Young Theater Geek

Today I’m going to introduce something really cool.

This New Idea I Thought Of:
Okay, so basically it’s like a newspaper column and it is called:
My Turbulent/Fabulous Past In Black and White.
Catchy, right?
Today’s entry is entitled: My Turbulent/Fabulous Past in Black and White:  I Move To A Small Mountain Village.
Ahem.
At the age of ten my family moved from the bustling city of Los Angeles to a small resort town on the top of a mountain.
Fun, right?
Actually, yes. It was fun. For one, there was actual nature which my young brain had some difficulty processing.
Trees? Growing from, wait, what’s this? Dirt? Trees growing our of DIRT?! Oh my- whaaaaaat????!!!!
We moved to a condo complex that was located directly next to a ski slope. The condo complex turned out to be completely deserted. Not even kidding. Sometimes on the weekend a couple of people would show up to ski but by Sunday afternoon they’d be gone.
I was homeschooled. I had just moved. We lived in a deserted condo complex on the top of an almost deserted mountain.
Figure out what happens next.
Our protagonist, the fair Lillian, grows more and more lonely as each miniscule encounter with a child ski tourist turns to dust in the wind. (Try making friends with driven ski geniuses when you can’t even kick a soccer ball. No literally, try.)
I, Lillian pouted, quite honestly. And then one day, theater saved my small, turbulent life. Not even kidding. This is how it played out.
My dear father (he literally shows up in every episode of my fabulous blog, just realized) found a community theater group and promptly informed me.
I screamed.
They were just about to start rehearsals for My Fair Lady and they said I could show up and they would put me in the chorus. I was overjoyed. I hugged my dad and thanked him with tears running over my face.
Ahem.
*Cough, cough *
Sorry.
What Actually Occurred:
“Yaaay! Dad!” I yelled with joy.
My dad smiled.
“But I’m scared they’ll hate me.”
“They won’t”
“Okaayyy.”
“They won’t hate you.”
“They will. No one likes me.”
“If you act in this manner things will go down hill for you, Lil.”
“Really?”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay. Fiiinnnee.”
End.
P.S. I talked in a weird way when I was ten.
Anyway, the big day came and I made my-nope, nope, not going to go into my Into The Woods thing again.

Ahrem.
The big day came and my dad brought me to the theater. It was large and cold and was a small black stage in a warehouse that was filled to the brim with props and costumes.
Best Ev!
That was me. Saying best ev in a weird annoying voice. So, yeah.
The director was short and seventy three with hugely large glasses. She was, like, iconic in that town. Literally iconic. At least to a lot of people, including moi. She was a former Broadway actress and she ran the community theater like it was Broadway.
So it was.
Not even kidding.
People would give reviews saying how much our shows were like the real thing and it made me realize something.
I am not preaching. I told myself I wouldn’t.
But if you decide something is going to be a certain way and you really believe it, it will be.
I find that profound.
We started rehearsals and I made friends, finally. Like, literally.
My Friends I Made:
A six-year-old girl who liked Go Fish and wore a mini pig-tail in her hair.
An eight-year-old redhead boy soprano whose Justin Bieber hair flip was the envy of all the boys in town.
A curly-haired nine-year-old girl who smiled continuously.
A dark brown-haired eleven-year old girl who never talked (she later turned out to be hilarious and someone I considered a really dear friend. I do not know if she felt this way about me. I snort really loudly when I laugh. This could be considered a deterrent.)
These four children and I were the kids of the show and we bonded over Old Maid played underneath the mildly disgusting sink in dressing room, and craisins (somehow my dad thought this was enough sustenance for me for an entire show and so that was all I ate for dinner for the three weeks the show ran. He always made me fried egg with salsa when I got home, though. So I was fine. Another story.)
And so I became a part of something that would make an incredible impact on my life. I was afraid of the director, I loved the music director, and I secretly worshiped the woman who played Eliza Doolittle. Just like I was supposed to. And my lonely existence turned into something fabulous.
I’m not being preachy. But if every lonely little fifth grader had a theater group to be a part of, many of life’s problems would leave. Would be solved. I really, really believe this.
Anyhoo. Today I went up to my old town to visit and I got really emotional. It’s a theater thing.


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