Friday, March 25, 2011

We Were Worried About Vaginas

I haven't been blogging much, reading blogs, or doing much of anything that I usually do. The fact is, I'm sort of a mess. I'm not sleeping and I feel like a zombie most afternoons. I'm snappish with Jarrah, who has certainly noticed ("You're so grumpy, Mommy.") I forget things that people told me 10 minutes ago.

The show is two weeks from yesterday. I am freaking out. It's suddenly become clear to me how many people are depending on me, and I can't think about anything else. I try to focus on my class, or my other show where (so relaxing!) all I'm expected to do is ACT, or taking care of my home and family, but it's all pretty slipshod at the moment. I've been wanting to rant and rave in this space about every development, but it wouldn't be right. Here's a sampling of what went down just yesterday:

1. Prepared and sent a guideline on stage make-up to my cast.
2. Composed a stirring yet firm "pep talk" about rehearsal conduct in these last few rehearsals.
3. About 20 e-mails and one phone call with my production manager, Kari, about such key details as the "show flow" (spread sheet with all our cues and blocking) tonight's schedule, ticket sales, post-show protocol, etc. etc. etc.
4. Phone rehearsal with the wonderful Dr. Jenn, who is tearing it up with her English accent after some coaching from a new British friend of mine.
5. Several phone calls with music director Sasha regarding the @#$%&* situation with finding a guitarist for our opening number.
6. Several texts back and forth with my stage manager, Cynthia, regarding said @#$%&* situation (and proposed follow-up.)
7. More calls to Sasha once my friend Marie miraculously came through with a recorded .mp3 tailored to our song. Hooray!

And that, my friends, was just YESTERDAY.

You might be thinking "Oh, buck up, little camper! Less than two weeks and you can breathe a sigh of relief and take a good, long rest." But in the spirit of my typical push-pull personality, I am feeling melancholy about that, too.

The fact is, right now I'm v. important, as Bridget Jones would say. V., v., important. After April 7th, I won't be. Right now, every e-mail that I'm copied on says something like "after review by Sam" or "with approval from Sam" or "whatever Sam decides." I mean, let's face it--when has that ever been true before? It's a double-edged sword: everyone depends on me, which keeps me up at night, but everyone depends on me, which feels...pretty awesome. If I wave my hand and say "The stage picture will have the cast arranged at various heights on pink tapestried Victorian-style chaises, settees and love seats" (oh yes I did go there) no one laughs or stares or roll their eyes. They all say "Okay, let's make that happen--if we have any difficulty with the load-out meal penalty for the union, do you have a Plan B?"

I love that. In my real life, I often don't get to say what's for dinner, or if I do, a certain someone goes "AWWWW! I don't WANT that!" Right now I just get instant compliance with no back-talk. That's going to be hard to give up.

And I love my gals. I love that they respect me. (At least I think most of them do.) I love that they text me stuff like "Just wanted to say thanks for kicking vag gently!" I love that THEY COUNT ON ME. It thrills me to the core to be counted on. Twenty-two women, all leaders in their own lives, trusting that I will make them look good on that big, cavernous stage, even to the folks in the back row. I strive every day to be worthy of that trust.

One of my cast members e-mailed me today that she's a stylist and would like to give me the gift of styling me for the big night. "I'm tickled pink!" I responded, without irony. But privately, I almost burst into tears. What an honor to be treated like this. When it is over, I want so fiercely to be able to say, not that I TRIED, but that I had a vision--and with the help of my cast and crew--I made it happen.

The show is on Thursday, April 7th at 7:30 at the Birch Theater. Every cent of the ticket sales goes to non-profit organizations dedicated to ending violence against women and girls.


Stephanie said...

You ARE worthy of that trust and you ARE making it happen.

I am recalling the crazy that seems to precede every show, and the successes that's going to be a great night.

As an aside, I continue to be so impressed with your ability to recognize and articulate such a complex jumble of emotion.

Cheri @ Blog This Mom!® said...

From my view, April 7 is not the end of a vision, it's a jumping off point for the next big vision, even if you don't know yet what that is.

You will look back and say that you made this vision happen. And then you will be on to making the next one happen. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

When have you not put your star quality into all that you do?


Cheri @ Blog This Mom!® said...

P.S. Even when your visions haven't turned out as you may have, uh, envisioned, still you write about those experiences with your trademark star quality. See? Star quality. Inside and out.

EWR2SAN said...

You Rock Sam!