The One where It's More Than Just Fun.

I made myself physically ill this morning stressing about things. Unfortunately, I am quite the emotional masochist; the second one thing starts to point in the "wrong" direction, I literally make a list in my mind of everything else that could possibly drive me off into the deep-end. Trust me, I know it's not one of my better qualities.

Responsibility is a scary thing. A scary thing that never stops. Now that I am inching closer and closer to my goals, I'm realizing that I have to become more and more responsible.
After an amazingly therapeutic five days spent with my sweet mother, I'm - forgive the Tale reference - recalled to real life. Dead car battery, Nutrition exams, design projects, class registration, work - it all decided to tumble down early Monday morning.

Thankfully, though, I was able to look back on the last few days spent with my mom and recognize how unbelievably grateful I was for every second I got to spend with her. Even though we spent hours watching movies and driving around everywhere, I don't feel like a moment of it was wasted time. Still, though, not long enough - imagine trying to fit in six months' worth of information into a five-day period. Not so easy.

Then, just this morning, I got an email in my inbox from her with a link attached from The Daily Camera: click here to read it. Along with the link, my mom said (and I hope she doesn't mind my sharing), "Live your dreams, and in the meantime, just figure out how to pay the bills. Love you forever..."

You might understand my writing pattern by now enough to know that it's time for another soapbox moment. I want to talk about something in regards to this article. Please understand that the purpose of this is not to toot my own horn or to toot the horns of performers in general. These thoughts are merely my personal opinions. Truthfully, they are teaching me more humility the more I think about them and nurture them. I know that there are still years and years of work to do and TONS AND TONS of room to grow.

As I've expressed in several entries before, A Tale of Two Cities has been a blissful and spiritual experience for me. Every show I am a part of plays a huge part in my everyday life, and this one is no exception. If anything, it's the ultimate example of that. I have learned so much about redemption and heart and hurt and gratitude and repentance and sacrifice by being a part of it.

As we greet people and as I watch people come down the stairs to exit the theatre, I see that simply by sitting in the seats and watching the story take place, they are walking away with the same lessons learned and/or reiterated.

About three weeks ago, I was asked to write an entry for the Hale Centre Theatre's blog. It was re-posted on Facebook and readers could comment on it. One comment really touched my heart and could easily be said to be the best compliment I have ever received. It read: "My wife and I came to see this show last night, and you all did such a wonderful job. As for your character, you played it so well that I was reluctant to shake your hand after the show. When I did, your hand was soft and your smile of appreciation genuine and sweet. You took us to a place we have never experienced, and brought us back safely. Thank you!"

Took them to a place they had never experienced and brought them back safely. What an absolute honor.

And that's just a very small part of what I've heard and seen. I have even found myself getting emotional as audience members descend the stairs from the auditorium and approach Kyle to thank him - through hugs and tears - for telling the story so beautifully and honestly. After one performance, I watched him hold a woman in a hug as she just wept. People have merely made eye contact and mouthed "thank you" as they walk out the door, and I understand. I get it. The story is enough to make a grown man weep, but this retelling - through the beautiful music and lyrics - allows these people also to immerse themselves in three hours of spirituality.

How many nights have I driven out of that parking lot after changing back into my civilian clothes and scrubbing my face clean of the stage make-up and felt like a better person because I was lucky enough to share the story with 600 people? Too many times to count.

No, I'm not running for President or nursing people back to health or working to cure cancer. I'm not building machines or even delivering important letters in the mail. I may not ever make millions of dollars; I may not ever win a Tony Award; I may not ever be a "Broadway star."

But every now and then I have gotten to and will get to share in the feelings of the people in the audiences I perform for. I have watched people come down those stairs after the show and shed tears that were being held in for a very long time. The show became their outlet of sorts. I feel like a contributing human being in the career path I have chosen. It isn't just about how great we feel when people shake our hands or review or applaud our work. I believe that those who have chosen performing arts as a career help people feel.

Life isn't just about making money. It's about loving and giving and feeling and learning.

I believe that if performing weren't a career option, if theatre didn't exist, if fine arts just weren't a part of life... the world would still spin. While there would be no music, no movies, no plays, no paintings - no such thing as an artist in any way, shape or form - the sun would still rise and set. The planets would still rotate around the sun. The seasons would still change. The world would still go on and on.

But really think about it... what a boring place this world would be!