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Thursday, October 9

Stage Face.

Wow, she really has all her shit together!

That’s what it looks like doesn’t it? Well I’m here to tell you that you can’t believe everything you see. Because the LAST thing I want to happen to this blog is for my readers to start thinking, now that she has her life in order and is living the dream she’s just another suburban mom bitch, Starbucks and all.

When you grow up in theater, you are groomed for appearances. If something doesn’t look or sound perfect you keep working it over and over until it does. Even after every performance, when the curtain is closed and the stage is dark, you get notes on what you could or should have done better. You learn how to smile and what angles make you look prettier, thinner, or even smarter. You figure out what accessories are needed so that even without opening your mouth your audience knows what you are saying.

Years ago people would wait for their 10 or 20 year reunions, set the stage, buy the dress, rehearse their spiel, and it was showtime. Enter 2014 where every friggin day of your life is reunion day on Facebook. Look at me! Look at me! Look at my amazingly awesome put together life!!

What a joke.

I hear often about how photogenic I am. How my Facebook pictures look perfect. Well, yes, because I PRACTICED and REHEARSED that for well over 30 years. You can’t sing on stage in a costume if you don’t even know how to hold your head for camera. You know “American Idol”, or “The Voice”, or….well, take your pick. We did that three times a year in college where we sang or played instruments in front of a panel of professors who ripped us new assholes. It was called “juries”. Goddamned juries!!

But we subject ourselves to these things because it’s in our blood to perform. To put out a great show albeit a stellar photo of ourselves or our kids. To want to show everyone our craftiness, our meal we cooked, our home project successes, and the list goes on.

What you don’t see is the tears. The breakdown and rebuild. The extreme and abusive judging of ourselves. The standing in front of the mirror with disgust. The feeling that nothing is perfect because nothing ever is, but that nothing is ever finished because everything can be improved upon. That is what we are taught to be the magic of theater. The secret world going on behind the lights.

I’ve had a rough week, I can’t lie. I have beat myself up to a pulp. I’ve needed way too much eye make up to hide the circles and puffy lids. I even did my hair TWICE in the same week to stage a diversion….distract from what I don’t really know.


But my stage face is always on. 

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