On Saturday, I had to go to work for about 45 minutes to help handle lights for a photo call. I had not dine a dimmer check since 2006, which was the last time that I stage managed a play (called Porno, basically the most awesome avante garde psycho-sexual dramatic comedy-drama that I refused to let some of my friends come see but still maintain is one of the best thing is have ever worked on). When I got into the booth at the space at work and flipped on the dimmer packs and started playing with the two-scene present board, it actually felt really good. I was there because of a scheduling mixup–I was supposed to be on my way to my shower so that I could get ready for a date.
But honestly, it felt good to need to be somewhere. The two hours in between my lunch with my great friend and my “call” time were uneventful, and it was good for me to be out and about, even if it was in Williamsburg near the Bedford stop, essentially the Midtown of Brooklyn (crowded, crowded, full of jerks, crowded). I got to the theater, and it felt good to be there.
What I miss is having somewhere to go. I have certainly written about this before here. I miss having shows on the weekends, I miss having a groups of artists I am working with. I also just miss having someplace to be, where I am needed and wanted. Working in the office, sometimes I have to work really hard to get out of there on time, or ever, and I have to be very careful to set boundaries about my time. With a show, the pull on your time is intense, but it is also finite. The run will end, the show will close, the emergencies will stop. The work that you put into a great show comes back to you every night when you are on stage or in the booth, it comes from the performers and the audience, and the energy is really exciting.
I have always though of myself as an introvert, and as I walked on Bedford Street on Saturday, trying to make sure my purse didn’t hit someone’s baby stroller and attempting to look at shoes while being shoved into a rack of sweaters, I definitely felt like an introvert. But maybe I really do feed off of other people’s energy–it just needs to structured in a different way.
Sometimes I think how fun it would be to try to act or perform again, but I don’t think I could do it in New York. Everyone here is a professional, it would be so much work and hassle, and too much competition. But mostly, I just like the idea of having someplace to be, and some fun people to be with, and something beautiful to make, even just for a few hours.