The theatre is newly redone,
with replaced carpet and tiny red lights on the lip of each aisle step and the red seats are now a hideous mustard yellow in an attempt to match our school’s colors, black and gold, but the change of appearance doesn't change the relief I feel when I step onstage, the weight of the world lifted off of my shoulders, replaced with the glitzy shawl of a new persona, a character I must become. I walk confidently on the panels of wood, repainted every year or two to cover up the scuff marks from tap shoes and high heels which click clack on the stage no matter how quietly you try to walk, and it follows you backstage, as the hardwood changes to linoleum and the heavy heat of a spotlight changes to the harsh glare of a fluorescent, and I remember the time I accidentally knocked a light out, during the summer of 2011, with my queen’s scepter when I nearly missed my cue and hurriedly grabbed it off of the prop table. And I’ve never been much of a makeup wearer but I have to onstage, and I’ve given myself a black eye trying to scrub off the bottom eyeliner, but I can handle foundation like a pro and put on lipstick without a mirror, the tiny stubs in their plastic cubicles, their varying shades of red and brown and pink looking like the contents of a trash can after Valentine’s Day, and the counter is cluttered with the makeup, as well as earrings and necklaces and rings all tangled together, a web of shiny things to get distracted by, and as I put on my costume for Act II, throwing the 40s-style dress on the ground, letting it mix with other outfits that couldn’t find hangers, a girl frantically looks for her bobby pins, blonde ones like her hair, not black, and the helper mom, the one who always brings grapes and pins hemlines, pauses from spraying another girl’s hair with Aqua Net and yells at her to be quiet, and it is, for a moment, until the audience begins clapping, signaling the end of the scene, and we’re thrown back into chaos, and I smile. *This is a writing assignment from my ENG 285 (Intro to Creative Writing) class, and I really liked it. My first attempt at a poem! Leave a Reply. |
BellaBSU student
Musical fanatic Lover of books and all things cake-related Archives
April 2018
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