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epitome of incomprehensibility
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I realize I never really wrote about the culmination of the first season of I_joined_a_band_of_musical_pirates. It was a (relative) success! Songs were sung, dances were danced with enthusiasm. Money was made for both the theatre company and the hospital. Mishaps were limited to small, laughable things like my bonnet falling off while dancing and the stage curtain getting snagged on a tree prop.
The lead singers were delightful and expressive, the chorus did its thing. And yes, let's put a non-stressed stress on the fact that the theatre group realized a profit for the first time in several years. Twelve tickets brought in by yours truly - family, friends, and friends of friends.
"Realized" sounds like thinking of a thing instead of obtaining it. But yes. Thing obtained. Why do I feel melancholy now? Prematurely nostalgic, maybe? Or just missing the camaraderie?
This past Saturday, I joined a bunch of the others for a screening of the filmed play (actually, two performances spliced together). Mom came with me, expressed joy at the offered Timbits, but frustration that there were fewer close-ups. To her, it seemed distant. To me, still too close. Boredom because I experienced this more richly not too long ago, because this screening was like sitting still and watching a sport when I wanted to run around. Now I wanted to be in the midst, the thick of the scenes again. I felt I had to take a deep breath before my musical entrances.
I also wanted to sit next to Gilbert, whose name isn't Gilbert (hey, I could have called him Sullivan). Contemplation: do I like him, or was that supposed crush just misplaced David-longing? I hear him laugh a few chairs away. On the screen, I see us briefly holding hands in the first dance. Then I feel a sudden rush of affection, expressed in the thought, "Oh, but we DO go together! Our heads are both round and it's cute."
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I can be a bit silly sometimes. Like the personal triumph I achieved: I didn't have to poop at the theatre. Why was this a goal? Well, the nearby bathroom was only a tiny closet with a toilet and sink right off the dressing room. It felt embarrassing to even contemplate pooping there, so close to where the costume helpers were adjusting people's hats and such. And it was inconvenient to ascend upstairs into the school part of the building, as I did during the all-day dress rehearsal at the beginning of that month.
So I tried to eat bigger lunches than suppers the days before the evening performances, on the assumption that my digestive system takes about 24 hours to do its thing. It worked! No theatre-pooping.
...
Backstage_conversations made me feel a part of the group. Sometimes apart of the group. A part from. Committee_of_one. A_risky_time. At first, I changed in the little closed room off the music room but then decided not to be so modest. I was in my underwear at all times anyway. Being in the right place at the right time was a little stressful, but it didn't challenge this ADHD mind so much as the craft-show-prep experience.
I just felt bad that I didn't move a large prop when Rachel asked me to. Usually Bethan would help her, but Bethan was feeling dizzy, so Rachel asked me to step in. And I completely forgot. It wasn't something I rehearsed, so it flew out of my mind, and I couldn't understand why Rachel gestured at me onstage. "Aren't I supposed to go the other way?" I thought, and went the other way.
She arrived backstage huffing and puffing. "Ah, Kirsten, you said you'd help!"
Red-faced. "I forgot, I'm sorry." Inside my head: Oh no, oh no, this is the kind of thing I'm bad at, I let everyone down because my mind isn't organized, aaaaah. Also inside my head: Chill out already, gaaaaah.
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