Strolling through life feeling the squeeze of discomfort lends itself to pining for things past that brought feverish passion and life to me.
In junior high and high school, I was in the Drama Club. Like a lot of girls, I wanted to be an actress. I remember back then that I had my eye on the silver screen, but I imagined myself more a Broadway sort of gal. (I can't sing, so yeah, that went kaplooie.)
In my graduation year, the drama teacher suggested I should* attend college in New York City at the American Music and Drama Academy (AMDA). She told me I had a full scholarship awaiting me -- I just had to show up for a reading in Dallas (I was living in El Paso at the time). I was naive enough to believe her, yet there was a strange facet to the relationship I shared with my drama teacher. That facet was potent enough to create an air of suspicion, or at the least a hesitation, about her suggestion.
My memory becomes pretty fuzzy of events following. I remember that I received an invitation letter from AMDA that validated what the drama teacher told me. I was not allowed to go to the Dallas reading. Over the summer, I got the scholarship offer. I wasn't allowed to accept it, so, a chance at "living my dream" passed by me.
The following summer, again, I amazingly got yet ANOTHER full scholarship offer to attend AMDA. Still, I was unable to accept.
I trust the process. It's not a secret that I believe that wholeheartedly. But, there are certain events and dreams that linger, and being on stage is one of those "events" for me.
Every time I attend a play or a musical, it's a bittersweet outing. I cry easily. I think subconsciously I place the tears in appropriate places so that my grief for not being one of those actors looks more like I'm empathizing with the scene. Truly, my heart ACHES. It's usually hard for me to watch the shows, but there's nothing that will keep me from going once I am in possession of a ticket! Undoubtedly, my mind slips back to being an 18 year old girl full of dreams and then the wondering begins: I wonder what I would be doing right now if I had fought for my independence 20 years ago? I wonder where I'd be living? I wonder if I would've ever been trained to sing -- at least good enough for backup parts? I wonder ...
... and, there is a plethora of good and right and spiritually valuable answers that validate that I am where I am supposed to be right now. But still...I bleed at times during stage performances; and at "Mary Poppins", this time was no exception. Seeing My Little One be veritably unimpressed (a.k.a. over-tired as evidenced below) is one of the manyMANY reasons I'm living in Dallas, Texas, a mom of two stunning girls, married to a good man, doing what I do day in and day out....
*should is filled with fantasies, so I've recently learned. Looks to be true in this case....
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