,"
it's the flocking
it's the "but what classes do I actually need to finish my certificate in nonprofit management and when are they offered?"
and "Why don't I get the emails that everyone else does?"
and Google Docs
and Movie Nights
and writing Christmas cards
and cutting snowflakes
and being part of the packing but not the move,
it's the bitter bitter taste of jealousy
and insecurity
and comparison
and isolation
and community,
it's the graduate study lounge no one used to go to,
it's the library,
it's trying to prove something you already proved by getting in the door,
it's you can relax now,
it's just breathe,
it's just keep swimming,
it's - oh, but don't use the word "just" because Valerie hates that,
it's chai tea,
it's LEGACY,
it's Biff
and Stella
and Stanley
and Corey
and the city of bones
and Celia 4 ever and ever
and this isn't even real Japanese
and baddass sword fights
and stabbing Caesar
and Ethan's puns
and Alex's brilliance
and Gabriel's hats
and Kale's killer looks
and Harry's kindness
and Jay's deep sympathy
and Angela's cheetah pants
and Michael's baseball
and Valerie's hair
and Janus' "how long have you worked here?"
and James' miracles
and Melissa's smile
and "MEG JONES!"
and Tina's splits
and Aly's resilience
and JB's charm
and Asaki's "it's like Wasabi"
and Ilia's persistence
and Ed's dry humor
and Bess being your cheerleader for life
and Chelsea's hair flips
and Peter's California laid-back-ed-ness
and Kim's photos
and Elisa's care
and Eileen's love for all of us being there
and Kevin's ability to literally do anything
and Parris' professional mediation skills
and Jake's earrings shaped like the screws he drills
and Sharri's gallons and gallons of blood
and Jerry's "HOLD PLEASE!"
and John's rockstar self
and Rosemarie's unfathomable skill
and Hamlet's ridiculous last name
and that night multiple people ate the chicken tenders before She Loves Me and I was handing out Pepto Bismol like it was Powerade at a 5K
and the wardrobe girls
and "My socks are still wet"
and all the undergrads who put up with our crazy
and the bursar
and the bookstore
and the help desk
and all those stairs
and rolling chairs
and vegan pizza on tablecloths on giant tables
and walking tacos
and "why do they have three boxes labeled BIRDS"
and the sounds of the echoing hallway
and bathrooms that were too small
and the pregnant women trying to get in and out of them
and washing your dishes in the girl's bathroom even if you had a penis
and never really getting to go to the Christmas lighting ceremony
or ride the carriage
or see the horses
and choosing all of this even if you had to do it over again.
And we sang, "Our Time."