Yesterday started my professional acting career. The paid improv show I'm in opened last night, and because I'm not working for either of my other jobs, this weekend I am living the life of a pro. That sounds glamorous, but its just strange.
Wake up late. Work out extensively. Primp extensively. Eat one giant meal at 3 PM so you can have a good workout prior and a good open post. Drive to theatre alone. Warm-up, discuss setlist, find key with accompanist, open. Expend all your energy. Greet your audience. Eat a banana in an empty dressing room. Wish for sleep. Begin the late show. Expend all your back-up energy. Leave the theatre at midnight alone. Drive the long road home. Hit the pillow. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
college junior year spring musical
Gilly had a headache last night. She was curled up minutes before our second open saying, "I just wanna go home." Although I was in perfect health, so did I. It was late. But performing gets to be like running--only difficult minutes before you go. Because during, you're distracted, and after, you feel great. Heck, during you feel great too.
I'm really not complainin' I realize its just a job, and I hate hearin' belly-achin' rockstars whine and sob. 'Cos I could be busin' tables. I could well be pumpin' gas, but I get paid much finer for playin' piano and kissin' ---
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