Arms and the Man

In college I assistant stage managed (ASM) Shaw's Arms and the Man.  At the time, I was a theatre major, and ASMing was a requirement for that course of study.  I was loathe to forego an opportunity to be onstage for the stress of backstage turmoil but I swallowed my pride and hoped for the best.  A dear friend was the Stage Manager and, honestly, I'm rather surprised our friendship survived that experience.

Last night I attended the Guthrie's performance of Shaw's play in their proscenium.  And I was struck by how little of the story I remembered.  I remember cues, certain costumes, certain pieces of the set that rolled away during dress rehearsal (resulting in my sacrificing myself before the wrath of the Director), a line or two, and a long, long night of finishing the set mere hours before showtime.  I remember waking up on the floor of the theatre, curled up in a heap of velvety curtain, shaken awake just in time to shower before my first class.

I remember that show, not as a performance, but as the experience that made me hate the process just enough to drop the major.  I loved (still love?) being onstage.  And I was a very good actress.  I would hazard a guess (based on professorial comment) that I was also a pretty kickass ASM. I took the bullet when necessary and I sweat blood for that show.  But at the end of the run, I despised every inch of that set, the direct opposite of how I felt after acting.  It was an easy decision, dropping the major, as much a result of exhaustion as it was critical thinking.

But last night made me wonder if my life would have been different had I finished up the requirements, stage managed another show, graduated with the theatre degree.  Not a lucrative career path, to be sure.  I likely still would have done Peace Corps, but I might have been more likely to side with a trip to New York upon my return than I was to fill out law school applications. 

I don't regret where I am now and I don't regret the path I took to get here.  I do wonder how this life compares to the ones I might have known had I taken other bends in the road. There will be more bends, I'm sure. And George Bernard Shaw and his play will prove to be only one groove, one turn that led me to somewhere I haven't seen yet. 

And I like that.