How a Shakespeare Play Saved Me (Fiery Oes and Eyes of Light)

Back in late 2005 one of my best friends, Kate, directed Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” in which I played Helena. I had acted with Kate and the others before, but something about this play was different. Midsummers came into my life right when other sections of my life were falling apart. A death and disaster caused my family life to be thrown into chaos and me to be uprooted and ostracized from almost my entire social group. One of my rediscovered friends who was soon to become a boyfriend was moving very far away. All of the other realms of my life were experiencing earthquakes and sadness.

But in the midst of all that turmoil was this play at this little church. Our rehearsals were held at a small, white church with a steeple not far from my house. When I walked through the metal door in the afternoons for play practice, all of my problems melted away because I was with a group of people who were completely detached from the rest of my life. They were not entrenched in grieving or part of the group I was in process of being alienated from. As theater nerds are wont to be, this new group of friends contained some of the oddest but the most creative people I've ever met.

There’s a warmth and elation that comes with working hard on a creative project with people like that for long periods of time. I entered the world of fairies, kings, queens, the mischievous Puck, and people that cared enough to offer arms to fall back into when I needed them. Midsummers became a sanctuary for me.

During our weeks of rehearsing I laughed so hard I cried at my fellow actors. The twelve-year-old boy who played Nick Bottom was shy about saying his lines with swagger, so in order to get him to add some attitude to his scenes, Kate told him to say “And I’m awesome,” after every line. So after this tiny boy said “[the ballad] will be called 'Bottom's Dream,' because it hath no Bottom. And I’m awesome,” we were sent into fits of giggles at how adorable and brilliant it was.

The first day we performed it was bright, but slightly overcast outside. The windows in the chapel where we performed were glowing with frost. Our dress rehearsals had gone well and I was feeling radiant in the long, light purple dress with a perfect V neckline I was wearing on stage.

I remember being holed up in the kitchen before the first show. The anticipation was palpable. The day of the first performance, the guy playing Demetrius came down with the flu. So, being the only available understudy, Kate jumped in and filled the role. She wore her jeans and a slightly fluffy red shirt as a last minute costume and she played a smashing Demetrius. As the show went on, each performance made us all happier. Our lines came out smoother, our entrances got better, and by the end were all shining in the height of comfort onstage.

There is a play within the play, so my character and the other three main characters come out and sit on the front of the stage and “watch” near the end of the show. Casts tend to gel and get funnier just like good sitcoms the more often they are shown, so by the time our third performance rolled around, I, Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius/Kate were nearly falling over laughing at how well the younger actors and Nick Bottom were doing.

After the play was over and we took down the sets, I felt what I can only explain as euphoria. The show had gone so well, I was feeling so grateful for my incredible friends, and I was smitten from on-stage romance that later turned into a real (though short-lived) one. The head fairy and the girl playing Thisbe went crazy with the lipstick and within minutes everyone’s faces were covered in bright pink lip prints.

Still glowing from our post-production adrenaline we took the customary trip to Big Boy’s and filled up a set of tables and stayed long into the evening. And in the moment of my “I’m powerful and sexy and I’m an actress!” boldness, I smushed chocolate ice cream onto the face of a boy who had been bothering me. (Who knew “smushed” isn’t actually a word?)

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream” connected me with people I would have never met otherwise. And they were weird, but those weird people loved me!

This is how a Shakespeare play saved me and what theater has always been for me: people loving me for exactly whatever I am, loving me for and encouraging me to express myself when I am feeling most alone. 

Why I Believe in Being Lazy (Because It's Delicious!)

This December, I am participating in a month-long writing challenge (#reverbbroads11), alongside a bunch of strong, inspiring women. Today’s prompt is courtesy of Neha: Name and explain the one guilty pleasure you can’t live without. ie: that cupcake shop you visit weekly, a book you repeatedly read to find solace in, etc). Then explore the idea of how you would feel if you gave that thing up for a year.

After long days I come home, make some delicious Kraft macaroni and cheese (I don’t care if it looks neon), watch Sister Wives or through a week’s worth of The Daily Show, and then waste my evening on the internet. When I’m out, it’s lots of good bread from restaurants followed by a new sweater at Target and splitting a Nutella crepe with my sister.

What would I do without these things for a year? I’d miss them. They represent my time to relax and indulge. I think there is a time for being lazy once and a while. You can be as productive as you want, but without any breaks or time for yourself you’ll go crazy.

Or maybe that’s just me. Either way, leave me and my blue box macaroni alone.

Like Mother Like Daughter

This December, I am participating in a month-long writing challenge (#reverbbroads11), alongside a bunch of strong, inspiring women. Today’s prompt is courtesy of Jessica:  How are you like your mother? And if you're a mother, how is/are your kid(s) like you?

I didn’t used to be very much like my mother. We could look at a rack of clothing and the things I didn’t like, she did, and the things I liked, she didn’t. She prefers bright colors and patterns and my favorite color is grey. She verbally works things out and I work everything out before a word leaves my mouth out. 

It wasn’t until I was in line at Culver’s emphasizing to the cashier that my milkshake had to be made with chocolate ice cream and milk instead of the usual vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup—something my mom regularly does--that I realized what I had in common with her. I started preferring my kitchen appliances be bright colors and I have a thing for argyle. And believe it or not, over the last couple of years we’ve walked through stores and I’ve said “Oo, I like that!” and she has agreed with me. 

The one thing that I picked up from her is her resourcefulness. For the last ten years my mom has been a resource for home schoolers. Whether it was people calling her from Alaska about the education temperature in Michigan, her lending from her extensive curriculum collection, to parents in our area calling about how to better communicate with their kids of various personalities, she was the one to call. The moment a problem is brought to her attention her mind moves into problem-solving mode and she’ll immediately suggest solutions providing different levels of complexity. To this day, if there’s a situation I don’t know what to do about or if I have a surmounting question I can’t get over, I know she’s the one to call.

This ability really surfaced in my life around my wedding. I had a tiny budget and a big party to plan.  All through my wedding planning I found ways to decrease prices while still maintaining a beautiful day that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

Boutonnieres too expensive? No problem, I’ll buy decorative feathers on Etsy and use those instead. Evil David's doesn’t have any dresses that are yelling my name for bridesmaids? Easy, I’ll just shop at Group USA and find gorgeous dresses for a little over $100. Getting overwhelmed with trying to choose what weird, stiff wedding shoes would plague my feet? Not to worry, there are silky, stretchy, beautiful shoes that matched my dress for only $20 at Payless. Are the churches either too expensive, not pretty enough, or unavailable? It’s cool, I found an adorable maritime museum that had a ceremony room with giant floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Detroit River for a perfect price.

Because of my mother, I’ve never been afraid to step outside the box and seek alternatives that can solve my problems just as well as the conventional items can. Sometimes the problems get worse because they are confined within the lines. If you can reframe the issue there is often a solution that is easier and will address your problem better; you just have to allow yourself to see it.

I am so grateful for my mom because by exercising her resourcefulness in her own life, she gave me the tools I needed to navigate and solve problems in my own life with creativity and power. Even if I only get a slice of the resourcefulness and creativity she has, I think I’ll do alright.

I know this is kind of blurry photo, but it's my favorite of the two of us from my wedding.
 

All photos credit to: The Best, The Wonderful, Lovely, Incredible, and Amazing Leah Sefton and Sean Proctor.

You Have Unlocked the "Adulthood" Level

This December, I am participating in a month-long writing challenge (#reverbbroads11), alongside a bunch of strong, inspiring women. Today’s prompt is from Dana: What is the best and/or worst thing about your life right now?

Since Kaitlin is keeping me from having a boring post about how my husband is the best part about my life and how wranglin' friends' schedules and bills are the worst, I now have to find something else to talk about.

So, without further ado, the best and worst things about my life are two different sides of the same animal.

The best thing is that I feel like I’ve spent most of my life trying to get to this point. At twelve I wasn’t quite a teenager. At fourteen I was out of the tween years but wasn’t Sweet Sixteen yet. At sixteen I hadn’t hit eighteen yet, which meant I still wasn’t an adult. At eighteen, I still had that blasted “1” in front of my age. I was an adult, but not really. 

Now that I’m past twenty-one, I feel like I’m finally out of the waiting game. I can finally settle in and stop trying to accelerate ageing. The only thing I’m waiting for now is for that big insurance drop in my mid-twenties and being able to rent cars. Other than that, there aren’t really any gates left. From here on out the numbers won’t really matter anymore because it’s all about the milestones.

I’m here, so now what? I am starting to understand the momentum and weight of being a human. Over the last couple of years I’ve accomplished hard things and have successfully navigated them. I have not arrived, but I definitely don’t feel like a child anymore. I have my own life, my own apartment, a husband, a dog, a full-time job. 

All of those things come with new responsibilities. I can’t spend every evening at Caribou hanging out with friends working on algebra problems over Campfire Mochas. Why? I don’t have that many free nights anymore. I know algebra, the Caribou is gone, and I’ve switched to lattes (and cappuccinos for very serious days). My life is visibly shifting before my eyes.

The downside to this is that I can see people around me who have achieved great things but I have little concept of how they got there. I can see where they are, I can see where I’ve been, but the middle is still a mystery. Despite feeling kind of “grown up” some days, I still don’t have things figured out. 

The thing that really gets me is those days that I feel like I’m in a constant lurch from being thrown around by circumstances that befall me. It makes me nervous and I worry that I’ll be forever haphazardly stumbling through life. I worry that I might get stuck on a level, forever doomed to remain young and inexperienced.

However, on those days, I’ve found the best way to get through them is to remember that I can do hard things. I’ve pushed through worse situations and that I’m very capable to handle them. I just need to keep pressing on. My life is not over. It’s not a race. I will (most likely) be alive next year. I just have to breathe, take care of whatever is within my control and keep going. (And it’s nice to have people in my life to help me remember that.)

I still maintain that these two are the best thing about my life:

 

My Favorite Books from Childhood

This December, I am participating in a month-long writing challenge (#reverbbroads11), alongside a bunch of strong, inspiring women. Today’s prompt from Niki: What was your favorite children's book?

When I was very young my parents would read me this book. I still remember the drawing style vividly in my mind.

Later on in my childhood I took to Shel Silverstein. This poetry still has a special place in my heart and the illustrations are just unforgettable. 

Right before I hit my teen years my sister and I disocvered this book. I don't remember if my mom read it out loud to us or if we listened to it on book (how we spent all of our car time for a couple of years straight, book after book) but it was a heart warming story and I loved every moment of it. It had a sad ending, but all the love I encountered in the rest of the story made it worth it.

If/when we have kidlets of our own, I'll want them to remember these books too. It's rich storytelling like this that opened my mind and built the foundation for the creativity that inspires me today.