I'm ordained. And not much for reruns, so I'll keep this bit short. In a bizarre twist in the plot of my life, I decided to become ordained over the internet. There was good reason for it, but the purpose of the ordination became moot soon after and now the certificate sits idly on the buffet table in the dining room. I keep thinking that I might just pop over to the state office and become vested to actually perform weddings. You know, just for grins.
Not that I'd just start officiating, but I like the idea that I could. That I might be so humbled as to preside over the wedding of friends or family. I've been the best man a few times now, and so now I guess I'm looking to upgrade. Plus, normally it's just people like priests and ship captains who can do this. And since I don't own a boat (yet) and I'm not willing to accept permanent celibacy, this is like the next best thing.
So I got ordained. But as I said, it was all for naught as the couple I had planned to join together in holy matrimony (or cyber matrimony?) opted for something a little more traditional. Vegas baby! Vegas!
Me an Vegas. We don't gel yet. I'm always there with family. And I'm sorry, but it's just too odd to see a burlesque review with my parents sitting shotgun. We're not... well, they're more like peers now than they used to be. I love them dearly, and while we're inching closer to "friends" --- still not sharing a Jack and Coke at Les Folies Bergere with them. 48 hours in Sin City. Flash-seared under the 112° sun. No sinning what-so-ever. Life lesson No. 1,265: Don't go to Vegas in July. Just don't.
I do ponder when I will reach that comfort level with my parents that I envy in my other friends. They're probably wondering how I've gone through life not drinking, not swearing, and not once talking about sex. The ordination probably seemed quite normal to them thinking about it.
Interruption of flow. The message light on my work phone is having a little siezure. It's been doing that all week. I have ignored it fully for probably longer. Some message that hasn't warranted my time. Yet I let it flash. I don't delete and I don't call it up. Voicemail limbo holds it snug against her bosom. And there it will probably stay.
In the month between my last update and this post (a month that passed by with the relative speed of a Cheetah on steroids) I've been busy with Project 10. To quote Johnny Ensemble: WOW! The picture there is of the Blue Team rehearsing a short-play I wrote called "Holiday Idols". Project 10. What can I say? It's a little sad that it's over already. Three months in total between all the writing, prepping, and producing. Three months for a few hours of theatre. And absolutely worth it.
Truly a fantastic experience. It was... transcendiary. I couldn't possibly emote the flurry of sensations coursing through me that night and in the days since. I've done theatre before. Been in many shows. Traveled and won awards for it. I've even seen my work on stage.
But this time... it was different. This time... it was inspiring.
I noted on my Facebook the other day that I woke up and realized kinda what I wanted to do with my life. Whatever it is, it's pretty much some amalgam of Saturday night and the past few months. The premiere of new work. A troupe of actors and directors who care about the words. A packed house.
My best friends sitting beside me.
Theatre Daedalus took flight this past weekend. And with the help of my co-founders, Michael and Jaclyn, it's going to keep soaring. I know this because of Saturday night. No more questioning. It's not a matter of "ifs" anymore. I just know.
Oscar Wilde once wrote that "One's real life is often the life that one does not lead." Saturday night... I saw a glimpse. I saw what could be. What will be. And there's no going back. If there was ever a voice in the back of my brain that quietly and softly suggested that growing up to be a marketing director who Chairs nonprofit boards and drives a Volvo—a beige one—would be a good thing... that voice has just been silenced.
No more wanting. No more planning. No more... waiting for everything to clear up. A path has been set. My real life is just up the hill kissing the horizon. And sometimes that hill feels like a wall of ice five miles high. Like Everest, I'm sitting at the last encampment and it's those last few meters that are the real bitch. But there's the summit. I can see it. And I'm not closing my eyes. Not anymore.
Project 10 set something loose. I want to tear into everything in my life, rip it open and examine it from the inside. See what's working and what's not. Gut the things that hold me back. Remove the baggage. Clear the clutter. Fuck the detractors. And climb my Everest.
I completely agree: Project 10 was a really, really cool night of theater. You three playwright/producers deserve so much credit for what you were able to accomplish.
ReplyDeleteFirst: the writing. The plays you three created and selected were wonderful, covering the full gamut: from the broad and farcical, to the poignant and heartbreaking -- even undertones of action/adventure and sci-fi in a few of them just for good measure. In some of the scripts, the narrative was quite complex and sophisticated. And you took chances. One show in particular comes to mind, where you decided to let the audience interpret the symbolism rather than explicitly spelling it out for them. Each script told a complete, satisfying story in a very brief period of time.
The layout of the evening was also extremely well done. The order of the shows, the transitions from comedy to drama -- it's like putting together a good mix tape (to steal from the movie High Fidelity -- and from whomever it was that reminded me of that analogy recently). There's an art to it and you three have the gift. Among the many inspired ideas was the inclusion of singer/songwriter Gretchen Pleuss in the line-up: her beautiful, soulful, ethereal voice capturing and heightening the spell already cast that evening.
From the simple but consistent costuming of the actors to their placement around the stage when not performing, the whole night turned out looking very polished and professional, much more so than I would have imagined with little budget and such a short turn-around time. It all seemed very well thought out and executed.
There's more to say, but since this is supposed to be a comment rather than a blog post, I should wrap this up. Let me just conclude by saying that I was one of the performers that night. One of the most enjoyable parts of the evening for me was watching the other teams in action. Up to that point, the groups had been separated from each other during the rehearsal process; so that night, we really got to experience the shows with the same fresh eyes as the audience. Everyone seemed "on", everyone was focused (the performers and the crew alike). The mood cast that evening really lingered after the final bow; audience members I've spoken with since then echo that sentiment. I can't think of a higher compliment than that.
Congratulations! It was a pleasure and honor to have been a part of Theatre Daedalus' debut performance.