If I Could Do it...

Know what I did today? I woke up later than I planned. Then I drank coffee and surfed social media for a time. Then I got sick of the political crap because let's face it: Trump is an asshat and needs to be removed from the ticket for his gross misogyny and political ineptitude. Further, if anyone on my friends list is voting for him, I would rather not know it as I think very lowly of anyone who even entertains the idea of voting for him. Alas! I then turned to my second Banned Book Week purchase, John Green's Looking for Alaska. Finished it. Then I did a load of laundry, two loads of dishes (dinner was messy last night), and harvested some gourds. I also helped do the accent color on our house and front door. Know what I didn't do? Memorize lines.

Won't do it tomorrow either.

I wish my reason was just regular old procrastination, but it's not. Last Wednesday I went to rehearsal for The Crucible with the excitement that comes from being less than a month out, a week until off book, and the knowledge that I was eager to start in depth character work on Abigail. Instead of our usual circle up deep breathing exercise, our director placed chairs in a circle. I was confused why the chairs circled, but we didn't. Then he made everything clearer. The previous night, two of our cast members who are married and veteran theater types unexpectedly resigned their roles. With less than a month, it was an insurmountable proposition to replace Elizabeth/Ann and Danforth. When our director said that we had no choice but to cancel, I let out an audible "Oh!" I couldn't help it. I was deeply shocked and immediately saddened. My eyes welled up and my ears turned deaf for a time. I was not expecting two theater people to drop and I certainly didn't expect the show to fold. It didn't seem possible to let something that was coming together so wonderfully crumble because of a decision that I simply couldn't comprehend.

Incredulous Goat calls bullshit on your reasoning!

I've dropped exactly three shows in my life. I dropped one musical because of a deep depression and I secured a replacement I knew could pick up my part without issue. I dropped another the first week of rehearsal because I knew the director so well that I simply didn't want to work with him. The last one was more a declining of the role since rehearsal hadn't actually started. I realized the commitment was too much at the time. I understand that sometimes we have to step out and sometimes there are truly devastating reasons for which no one need punish us. However, as my ears started to tune in again, my director diplomatically told us that the couple simply didn't seem able to proceed in the community theater atmosphere and alluded (albeit with classy high road wording) to creative differences with some of the director's choices. He even made a remark that this show was coming together with exciting moments and he wanted to proceed, he wanted to keep shaping the direction it was going, and he wanted me as Abigail. I appreciated that, but then I thought more on it and realized that perhaps they didn't think a 40 year old woman should be playing Abigail. I don't know if that's true, but it came across that way. If that's the case, then they simply didn't trust in the director's vision, and even though I was putting forth some pretty awesome moments, they were hung up on the ages issue--never mind the fact that the real Abigail was only 11. Whatever. I have no real proof of that, and it may simply be my own insecurity since Abigail is not a role I ever saw myself in even when I was 20.

Whatever their excuse, I do not accept it.

Anyway, it was a very emotional night. As we circled up to release the focus, I almost couldn't keep my tears and I felt my lip shiver, and I just wanted to escape. I calmly put on my coat and my scarf, and walked slowly out the truck with my inner monologue repeating, "Just get to the truck. Get to the truck. You're almost there. Do not under any circumstances break down until you are safely in your truck." At which point I crumbled and sobbed for about ten minutes before I finally felt like I could drive home.

It was an ugly cry and I really wanted Poofus. 

He was good when I needed to cry. 

Good cat hugs.

It was awful.

 

We all ugly cry. This was my time.

What's worse though, the next day, the couple sent us all an email about their regret for having to pull out of the show and how they remain passionate about theatre and how they hope they can work with us in the future. What the fuck ever, people. I have no intention to allow that nonsense. I didn't respond. I blocked their email instead. I'm not petty, but I am operating under self-preservation. They have no idea what they've taken from me.

It probably would've been immature to send this in reply, but oh! so tempting.

I haven't done theater for several years. I just didn't have the stamina. I didn't have the faith in local groups. I didn't have the trust in myself to be without physical or mental blockages that I experienced the last few times I had done theater. You see, my lupus, Sjogren's, and fibromyalgia had done so much to my brain and body that I found memorizing lines and interacting with fellow actors too difficult. I didn't want to put my cast members in a position of having to deal with a stand in because my body decided it was time for a flare. For 8 years I stepped aside and simply stopped.
Then the audition notice for this show happened and I wanted it so badly. I wanted to explore the deeper meanings and implications in the way that I always found the answers and themes: performance. I finally said, "Fuck you, Autoimmune Disorders! I'm doing this!"
And now I can't.

Fuck them!

I don't know if there are other motives to their leaving. They didn't elaborate and our director didn't indicate that there was some kind of personal tragedy in play. They just walked away. As theater folk, they had to know what they were causing. They had to know that the show wouldn't go on. They left anyway. I think I'm in the depression stage of things. I had my denial and anger; then we started the bargaining as we tried to figure out how to proceed. There's a potential to postpone production for a few months. Of course, we won't have the ripe political climate nor the fall season, but it's out there.

Quoth the raven...

I think I'm just in depression stage for now. We're in a transition with the belly dancers and now this. I was truly looking forward to being on the boards again. I was actually learning my lines with fidelity, and despite the fatigue, I was managing. I was investigating. I was enjoying the process. The people were good people. The vision was exciting.  I wanted this.

A Winchester hug might make it better.

Sometimes we take chances and they work out. Sometimes we take risks and they don't pan out. I guess this is one that wasn't meant to work out for now. That's not comforting in anyway. It just is. Like I said. I'm in the depression part of this.