Sunday, June 12, 2011

My horse is tall.

I discovered the joy of cooking poor man's food yesterday. There's this silly little surge of pride within me whenever I successfully make myself a meal of some sort. Shows you how much I do on my own.

The children's show at 13th Street "opened" yesterday. We were told there was going to be a birthday party (in which part of the party package at the theatre includes the children's show), but the darling old woman in charge, 94-year-old Edith, had gotten confused and told us the wrong day. The birthday party is today, not yesterday. We did a rehearsal run through, and then another run through for our director's mother. I felt some kind of anger turning my insides crisp and black.

I come to everything thinking it will be as professional as I am, with this organized, focused attitude and the talent to make it happen, and I find that I am being repeatedly disappointed by maintaining my high standards. Whether it be for the theatre or just for people in general. Like I keep having rocks chucked at me to try and knock me off my high horse, what the hell am I thinking for having such outlandish expectations of the world? (It would explain the random bruises I keep finding all over my arms and legs...)

And it makes me miss high school. Why? Because there, under the cynical and sharp eye of my director, everyone was held to that standard, and a professional, high bar attitude was branded into us. I guess, from then on, I've expected the bigger world to be the same way, and it is on rare occasions that I find anything that lives up to that standard. A blessing or a curse, I can't figure out what it is.

And my darling mama sees me through with a long-distance hug, saying "Having such high standards is bound to cause that [disappointment] more often than not - but you can never compromise either."

And I suppose that's one of the more overarching lessons I'm learning. It's not one giant, brutal moment where a lesson is clear - it's this perpetual, dull beating of something trying to make me compromise, and the success is simply in never collapsing in on myself and allowing myself to.

This internship is kind of a "find what needs to be done and go do it because you're our free labor and the more you volunteer for things around here the more you'll learn." Not what I was expecting, or really exactly in the mood for, considering it's a professional theatre, but hot damn give me my 8 credits and I'll do just about anything.

Headed back to CT for a home-cation in seven days.

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