So, I know it has been awhile. My apologies. I have no real excuse except to say that work really isn't that adventurous, so I am lacking in blog worthy activities. I am aware of how lame that is.
Tonight, though not lacking in news from this weekend, I am going to journey back five years. I really like the idea of time travel, and memory lane is the perfect path.
Back in my freshman year of college, I decided I was going to write a musical for my undergraduate senior thesis. As the overachiever I am, I didn't really take into consideration that I:
1. Had only ever written short stories, done improv, or adapted plays from well-established pieces of literature.
2. Did not, in any way, shape, or form, know how to compose music or play an instrument effectively.
3. Was well-known for being an absolute clutz and severely lacking in dance skills.
In case you weren't sure, writing a musical requires the ability to: write a play, compose music, and create accompanying choreography (or at least general blocking). I was about as far from batting 1000 as you can get.
So I took music classes, dance classes, theater classes, directing classes. I found every friend imaginable, and roped them into doing anything to help make it happen. In the process, I estranged all but two of them - only one of whom I still regularly communicate with. And to be perfectly honest, the final product was pretty far from my dream.
I look back on this experience tonight and think about all the things that happened to put that show together: the friendships made and lost, the hours poring over sheet music and Finale, finger strikes on the keyboard, the rug worn down in the Capstone basement (which served as my make-shift dance studio), the emotional capital I invested ... the list could go on. In sum though, the benefits strongly outweigh the hardships, as they so often do in creative projects.
Now, I find myself wondering what it would take to actually make an original musical happen. I still have my free evening hours to devote to it. I still want to do it. But, I would never ask friends to invest in the process again (it hurts too much to lose them, and I know I'm a different person when I get worked up) and I still can hardly play piano (though I'm working on chords now!). My dancing leaves alot to be desired, but that's why you find a choreographer. In all, I am not dreadfully far from where I was five years ago, except I am now aware of at least 100 different things that will potentially go wrong. That sort of makes me think about that Edison quote, "Now I know 1000 ways how NOT to make a lightbulb."
I'm not sure where I was going with this, except to say, to the whole cast and crew of Ecifircas, that I am sorry for whatever I did or said that might have hurt you, on the way to making my dream "come true." Also, a special thank you to the people who actually sat in those dreadfully hard seats in BTW theater to watch the show ... God bless you, really.
The best compliment I got about the show (and this should help put it in perspective if you didn't know me then, or didn't see it) was: "I hope one day you can see your show the way you meant it to be." That day isn't tomorrow, but it certainly seems like I'm working up my nerve for another run at it soon. And when I finally get there, I hope that the compliment-giver (who has also veered off my radar) and the original team can come together and see it with me. It would be nice closure for all the drama to become worth it in a real piece de theatre.
For now though, I'm going to bed. Because tomorrow, I am the chief coordinator for an event half the length, half the "cast," and one millionth the complexity of Ecifircas (with a budget 30 times greater, which is rather disheartening really). I'll be putting to use my best "production" skills to pull the ceremony off without a hitch. Perhaps in the end, the skills I learned trying to make one dream come true will help bring another rather different dream a reality.
Love always, ~Heather
Tonight, though not lacking in news from this weekend, I am going to journey back five years. I really like the idea of time travel, and memory lane is the perfect path.
Back in my freshman year of college, I decided I was going to write a musical for my undergraduate senior thesis. As the overachiever I am, I didn't really take into consideration that I:
1. Had only ever written short stories, done improv, or adapted plays from well-established pieces of literature.
2. Did not, in any way, shape, or form, know how to compose music or play an instrument effectively.
3. Was well-known for being an absolute clutz and severely lacking in dance skills.
In case you weren't sure, writing a musical requires the ability to: write a play, compose music, and create accompanying choreography (or at least general blocking). I was about as far from batting 1000 as you can get.
So I took music classes, dance classes, theater classes, directing classes. I found every friend imaginable, and roped them into doing anything to help make it happen. In the process, I estranged all but two of them - only one of whom I still regularly communicate with. And to be perfectly honest, the final product was pretty far from my dream.
I look back on this experience tonight and think about all the things that happened to put that show together: the friendships made and lost, the hours poring over sheet music and Finale, finger strikes on the keyboard, the rug worn down in the Capstone basement (which served as my make-shift dance studio), the emotional capital I invested ... the list could go on. In sum though, the benefits strongly outweigh the hardships, as they so often do in creative projects.
Now, I find myself wondering what it would take to actually make an original musical happen. I still have my free evening hours to devote to it. I still want to do it. But, I would never ask friends to invest in the process again (it hurts too much to lose them, and I know I'm a different person when I get worked up) and I still can hardly play piano (though I'm working on chords now!). My dancing leaves alot to be desired, but that's why you find a choreographer. In all, I am not dreadfully far from where I was five years ago, except I am now aware of at least 100 different things that will potentially go wrong. That sort of makes me think about that Edison quote, "Now I know 1000 ways how NOT to make a lightbulb."
I'm not sure where I was going with this, except to say, to the whole cast and crew of Ecifircas, that I am sorry for whatever I did or said that might have hurt you, on the way to making my dream "come true." Also, a special thank you to the people who actually sat in those dreadfully hard seats in BTW theater to watch the show ... God bless you, really.
The best compliment I got about the show (and this should help put it in perspective if you didn't know me then, or didn't see it) was: "I hope one day you can see your show the way you meant it to be." That day isn't tomorrow, but it certainly seems like I'm working up my nerve for another run at it soon. And when I finally get there, I hope that the compliment-giver (who has also veered off my radar) and the original team can come together and see it with me. It would be nice closure for all the drama to become worth it in a real piece de theatre.
For now though, I'm going to bed. Because tomorrow, I am the chief coordinator for an event half the length, half the "cast," and one millionth the complexity of Ecifircas (with a budget 30 times greater, which is rather disheartening really). I'll be putting to use my best "production" skills to pull the ceremony off without a hitch. Perhaps in the end, the skills I learned trying to make one dream come true will help bring another rather different dream a reality.
Love always, ~Heather
Comments