We closed The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged) yesterday (see All The World’s a Stage). We had a good, three-performance run. As seems typical of plays not put on by the established theater community in Haines, we had rather sparse attendance, but those who came and stayed left feeling entertained, apparently. We sure had fun!
Now, with the All Hallowtide decorations put away, I’m ready to face that ephemeral idea, “normal” life (see Winter Has Come).
I am one of those people who, after doing something publicly (like, say, acting in a play) feels as if they have misbehaved in some way; I won’t say “made a fool of one’s self, although in this particular case that’s completely appropriate. Each night, after performance, as I “came down” from the adrenaline rush of live theater, I’ve crashed a bit, pulling into myself, withdrawing even beyond a night-, rain-, and windswept hike through the forest to home. Now that the play’s finished, I can indulge that impulse to the maximum. I can forego hiking out to town for a while (I hope . . .) I can stop shaving, grow my hair and beard if I want. I can talk to myself, read what I want, listen to music instead of running lines. It feels wonderful!
After the previous play (see Noises Off!) I’d pretty much resolved to stop doing theater, but since the Shakespeare project got offered to me during the previous play’s rehearsal, and because I’d wanted to do it for so long, I knew I had at least one more in me. Who knows if I will feel that way again? For now, the evening commute, which requires about an hour before each scheduled rehearsal time, and pretty much the same afterward, cuts into my time too much. It disrupts my eating schedule, keeps me from seeing family as much as I like. The anxiety of memorizing lines seems to grow harder as I age, which creates new anxieties of its own. I have always been an overthinker, and nothing encourages that vice like acting!
I’d wanted to title this essay Life Snaps Back on Track, but I know better than to claim such a sudden return to my usual routines. I’m going to drift, and perhaps drift slowly. It’s going to take some time to get back into the headspace that I know and value so highly. In the meantime, I need to make the effort to be outgoing, such as continuing to write for this blog, even though I’d rather just drop off the face of the earth for a while.
No one wants to talk about the next play just yet. That’s fine with me—I might be ready to consider another one in a month or two, but then again, maybe not.