My last blog entry, which you can read HERE was written in Dec 2012 and about the moment I found out that I was going to be on Broadway. It is now March 2013. In the time that has passed, I have learned to do the following: ride a scooter, jump onto a vault on one foot and forward roll off it, communicate with different types of children, communicate with different types of adults, speak in a Welsh accent (this is still a work-in-progress), tie a tie (badly), and stay calm when stuck in an elevator with 5 people at a time when I'm supposed to be leading a rehearsal. I have not learned how to stay calm under the pressure of the possibility of being thrown into a scooter dance track that I have never rehearsed, how to churn out 11 dance tracks out of memory, how to stay focused at full attention during every second of a 12 hour working day, or how to physically be in two (or three) places at the same time. This is also a work-in-progress. I live in a constant state of anxiety that I'm afraid the gratitude I have does not quash. I am anxious of hurting myself. I am anxious of hurting someone else. And I am anxious of, Lord forbid, hurting a child when that child is my responsibility. My position might be better served by someone with a calmer and cooler disposition by nature. Well, too bad, they got me, and I fight every day not to let myself be overwhelmed by a series of "what ifs," a one sided dialogue that cycles around in my brain like tiny termites on tiny scooters, eating away at my confidence, patience, and at the very worst, my humour. Because, if my insecurities stall me from laughing at any given situation, then it's bad news.
"Won't you be bored?" many people asked me when I told them I would be a Swing. At the time, I was too freaking excited to let such notions dampen my spirits. Now, I say emphatically, nay, EXASPERATEDLY, that I am TOO FREAKING BUSY AND ANXIOUS TO BE BORED. I spent the better part of the shows this week writing out cheat sheets for the Swing kids. Should they be thrown into one of their tracks at the last second, we need them to be overly prepared. So, I sat in my dressing room hunched over my notepad writing out examination question and answer forms to give them. I don't have cramps in my body from dancing, but I have cramps in my hand from writing. Go figure! I have not held a pen without putting it down for this long since I was in boarding school and writing essays out by hand (because in those days, teenagers didn't study via computer and google, but via pen, paper, and the library). You, my dear reader, will either find it fascinating or eye-roll inducing that my astrologer told me a couple of years ago that I could make a decent living working with other people's children. Additionally, when I consulted her before I was offered Matilda, she asked me if I had auditioned for a big sister role because my chart showed alot of big sister energy. Ladies and gents, I had absolutely no idea that there would be a children's dance captain on the show, let alone know that I was being considered for it. I would have never ever pegged myself as someone who would work so closely with kids. And yet, it is determined by the stars and things happen in ways in which you never imagine. These kids look at me during warm-ups like I'm in charge, and when they ask me questions, they really believe that I have all the answers, when the truth is I don't have all the answers, and I don't know if I ever will. But, by the stars, I will go and find the answers for them. By the stars, they will not be underprepared. I know this because they have been drilled within an inch of their (and my) lives by an intrepid dance team made up of a couple women whom I wish I was as tireless as. I am so not tireless. All I want to do sometimes is crawl into a little warm space and drink some carefully steeped oolong and read a book on Taoism.
Amidst the anxieties stated above, I get constant vomit inducing pangs of reminders every day that I am, in fact, first cover to a couple of the adult tracks. See, I forget. I hang out with the kids (and when I say "hang out," what I really mean is, "make sure they know exactly where they go to onstage when they're on a scooter, etc etc etc") and I forget that I'm actually an adult and need to know what I'm doing as an adult so that I can be ready to go onstage as an adult. The thought of this makes my armpits break out in a cold sweat. I am not cut out for this kid of pressure. I get so nervous that I can barely focus. In fact, I have no idea how I got this job, my nerves were so bad. As if being prone to awful nerves wasn't a pain in the butt enough, I go into work every day and face fears that I never thought in my darkest nightmares I would have to. The very first time I saw "gym session" scheduled, I assumed we'd be learning how to cartwheel (a skill I do not have), maybe learn how to do backwards walkovers (ditto). When I turned up to work and saw a trampette and a vault...well...all I can say is that I was lucky I was wearing a sleeveless top. It didn't help that every single one of the kids jumped onto the vault with absolute ease, putting me to shame. It's fine, I feel too anxious to feel any embarrassment. Then I remember that I have to work on the salsa section that the adults do, and I think to myself, "F this vault shit, I gotta go salsa!"
And so it goes, round and round every day, like those scooters, around in one big circle of anxiety and aggravation and I cry sometimes and I laugh at myself for crying and pick myself up then I fall down again, and on and on and on, and during my day off which is not really a day off, I work on my taxes and do my 2 loads of laundry which takes like 3 hours per load and dance through the show in my living room which I have no idea is actually helpful, and I think that something has to give. Then I remember that I'm making my Broadway debut in a special and magical show; that I am in the middle of living inside the biggest dream I ever had, and I think, "Celia, of course this isn't EASY! When is anything you REALLY want ever EASY?!" And I remember that I almost don't remember what boredom feels like because, since starting this process in the beginning of December last year, among the many things that I have felt, boredom is not one of them.
I guess you want to know if Broadway is everything I thought it would be. The answer is, No. I didn't expect it to be this hard, or all-consuming, or that I'd have to do anything but sing, act, and dance. But, if you believe in the stars, as I do, then you believe that what's meant for you won't pass you by. I am meant for it, and it is meant for me, and there are moments between the anxiety that I feel like the luckiest (and, at tiny, fleeting moments, bravest) woman in the world. I welcome it all with open arms, mind, and heart, but, let me tell you: anxiety and hard work is one thing, however, if I end up with my first strand of gray hair or WRINKLES because of this job, I will pick up a scooter and throw it out the window, just as Miss Trunchbull did to little Julius Rottwinkle.
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