Something Important.

At the ripe old age of eight, I got pissed off at my Birthday Party/Sleepover because the guests chose to partake of finger painting with my mother, instead of adhering to the rigorous rehearsal schedule I had painstakingly worked out for our impromptu production of Aladdin. That same year, my cousin, Ross, veered from the script of my poetic and moving six-minute masterpiece, and spilled prop water all over my sister, causing her to cry and wreck a crucial moment in the dramatic action. These hiccups in the plan led to extremely violent temper tantrums in which I would scream at everyone in the room before dissolving into a puddle of tears and self-loathing.

When my uncle announced to the family that he was getting married, I ran across the street, literally grabbed my friend Elizabeth, and pulled her onto the back patio where my sister joined us in a last-minute celebratory production of something circus-like. When Elizabeth's father came across the street to claim her for dinner and a bath, severing all hope of a three-ring engagement jubilee, I was forced to announce to the audience as they came down into the yard that this evening's performance had been cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances and that life, in general, sucked right now. I threw props and costumes and decorative set pieces around the yard, screeching about how it wasn't fair, until my uncle came over, put his arm around me, and told me it was the thought that counted to him. I felt like an ass, cried all over him, all over my soon-to-be-aunt, and desperately tried to return their stolen thunder.

Such was my childhood.

Eventually I realized that no one likes a dick. When I direct now, I'm nothing if not gracious to my actors. If something goes wrong, I don't rip down the curtain and flip off the stage manager. But part of it does, still, remain. If I see a show and I feel like the people involved aren't doing their best work, aren't trying to give me an amazing theatrical experience, it pisses me off. It disgusts me more than I can say. And then - then Little Lane crawls back in and angrily swears at the world for putting this piece of schlock in front of him. I was thinking about that today; about how I've always had this need to create theatre that affects people, and how before I even knew what theatre was, I felt it in my body and soul and used it as a means of expression. To me, it's not something you do in your free time. It's not something you do for fun. It's something you do because you have to. Because it's who you are. Because it's what you are.