Just Another Girl On A Stage

I've been listening to old Cds in the car lately (I know so 90's of me). Ever notice how song lyrics strike you differently at different stages of life? I love that. I love that about all art, every viewing has fresh life experience behind it. Just now the idea of being "one more girl on a stage" seemed exceedingly pleasant.

For those of you who don't know, I'm an actor. I've been recovering and writing for a long while now with an audition here and there. Nothing too exciting on that front. The point being I'm itching to get back out there. On the surface the song describes a performer acknowledging that she's one of countless thousands. I lived in NYC & LA and counted myself among the 70,000 actors looking for work. That feeling wasn't news to me.

After a few listens, it dawned on me, I was never "just another" anything. That sounds more arrogant than I intended. I wasn't just another girl on stage anymore than I am just another mother of two now. As much as I resented being the "girl in the wheelchair" growing up, there is power in being memorable. I never had A-list Hollywood success (got famous), but between my inconspicuousness and my talent those who didn't cast me certainly did not forget. My most exciting TV role was a girl in a wheelchair, as it turns out.

I remember the day I took those head shots. I'd been living in New York and peddling my wares with a black and white head shot. I was immediately given two pieces of advice upon arrival on the West Coast: 1)Get a local number 2)Take new head shots. The world was my oyster. I was ready for anything! In the years that followed many of my dreams came true. So many unforgettable roles and experiences came my way. So very unforgettable that I am stunned at how long ago many of them were. Time marches ever forward. The postcard below is role I decided to move to New York after college to pursue. I was so excited to be involved in the inaugural Tribeca Theatre Festival, to have the lead, to work with celebrities, and to have my face on the post card! I remember thinking this is the beginning of everything. I imagine most kids fresh out of school have that moment: no more learning, time to do it. After seeing the show the playwrite came to the next performance and gave me flowers.

I share time's love of forward motion and I went where ever opportunity took me. I pressed on and shined through until my body broke down like a used car. Even as I relocated and adapted I kept on trucking. It wasn't until my difficult pregnancy and subsequent back surgery that I decided to let it rest. It felt like a betrayal of who I was. I've never sought fame and fortune, but when it's in you it's in you. I find it difficult to be articulate about my craft. I remember auditioning for BU's theatre program. I was asked (after my performance) "Why do you want this?" Without hesitation I replied "It's the ONLY thing I've ever wanted. It's like air to me. I need to be good at it."

Passion is important. Everything is so dull and predictable without it. I don't think true love in any form really dies. I'm still reeling at the show in NYC being 9 years ago. Plays, performances, film, TV, voice work...So much happened before and since. So much change in the rest of my life, but it never left me. Now it refuses to wait quietly while I deal with other things. I'm one of thousands of thirty-somethings who isn't where I thought I'd be doing what I thought I'd be doing. Maybe, the song lyric is agreeing with me: You see me as "just another", but you're so very wrong. Onward, art-ward forever and ever.