The Future

School is ending in 3 weeks.

I can remember sitting in my room at this time last year, completely exhilarated about the amount of theatre I was doing for the next month and incredibly sad about the people who would soon be leaving. I remember it like it was yesterday.

But that was a year ago.

A year from now I will be preparing for my graduation. And who knows what the future holds for me.

Theatre is an unpredictable life. You follow the work. And your life is the work. There is virtually no distinction between your profession and your personal life. You pour your heart and soul into it, get ripped to shreds, endure some painful moments and trying times for those few moments of absolute bliss. And that's what you live for. Those moments? They're worth it. They are why you give up your social life, your relationships, your family...all of that is put off until the moment when theatre tells you it's okay to let go.

Part of me loves the excitement, the thrill, the endless possibility. I am giddy with excitement when companies post their next season of shows, questioning whether I could possible fit a show into my already busy schedule. I love beginning a new project. I love the moments of chaos when I feel completely in control at the exact same time. I love the rush of opening night. I love standing ovations. I love that my work could take me anywhere, that my future is limitless at this point. That's the joy of being a 20-something--you have so much to learn, so much potential to fulfill, so many opportunities to seize

And then the rational side of me fears for my future. I've already settled into some pretty solid habits and routines. I'm only 20 and I've already developed a crazy work schedule, aversion to social life, relationship phobia due to lack of time, and some god awful eating and sleeping habits. Yet I justify them because I am "successful". Healthy right? But I'm also fiercely devoted to my family and friends. My number one priority to be able to be there for them when they need a laugh, a hug, or an encouraging word. And as we grow older, special moments will come up more frequently. No longer will we just need to hang out and talk, we will be planning weddings, lifestyles, and families. And I want to be there for all of that with them. Part of me wishes I could see the future so I could put all of these monumental events on my permanent conflicts calendar, knowing I can't be doing a show at that time so that I can fulfill my other duties--nothing is greater than the gift of being a friend.

I often say that theatre and life do not get along. And what I mean by this is that life happens whether we plan for it or not. People die, people get sick, people have crises...that's all part of life. Theatre schedules are not very accommodating of this. Regardless of what personal crisis you are dealing with, you must still show up to your 6:00 call ready to go whether you want to or not. It's not like a regular job where you can take a week off and someone will cover for you. You play a significant role, no matter how big or small you think your part may be.

It's ironic that I say theatre and life don't get along because theatre is life. Theatre reflects our deepest desires and our most painful thoughts. It constantly throws all of that emotion, angst, and joy around to hopefully inflect some sort of reaction. That pain we're feeling? You can find it in a Broadway show

I can't predict the future. It's April 26, 2011. This is going to be a year of change and uncertainty. The rest of my life is going to be a roller coast of change and uncertainty. There will be painful moments, some of struggle, some of heartache, and some moments when i will simply question if the life I have chosen is worth it.

And then I think back on the moments when I was happiest. On those unpredictable moments when everything in the world just came together.

And I remember why I do what I do.