Let me share with you a little old dream of mine. Picture this:
Six in the morning when the alarm goes off and the sun isn’t even up. Stumble out of bed and make coffee in the near dark. Throw together a travel bag with an odd assortment of heels, pens and paper, camera, and a last-minute decision on a dress– as the prior evening was probably spent trying on everything in the closet without coming to a decision or hanging anything back up. Go with whatever is least wrinkled. Cd’s, sunglasses, keys.
Get on highway 40 heading east, right into the sun. There isn’t a single turn or detour which means you can spend the entire four and half hour drive to Louisville focused more on music and thinking, ‘I could totally be the next Adele’ . Look for the back of the ballet studio on the right as you cross into the city which you can always see because it’s next to Slugger field and has a colorful swish of blue, green, and white paint .
Stop in some kind of coffee shop to change out of the ‘driving outfit’ into whatever you threw into your bag in the morning. Attempt to smooth out wrinkles.
Drive down main street to the theatre. Park as close as possible as try not to be murdered by oncoming traffic while crossing the street. Walk in and proudly ask for reserved tickets at will-call. Take your seat, get pen and paper situated in your lap, ready to strike. Light dim and the show starts. Almost forget that you’re here to do a job.
And guess what folks? This little dream of mine is coming true.How appropriate since I got this news on 11/11/11? Yessir, I have been summoned by the publication ‘Leo Weekly’ (which is the best, funniest, most creative and artistically driven publication in Lville) to journey from the StL to write a review of the Louisville Ballet’s Nutcracker.
I think maybe one of the coolest things ever would be a job as a touring critic. If I were ever important or talented or famous enough
that my opinion mattered that companies or festivals would ask me to come review or promote, and I could tour the country, nay THE WORLD and see the good the bad and the ugly things that are happening, that would pretty much be a dream come true. And here it is, at my feet. It’s a real Cinderella kind of story- minus the missing shoes.
Why do all the Disney Princesses suck so much?(The lesson is: beauty is in the eye of the beholder….as long as the woman is good looking.) They all either give up their lives for some man or do nothing except frolic around talking to woodland creatures. If I acted like that, people would probably report me to the police. If this was real life and they behaved that way, gamboling about, singing to the birdies and bunnies and deer, they’d probably be mistakenly shot by Dick Cheney. It is hunting season after all.
*Note- please do yourself a favor and also watch the ‘advice from the little mermaid’– hilarious. Also, genius idea: I will produce a Disney remake of Beauty and the Beast where the Beast is a moose that Sarah Palin falls in love with and then Gaston (with Cheney’s face and voice) accidentally shoots the Beast. and the moose. (political disney satire- now that’s true love!)
There’s nothing I hate more than a damsel in distress that doesn’t pull herself up by her own bootstraps in times of trouble, or people in general who don’t have their own ambitions and dreams. I don’t neeeeed a fairy Godmother. Though I’d be lying if I didn’t say I didn’t think of wanting to make my Dad proud when I sent a few writing samples to the Magazine that’s going to print my review.
I remember a few years or even months ago, being motivated more out of fear- wondering what my old teachers, especially my teacher from Butler, Professor Derek Reid, would say if they saw that I’m no longer with a professional company and what a waste, what a disappointment. I don’t claim at all to be past the point of pride where I don’t care what anyone thinks of me and my potential and judges what I should or could be doing with my life. But my dreams have changed shape pretty drastically over the last year and I don’t have that sense of obligation towards expectations or hopes that I imagine others might have for me. I think losing my dad has done that for me.
My Dad was always the one who seemed to think
too highly of me- of my talents in particular. I think he saw all of my faults, the brattiness, stubbornness, temper- but he also always made me feel like I could accomplish anything- proclaiming untapped talent in my drawings and paintings, keeping my poems on his nightstand, and obviously supporting my performing desires. Frankly, I think he overestimated my strength and gifts, but I’m not complaining. It’s nice to have that. Losing your biggest champion really pulls the rug out from under your feet. Where’s Aladdin and his fraying magic carpet when you need him?
I kind of hate the idea of someone just waving a magic wand and making everything I want fall into my lap. I would prefer to look back at my life and say ‘I did that’. And in my budding career as a writer, I have fought pretty hard for the opportunities I’ve luckily been given- from starting this blog which got me a few jobs in New York which then helped me get to cover some things in St. Louis to then working at Alive and now getting to travel to review shows. I am making my own dreams a reality, but there’s definitely someone helping me along the way.
This has turned into quite a long and rambling post. I intended to just post my good news and then some pictures of shoes I want and here I am pouring out my inner most thoughts. Congrats to you for your attention span and for sticking it out with me. Thanks for reading. 🙂