Being an actress is transitory. Theatre is a transitory art. Like building sculptures out of snow... they're beautiful while they last, but you know inevitably, they'll come to an end, and melt away. Theatre is psychologically cruel, as well. You spend 6-7 weeks building relationships with a group of people, a family. You see these people every day. You depend on them and come to love them, as individuals, and as a group, too. Then, one day, you get your final applause for the character that you've slaved over, created from scratch, you gather all the things in the dressing room that has been your home away from home, you tear down the set on which you've spent so much time, and you never again see that exact group of people together. It's sad, for me, today, to realize that. So I'm a little maudlin and teary. Just a little though, because the next group of people will mean just as much, I'm sure. I'm not the kind of person who puts walls around her heart just so she won't get hurt. To have loved that group of people for that amount of time will always be special, and I'll keep little mental snapshots of talking in the dressing room, blushing at something overheard in the men's dressing room, sprinting across backstage in three inch heels to avoid missing a scene change, the cat calls and wolf whistles from an unexpected source when I tried on the LBDFH, getting a hug and a kiss on the head from a fellow cast member, having my director tell me that I deserved all the applause I was given and more. It was good. It was more than that, actually, It was great. I found new friends and strengthened old relationships, and even found a kindred spirit in a newfound activity that I find pleasing (like I need another hobby).
Speaking of hobbies, I posted chapter eight of Strength,Chance or Fate at D&G.com this morning. Such a guilty pleasure. I'm up to chapter eighteen in my longhand, now, and just wait for the betas to send things back. It's fun.
It appears as if I'm going to Dallas by myself this week. I was going to take the four year old, but hubby decided that he wanted to keep him here, they're evidently going to have a boys week... it's going to be "Lord of the Flies" up in my house... everyone running about in their boxers and the one with the conch shell will be in charge. Hopefully hubby will keep hold of it. I doubt it, though.