If you have participated in the performing arts, you have probably experienced the gigantic sigh of relief, exhaustion and nostalgia that is the Monday after closing. Even when I thought I would be relieved to see a show go on Sunday night (or I can't wait to get "We welcome you to Munchkinland, tralalalalalalalala" OUT OF MY HEAD), by Monday afternoon I miss it.
For the last two weeks, I have had the immeasurable pleasure of putting up a show with a bunch of elementary, high school and college students. I say pleasure because, despite wanting to strangle sundry little necks when the children would not be silent backstage (and 13-hour work days), there was enough laughter, joy, and good work that made the frustration worth it. The worst part about this job is that I fell in love with it, and in five weeks it will be over for real.
I love that about theatre. Three weeks ago, I knew I would be working with three college friends at a local youth theatre for the summer. It was just a job. Today, I have fifty-trillion new best friends that I will genuinely miss come August. Theatre people (the good ones, at least) are just that way. They can be insta-friends because they get each other. If you're those people, you know what I'm saying. The theatre world is special that way, isn't it? It is never just a job. Creating art together forges a bond that makes you miss the rest of the company the Monday after closing. It makes each show special.
That's why I have a theatre degree. Because I want my work hours to be put towards making something beautiful with other slightly strange, loud, goofy people that will (just maybe) change the world.
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