"I Know It's Pathetic but Those Were the Greatest Nights of My Life"

I've had an estranged relationship with the stage. And with my own self.

I was in a play recently. My first time acting in a play since I was 19. 16 years ago. It was a humbling experience. It felt really really weird. Sometimes a good weird, sometimes a bad weird, but never not-weird. This was a musical produced by the same junior college I attended when I was 19. Most of this cast was in that age range, so I often felt like some awkward old guy. I couldn't make most of the rehearsals. I ended up not having any lines, and was in a few dance numbers (I hate dancing). 

It became apparent to me at the show's end that many cast members were experiencing the greatest days of their lives. It was bittersweet being a background character in this show, as well as a background character for this impactful time in these young folks' lives. And I have a lot to say about this.

The photo at the top has a background story.

I was involved in a local production of The Laramie Project in the summer of 2008. I hadn't started my senior year of high school yet, but I found myself in this show mostly consisting of college students. Those older actors were both influential and intimidating to me. A lot of the show's themes went over my sheltered head at the time, but I was definitely learning about the real theatre experience. 

The cast all pitched in to buy a gift for our director. It was a classic director's chair. We presented it to him on opening night. This grown man sat down and teared up right in front of all of us. There was a love in the room that hit me deep down in an unprecedented way.

That same Laramie Project director was the director for this musical I just did. I looked around his office and saw that he had still kept that chair, all these years later. 

We actually performed The Laramie Project again, in January 2009. A lot of things clicked for me this time. It was among a string of important acting experiences for me, and I genuinely felt like I was growing as a person. It's hard for me not to see age 17 + 18 through a rose-colored glass. Although there was a stretch of months to end my senior year that still strike me as the most obviously pivotal stage of development in my life. 

There have been a few stages of my adult life that destroyed me. All of which have been seemingly non-threatening life events I signed myself up for. Starting college, finishing college, serving an LDS mission, changing jobs... I seem unable to properly adjust to anything. I've struggled to see the point of any of my adult life experiences, as I can hardly recall what it's like to have "gut feelings," or any form of self-confidence that isn't merely an aesthetic of the real thing.

Looking at my life at age 18: I don't think I had a best friend, I was fairly isolated, and I definitely didn't have a girlfriend. But I had a lot of friends, I felt things deeply, and my young life was centered around acting. I know it's pathetic, but those were the greatest nights of my life. 

I often wonder if any of my friends from those days also consider that time to be the best days of their lives. I'm certain that was the case for some. But we've all handled life changes differently. All my interpersonal problems I had back then have only amplified with age, as opposed to me figuring out how to actually grow up. In fact, with this musical I just did, I felt awkward around all those 19 year-olds. Not because I felt like I was too old for their company. But because I felt too immature for my age.

For what it's worth, I freaking loved the cast of this show. I just wish I knew where I fit in with them. I was successful at acting, but that was an extremely long time ago. And as for the technical side of things, I actually have a Bachelor's Degree in stage management. But I dropped it like a rock 9 years ago, and I don't remember anything. It's been difficult for me to truly learn anything and keep it, my whole adult life... I'd like to think I could've been some sort of wise theatre veteran to these young folks, but I'm kinda just not. I ultimately felt these weird back-and-forth moments of nostalgic happiness and hopeless alienation. I was anxious enough that it seemed impossible for me to focus or "lock in" onstage, like I used to. But dang... I think I might have learned something.

I think I want to get comfortable with theatre again. I think I want to get good at acting again. I think there's a sense of connection with my own self that's tied to the performative arts in a way that only a handful of people reading this can truly personally understand. Not sure how to do this in a more dedicated manner. I really only put a halfhearted effort into this show, and ended with halfhearted results. I want to somehow develop new skills, and reignite my favorite old skills.

Do I just miss being the center of attention? Do I even believe I can "feel" things again? Do I want to do all this in Idaho? A lot of questions here.

Anyways. If you made it this far: Here's a picture of me in the green room looking very happy.