backstage // the colony

one || step into the dressing room. it's a game trying to avoid bumping into each other. street clothes are cast away in a corner and long forgotten, while pleated skirts are a fairy tale. the hat and shoe boxes are out of order again. perhaps the layers of skirts feel foreign, but to me they feel like home. tuck and pin your hair back, while you chat over your lukewarm picnic dinner.

two || say a quick 'ello as you squeeze past in the dim hallway to the cast members just arriving through the door. the mirror reflects a whole new character, and i wonder if i can fill her shoes properly. straighten your bow tie and cameo pin. refreshen the lips. how's my sash? twirl to complete the effect. a rather lively game of checkers proceeds on the table, while the pastor gives another history lesson in the corner. simply a hop, skip, and a jump to the gardens. check your props: tadpoles, bouquets, parasols, poles, hats, hangers - and fly back to the dressing rooms. twelve minutes to spare until warm ups. 













three || link hands and give a prayer of thanks. warm your voice with a honey-sweet drink of song. ten minutes until places. try hard not to bit your lip. tighten pearl's braids. tease with your friend and play the game of making the introverts smile. 









four || places are called and a whisper of "break a leg" ripples through the crowd shortly after. squeeze any hand  that comes within your radius. are you reassuring them or you more? the audience is hushed as announcements and welcomes are spoken. the music starts and your world is made. the audience swims in and eventually, out of view as you step into the world of 1914. 



to the crazy brunettes, to my long-lost cousin, to the one who sang les miserables with me, to my younger paradox, to the blond one with her obsession of cosplays, thanks for the fangirling and the laughs. to the one who laughed in my face, the one i worry about {constantly} and who never caught on to my references, to the one who's hair was simply perfect, to the one who had to wear overalls, and the one who i yelled at, to the one who did not do any of us a favor of dying and the one who spun me in the air, thank you for always putting a smile on my face. to the two little monkeys, thank you for being adorable. to the swoon-worthy voice and the school teacher, thank you for sharing your talent. to the wicked skeptic, thank you for keeping me sane. to the pianist and the voice trainer, thank you for your time and help to achieve something i never thought i could/would do and motivation and overwhelming encouragement. to the british one with her honey-sweet accent, thank you for the notes and the encouragement and love and addressing me as "darling." to the director from scotland who sneaked away to yosemite and to the parents who surprised me with a dozen red roses on closing night and drove me to wherever i needed to go from the bottom of my heart: thank you. and to everyone else in this incredible, remarkable cast: you're the best.

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xx from your fellow actress