Joy Remembers an Angel
I was a hopeful. But also a little down on myself tonight as I headed out for my evening walk around Capitol Park. That old saying, "a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step" was cliché cluttering my head. This is one long, mother-pheasant plucking journey I have to say! It's a lot more steps to me losing weight and feeling pretty, who knows how many steps to finding love, and many more steps to me maybe fulfilling my dream of making good theatre for a living.
But the spark of hope I carried with me was knowing how much I wanted it—at least the theatre part. A few years ago I started with even more steps to push through. I wanted to finish my undergrad degree in theatre finally. I worked full time, averaged 19 units a quarter at UC Davis and did shows in the evening for two years. I lived on 4 hours of sleep a night and endless cans of Diet Rockstar. And I graduated. So, as much as the cliché cluttered my head, I knew the journey was even longer a few years ago. There has been progress.
But was I really going in the right direction? Should I pursue my graduate degree in theatre? Do I belong in theatre at all? I love it. I want it badly, but I’m one of those silly people that keeps asking for a sign. Just give me a sign I’m an actor, that I belong in the theatre, etcetera dramatic indulgent etcetera.
So I’m finishing my second lap around Capitol Park, and I’m sweaty and ugly and tired and still a little down even with the endorphins. Madonna’s Ray of Light fades up on my iPod. It’s a song that I think I’ll hear in my invisible soundtrack someday if I really do realize my calling in theatre—because every time I step in a theatre I feel like I just got home. As my call of thunder rumbled underneath, this woman walking towards me was staring at me. She stopped and urged my attention and mouthed something I couldn’t hear. I pressed stop on my iPod.
And she said again, “Are you…are you an actor?”
I shyly said, “Yes.”
She said, “Were you in Judas Iscariot?”
Proudly, “Yes, yes I was. I had a small part—”
“I remember you, you were an angel.”
She proceeded to tell me how important the show was to her and how much she enjoyed it. After seeing it she bought the play and the book the director mentioned A Jesuit Priest On Broadway. She said she saw Judas Iscariot once and loved it so much that she came back on a night it was sold out but, “Your stage manager, the little nice fella, he got me in and found me a seat.”
She then asked me, “Is all theatre in Sacramento that good? Everyone was so good! Everyone, it was such a great ensemble. I'm new to the area so it's all I know of theatre here.” She continued, “Have you worked with that group before?” I told her that I had never worked with that group before and that’s part of what drew me to audition for the show. I wanted to work with new people. I told her that it was one of the best theatrical experiences
I have ever had. I told her, “On and off the stage, there was great energy with everyone.” She remarked how that reminded her of what the priest says in the book about his experience with the original cast, “and it makes you wonder about that show.” She asked if I was going to work with the group again, and I said I hoped so. She smiled, put her hand out and said, “Oh by the way, I’m Joy. Thank you so much for doing the show.”
“No, thank you Joy. Thank you for supporting local theatre. Thank you Joy.” She left with a friendly smile.
I put my earphones back in, wiped the sweat off my brow and repeated her first words,
“Are you an actor?”
“Yes, yes I am.”
In turn, an angel remembers joy. I answered her question without thinking. Not sure now who was the angel tonight. But I think I got my sign. Answered my questions. So I'll continue—step, step, step.....
But the spark of hope I carried with me was knowing how much I wanted it—at least the theatre part. A few years ago I started with even more steps to push through. I wanted to finish my undergrad degree in theatre finally. I worked full time, averaged 19 units a quarter at UC Davis and did shows in the evening for two years. I lived on 4 hours of sleep a night and endless cans of Diet Rockstar. And I graduated. So, as much as the cliché cluttered my head, I knew the journey was even longer a few years ago. There has been progress.
But was I really going in the right direction? Should I pursue my graduate degree in theatre? Do I belong in theatre at all? I love it. I want it badly, but I’m one of those silly people that keeps asking for a sign. Just give me a sign I’m an actor, that I belong in the theatre, etcetera dramatic indulgent etcetera.
So I’m finishing my second lap around Capitol Park, and I’m sweaty and ugly and tired and still a little down even with the endorphins. Madonna’s Ray of Light fades up on my iPod. It’s a song that I think I’ll hear in my invisible soundtrack someday if I really do realize my calling in theatre—because every time I step in a theatre I feel like I just got home. As my call of thunder rumbled underneath, this woman walking towards me was staring at me. She stopped and urged my attention and mouthed something I couldn’t hear. I pressed stop on my iPod.
And she said again, “Are you…are you an actor?”
I shyly said, “Yes.”
She said, “Were you in Judas Iscariot?”
Proudly, “Yes, yes I was. I had a small part—”
“I remember you, you were an angel.”
She proceeded to tell me how important the show was to her and how much she enjoyed it. After seeing it she bought the play and the book the director mentioned A Jesuit Priest On Broadway. She said she saw Judas Iscariot once and loved it so much that she came back on a night it was sold out but, “Your stage manager, the little nice fella, he got me in and found me a seat.”She then asked me, “Is all theatre in Sacramento that good? Everyone was so good! Everyone, it was such a great ensemble. I'm new to the area so it's all I know of theatre here.” She continued, “Have you worked with that group before?” I told her that I had never worked with that group before and that’s part of what drew me to audition for the show. I wanted to work with new people. I told her that it was one of the best theatrical experiences
I have ever had. I told her, “On and off the stage, there was great energy with everyone.” She remarked how that reminded her of what the priest says in the book about his experience with the original cast, “and it makes you wonder about that show.” She asked if I was going to work with the group again, and I said I hoped so. She smiled, put her hand out and said, “Oh by the way, I’m Joy. Thank you so much for doing the show.”“No, thank you Joy. Thank you for supporting local theatre. Thank you Joy.” She left with a friendly smile.
I put my earphones back in, wiped the sweat off my brow and repeated her first words,
“Are you an actor?”
“Yes, yes I am.”
In turn, an angel remembers joy. I answered her question without thinking. Not sure now who was the angel tonight. But I think I got my sign. Answered my questions. So I'll continue—step, step, step.....
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2 comments:
Isn't it funny how we never take our dreams seriously, even though others do? I'll never forget a few years ago when I met a boyfriend's roommate for the first time. He said, "So, such and such tells me that you are an artist." I was speechless! Yeah, I had painted for over 20 years, but had never given myself the official title of artist. I guess I felt that I wasn't worthy of it. It took a complete stranger to point it out to me.
And for the record, whenever I see you on stage, it moves me inside. Being on stage consumes you and I can see how you are suddenly transformed into someone new. Your acting makes me miss my days on stage. And your playwriting stirs emotions deep inside me and often moves me to tears. Your words make me want to paint them into the images I see in my mind. I'm proud to call you my actor friend.
You are so kind in taking the time to read, let alone appreciate it. It is funny how we have to be reminded about ourselves from complete strangers. Namaste.
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