Let me begin by saying I am so deeply grateful for this job. For all its faults (the scary factor, the anxiety, the mental overload), the pros significantly outweigh the cons. Even though I am six months away from being out of a job, I still find myself fearing the end of the road and letting go of my family here. Tour is like living in a bubble; similar to college, I am once again living on the same dorm floor with the same fifty people for an entire year. Letting go of that and coming back to the reality of New York City is surely going to be a shock.
At the same time, I am desperate for a performance opportunity that doesn't involve checking someone else's name off the places sheet. I long for my own track - a production where I can feel like I've built something worth watching instead of trying to imitate the actions of another (fantastic and very deserving) actress. I don't know why it bothers me so much to have people ask where Lizzie is when I'm on for her role. Or to look at me and say, "Oh, you're Christy today." I know its simple logistics: we've got a job to do, and the tracks are labeled for the person that does them every day. Yet still there's that niggling little worm of doubt and fear that... what? I'm not good enough? I'm not worth my individuality? It all sounds ludicrous when I write it out.
Being a swing has taught me to appreciate not only the understudies and swings of every production I've ever seen, but also all the opportunities I've had to focus on one role at a time. I want to cry and hug every person who ever trusted me with their material, to take Pete, Cara and all of my Prospect family out for a beer to celebrate the fantastic work they do each and every year, and maybe even to call my high school theatre directors and thank them for letting me dream big. Everyone has a different path, and maybe mine is to be on hold until I'm old enough to play the roles I understudy. Maybe when I get back to New York, something huge will come along. Maybe not. I just have to hold on to the joy that comes with the job.
So until they revive PARADE and need an unknown for Lucille Frank, or one of my many excruciatingly talented friends writes a role for me in the next big thing, I'll just be here singing in the shower and dreaming.
That, and watching Judy, Babs, Liza, and Bette until all hours of the night. If you're gonna dream, you might as well dream as big as you can, right? Thanks ladies:
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