Feeling: justified
Listening to: Morcheeba - Aqualung
Reading/Watching: nothing

Today explains why I do it.

Hopping in my car, rain sluicing down the windshield (Dancing-Rain, but I didn't have time), driving to school and running to the theater, my hair half finished, throwing on a costume, doing makeup in front of the big mirror rimmed with light bulbs that emanate heat like smoldering coals.

Everyone raced around, chattering excitedly, in various states of readiness, doing vocal warm-ups, frantically reviewing lines, and there are little baskets of candy on the counter, one for each actor, from the director. I grin and tuck it away for after Lent, and in secondshoursminutes the curtain is opening and then I'm on stage and it's not even like I'm remembering the lines, it's like I'm speaking of my own accord; it just happens to rhyme.

Someone steps on my train, my skirt almost comes off, but I give it an imperious tug and keep walking; the audience doesn't notice. Othello is nowhere to be seen at the top of Act IV, Scene 2, so I stand patiently in the lights for an endless five seconds until he hurriedly appears from upstage left, pretending he meant to do that all along, and he tries not to grin when I say my lines with daggers in my eyes.

Then Desdemona's dead, and I'm yelling, and Othello slaps me and God my head is ringing, but the lines are still pouring out and holy crap, I'm actually getting real tears in my eyes.

Iago throws me around and I can feel a fresh set of bruises being imprinted on my upper arm, but the audience is enthralled and my towering rage feels wild and dangerous and real, and yes, I am crying (eee! go me!), and then I'm crumpled and dying and goodness gracious it's hot in here and ::flop::, I'm dead. Really need to work on falling in a way that my hair won't be in my face and stir when I breathe.

Curtain call, I come out fourth from the last, make my curtsey, and look up when the rainstorm of hands beats harder... weird, it's actually for me. My heart is about to crack my sternum, and I'm grinning like a fool and clapping for Desdemona (Mini-Me) and Iago and Othello and then it's over and I'm rushing out to hug my parents, who were nice and brought me flowers.

Yup, it doesn't get much better than that.

All the weeks of madness? Worth it, worth it, worth it.

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