When I was in high school, I sort of had things handed to me. I was heavily involved in the choral department, where I got the solos I wanted in programs, competitions, and concerts. In the theatre department each year, there were two mainstage productions - typically, a musical in the fall and a one-act play in the spring. My very first full-length production I was a part of was when I played Annie in Annie as a tenth-grader. The next year, which was my junior year, I immersed myself in the program. I was then cast as The Witch in Into the Woods and the female lead in J.B. The next fall I was cast as Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.
Somewhere along the way, I got really self-entitled. I had very little tact and a very big ego.
The one-act play was always a big deal for those of us involved. It was a part of the University Interscholastic League (UIL) One-Act Play Festival, a competition whose highest honor was performing at State competition in Austin, Texas, with many potential scholarship opportunities.
For the One-Act my senior year (in 2005), we did a show called By the Bog of Cats. This is a modern retelling of Euripedes' Medea set in rural Ireland. The story follows a woman named Hester Swane through an incredibly emotional journey of murder, anger, betrayal, and abandonment. Of course I wanted that role and couldn't even imagine myself playing any other role. I walked around with that air about me, too. That it was mine and no one else's.
(I'm not saying this like I'm proud of it. I actually hate saying things like that because I like to pretend I never really acted like that.)
When auditions rolled around, it was an intense few days filled with an Irish dialect workshop, movement exercises, and all sorts of line- and side-readings. I kept that arrogance in plain sight.
Then, the cast list was posted just a few days later, and I wanted to crumple into a little ball on the floor. I was not cast as the lead. I remember even saying at one point of my obnoxious complaining, "That's the first time my name hasn't been on the top of a list."
Like I said... VERY BIG EGO.
It wasn't easy to deal with. In fact, for a while, I didn't. I made it very clear that I was unhappy with it.
Onstage I was playing the best friend of the female lead who happened to also be my closest friend at the time in my personal life. Friendships are an important part of any thriving human being's life. I hadn't really expressed to Julie how I felt about not getting Hester, but she knew. And I hate that the only reason she knew was because of how I acted for so long.
After I cried about it a few billion times, after I griped about it, after I sulked and fell apart and blamed, something happened to me: I became a best friend.
I remember after school one day sitting in the Black Box on that plaid couch with Julie for hours. We laughed and cried and said absolutely everything we needed to say to each other. When I left the room and got in my car, for the first time, I was happy for her. Better: I was proud of her. And suddenly, it didn't matter anymore that I was a secondary character. This was the first time I had ever felt like I was giving just as much as I was getting back in a friendship and vice versa.Whether it's my lack of care for a friendship or a lack of care on the other side, 50/50 friendships are hard to come by. I can count on one hand the number that I have had in my life. I've realized lately that I haven't been nurturing the friendships I have as well as I should. Especially those that I consider equal. I find myself easily irritated, easily hurt and frustrated, and even easily victimized.
Friendship requires two people who are equally committed to making it last. It doesn't play games. It is based on trust and honesty. It is based on mutual liking. It is based on support. And it is and should be important. I just need to keep reminding myself of that.
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