I guess it's really now that I consider myself a part of this city. I don't know why. I've done a lot of shit since moving here: got a job, lost a job, 1 and 1/2 shows, countless auditions, many a sleepless nights. Maybe it's not until you're here for a substantial amount of time that it feels real. Or maybe it's not until you get a free cab ride home with a taxi full of Asians...I feel like I can call this place my home now.
And so much has happened in these past 6 months. SO. MUCH. Good and bad. Life stuff and theatre stuff. Growing up quickly and yet still acting like a kid at some moments. I don't want to say that I have completely changed and have become this cosmo-uppety-bullshit whatever woman now...because I'm not. I will always be the classy broad that eats 2 day old Arby's and will order the cheapest beer possible so I can drink on a budget; I've just learned so much from the new people I've met here, the people I call my family, and even myself...sometimes.
I have to elaborate on one of these learning moments because it is my top moment of the past 6 months. Of course, getting cast, doing shows, seeing shows, holidays, etc. have been amazing and definitely moment worthy, but one night in particular just...I don't know...enveloped me, is the best term I can think of.
I really didn't elaborate on the first time I was fired, except that my boss was a dirty twat nugget. When I was walking home, I texted one of my friends about it, and he told me to meet him at the theatre he was house managing at. So, I hopped one of the trains to his work. I get on, and it's just me and this guy hunched over at the end. The train starts, and the man just starts projectile vomiting everywhere.
I immediately jumped up, and ran to the opposite side of the car, and did everything in my power not to punch him in the face and vomit right back at him. But, of course, it couldn't be that easy. Because of the angle of train travel, the vomit just started sliding down the floor towards me like lava. Disgusting, chunky, corn-filled lava. At that moment, I felt like I was in an episode of Louie just because of the sheer tragi-comedy nature of it all. I just got fired for some bullshit reason, I'm on the verge of tears, and I have a river of vomit rushing toward me. I couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous it all was. Even typing it out now, it's one of those moments that could never be in a movie or play because people wouldn't think it could happen. But it did.
So, I finally get to the theatre, and I am waiting in the lobby for the show to let out. The audience leaves and my friend just tells me to pick a seat and wait for him. I go to the balcony and find a seat in the front row and just sit. It's just me and the empty theatre. It was a beautiful theatre, too; pretty big by Chicago standards. And in the quiet of the moment, I was just enveloped by it all. It's what I think church must be like for some people. It was my sanctuary. My friend then walked in and sat next to me, and I told of my firing and the journey in through puke filled swamp of CTA, all through my tears and expletive filled laughter.
Then we had one of those roll your eye worthy actor talks. But, you know what, you need one of those talks every now and then. It's so pompous and self-congratulatory and "actory", but you need it every now and again. Talking about what your doing, why you love theatre, what you do to put up with it, and why you moved a bajillion miles to a place you've never been to do it. And in that moment, I definitely needed a reminder of why I'm doing this. And I got it. And I love my friend for it. And that moment was just beautiful.
Wow, so, I had a completely different plan for this post, but it ended up being this. I'll do my "list of things I've learned from 6 months here" sometimes later, I guess. Until then, I'll relish in this small victory and buy myself an ice cream cone.
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