There are days when I don’t want to be a stage manager. I think everyone following their passion has days when they question what they’re doing.
Last night, at midnight, I was waiting alone at a bus stop in the rain. I wondered what life would be like if school ended in the afternoon. If art was a hobby.
What if I had ended up a journalist, like I planned to in high school? Would I have normal friends? Would I be going steady with the nice boy from church? I probably would have stayed in state. My dream would be Dallas or San Antonio instead of New York or London.
My worries would be fewer. My hours shorter. My salary higher. Maybe I’d have a pet. No parties, just quiet nights in front of the TV. Less hijinks.
Sometimes I wish for that life. But then I realize that’s not who I was created to be. For better or for worse, I have to be enveloped in art. I can’t stand back from it and admire it; I have to be a part of it. Ordinary people aren’t good enough for me. It’s the people who’ve been broken and healed that are extraordinary. And that describes almost everyone in theatre.
Some nights I’m gonna have to wait for the bus in the rain. But that’s who I am.