proust project: day six

Question Six: What is your favorite journey?

Oh... this bewilders me. The big ticket options are clear enough. The journey of life. The journey of a relationship. The journey of becoming yourself. But I’m not feeling super deep today. I slept too late. I’m a little foggy-headed and a lot out of sorts. Just last night, I reached the end of the best journey there is: putting on a show.

For you plebes out there - and I say that with love - imagine it like this: you apply to a job that sounds amazing. You get hired. Oh shit. Then there’s the on-boarding process. You adjust to a new environment. You meet your new coworkers. Your skills are tested. There are the inevitable ups and downs. If you’re lucky, you make some friends and learn some things along the way. And then BAM! The company goes bankrupt. Or you’re fired due to “budget cuts”. Either way, it all comes crashing down. And you’re back at the beginning. 

Working in theatre is only ever having a job for two to three months at a time. The whole kebab, condensed. It is a beautiful and bittersweet journey. The process is as such.

It begins with an audition…

…which is wiped from memory the moment you’re out the door because otherwise the only thing waiting for you outside said door is… insanity. 

Then, you book it. A miracle. You’re employed for the first time in who knows how long and eagerly off to the races. You get sent a cast list and spend an hour stalking people you haven’t yet met on social media. You read the script. You Command F the name of your character to see what’s been cut. Anxiety. Anticipation. Excitement.

Rehearsals begin. There are first impressions of people’s talent. Of personalities. These are your coworkers for the next three months. You better believe they’re judging you too. You try to appear nonchalant, yet committed. To be friendly, but not overly so. To be good, but not a show-off.

Weeks pass. The show comes alive. You spend an increasingly tiring number of hours per week living and playing inside an alternate universe. Simultaneously, the people of that universe become the alternate cast of characters in the play of your life. A work bubble. A world bubble.

Opening night. You have come to know your alternate cast very well over time. Professional habits. Personal histories. Drink preferences. Not to mention you’ve just spent one straight week of 12-hour days with them, putting finishing touches on the world you’ve been building together.

And that world? Oh God, it’s so important. The best thing about actors is that we love our job. It’s all special. It’s personal, for fuck’s sake. We savor every moment because we know that one day very, very soon... it’ll be gone. 

Closing. You blink and suddenly you’re hugging goodbye in front of a shuttered diner in Harlem, drunk at 4 am on a Monday morning saying “I’ll see you around” when in reality… there is no guarantee of that at all. 

You wake up the next morning with the blank expanse of a week before you. A season gone. The journey has come to an end.

And then? You do it all again. For as long as you can take it.