BEGINNINGS : Journal Entry #2 - Off-off-OFF Broadway
Sent: 10/25/2000 11:33 PM
I think I've reached that point in my life that is something of a mid-life crisis. Yes, I'm only 27 years old, but it feels that way just the same.
It's that point at which you suddenly take a step back from the play of your life, look around, view it from all different angles, and find that some of the set pieces are out of place, some pieces are missing, a few characters no longer need to be there anymore, other characters are missing their cues, etc. It's the moment that everything becomes overwhelming and of equal importance. It's that point just before the curtain goes up on your life.
You've spent so much time preparing for this moment. You've studied and worked and have tried to make everything perfect. Suddenly, the orchestra is beginning to play. The audience is getting settled in their seats, and there you are behind the curtain frantically running around trying to make sure everything and everyone is in order and accounted for. It's that moment where you almost feel as if you don't have time to breathe because if you stop to take a breath something might get overlooked or missed. The orchestra begins to swell. The lights go down. The curtain begins its climb.
And then, I see it's just me.
Just me, alone on the stage standing in a single spotlight. The audience is quiet. The violins high tones begin to fade up somewhere beyond the ceiling. Then there is silence. Nothing. Not a sound is heard except for a few rustlings from the audience and even those sounds only whisper. Then I realize it. It's all up to me. It's up to me alone. Sweat begins to trickle down my forehead as my eyes scan around me. My hands nervously shake by my sides. Questions bullet in my head. Where are all the set pieces? Where are all the characters? Who says the first line? Have I forgotten the script? Who writes the script anyway?
And that's the moment that I'm at right now . . . the moment I'm in at this very moment as I type this to you . . . the moment that I want to call off stage and ask, "Line?"
I listen. I am listening intently. I know that in the silence it will come to me. My faith in God will carry me through the rest of this play. Certainly, it will come to me. Certainly, I will be able to find my way. Certainly, life will begin to make sense to me. At least, I have hope that it will.
October 13, 2000
