“Some days are diamonds

Some days are rocks”

 

Two years ago today, I was serving as a dramaturge for a production of Twelfth Night.  I was also assistant stage manager and a costuming assistant – these things happen when you can’t say no.  Shakespeare in the Park – a lovely July afternoon.

Two hours before curtain, the actor playing Fabian became ill and needed to go to the hospital (she was in the military – and she’s kind of a bad-ass – so if she needed to go, you knew it was serious).  Community theatre being what it is, we didn’t have a roster of understudies.  The director asked an actor with a smaller part, but he said he did not feel confident switching.  I think the director was considering going on himself.  I said that I would do it.  

It made sense, really.  I’d been at most every rehearsal, I had done detailed annotations on the script, and I’d spent many nights reading parts when people needed to miss.  We even had roughly the same build, so I could fit into the costume.  And, once upon a time, I had been an acting major.  I hadn’t been on a stage in nearly 20 years, but the show must go on, right??  So I crammed like hell and prayed that I wouldn’t throw up.

I didn’t have all the blocking down – and I missed a few lines – but I did manage to get both the longer speeches correct.  It felt amazing.

It made me remember how I loved acting – the fun of live theatre, the joy of the words.  I started acting when I got the leads in my third grade class plays (head pilgrim’s wife and last year’s rag doll, if you must know) – mainly due to my memorization abilities.  Since that evening, I’ve done a couple of local plays (I’ll spare you the Cabaret stories for tonight).  It’s a singular experience, and one I used to enjoy immensely.  I’m glad I got to remember that.

 

A year ago today, I was confined to the house recovering from major surgery – and shocked to hear that a friend had died suddenly and tragically in a bicycle vs car accident.

That sort of thing gives us a very different perspective.

People always talk about living after losing someone – “you have to live for ___ – he/she would want you to!”  It’s a weird way to try to jolt ourselves out of mourning.  To convince ourselves to embrace life even though we’re miserable.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately because well, there’s the current state of the world, for one.  But I’ve also lost two friends in the last month, and I’m struggling.  Trying to “live for today” and “make the most of your life!” gets heavy sometimes.  Especially with the stress fatigue that we’re all feeling thanks to the party that is 2020.  

How do we hold on to the feeling, that need to do more and be more and drink deeply of life – without letting it make us maudlin?  How do we keep it encouraging rather than a burden we are not fulfilling?  How do we make it something we are glad to feel despite the pain?

Sadly, I do not currently have the answers.  Though I suppose we can take wisdom from Sleepless in Seattle – and just keep getting up, breathing in and out, and trying.  That’s what we owe ourselves – to keep going.

 

“Some things are over

Some things go on

Part of me you carry

Part of me is gone”