Thoroughly Theatre

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Stepping through the obese doors of the Ocean City High School auditorium makes my eyes turn into time machines, viewing into my future: stage life. Mentally I am able to grow wings and soar into my stage and reach the top of that high mysterious ceiling. I find myself towards the very end of the day when I have drama club, waiting anxiously. I stare at the clock and wait to at last rush to the auditorium, so I can be alone in my home for a few minutes before people show up for rehearsal.
As I walk past the twenty-one rows of chairs to the four stairs leading up to the stage, I run my hands along the smooth, creamy mahogany wall holding the auditorium together. Everything is right, not a problem in the world. Viewing the audience I can see school spirit everywhere: red chairs, dark red carpet, and a Bill and Nancy Hughes plaque honoring the owners of the stage. I wonder if I would be so awe-inspired with theatre if it weren't for Bill and Nancy Hughes.
The first place my feet always take me is downstage center, where it's practically impossible not to smile. The carefully varnished floors, diligent lighting on the ceiling, and catwalk lights above me are carefully working together to pure perfection. All these elements working in perfect harmony causes me to close my eyes, suddenly seeing an audience filled to the back, all eyes on me as my exhilaration and inspiration boils at the bottom of my soul. I open my eyes and realize that it's just me in there, but the enthusiasm still manages to linger....
I wander backstage where the musty smells and unfinished set pieces are hidden, screaming to be worked on. I all at once have the urge, and I strongly tug on the string controlling mid curtains and it jolts forward as a beaming smile jumps onto my face. "I am the most powerful girl in the world," I murmur to myself. I caress my hands slowly down the smooth curtain, wondering if she is enjoying it, and suddenly need to fill my craving to let the curtains engulf me in a tight hug like a cape. I stand there with the curtain wrapped around me, who seems to whisper affectionate messages like, "I love you, Juana" and "Life is really up to you...find your grail." Although my conscious inexorably tells me that I've already found my grail, and it is right here on a stage.
Soon enough I realize I have taken myself to center stage. I am lying on my back, limp like a wet noodle, letting my whole body take in my surroundings. Here I can view dangling set pieces above me, hidden from the audience. I am the queen of the stage. All this inspiration and illumination stimulates the little conductor in my brain to power the gears to go faster and faster. Memories of show clips from Broadway musicals and showtune jingles are all working together as I lay there imagining Broadway, knowing Broadway, and loving Broadway!
The bustle of footsteps in hallway slows down and I know people will arrive soon, so to preserve my dignity I stand up and pass behind the dangling black backdrop curtain, pass the whirring in confusing tech and mic block, and the forever spiraling lighthouse staircase leading up to the catwalk above the audience, (I wish I had the tech crew rights to go up there myself....) and past a quite random backstage ladder, bolted tightly to the wall. I have the slight urge to go up it and quench my curiosity to discover where it leads, but I don't take my chances.
Lastly, I go back to the tech booth behind the audience facing the stage, which looks much smaller from this tiny section of the world of the auditorium, yet not to be overlooked. In front of me there are three computer screens, a laptop, and hundreds of dials and buttons. Only the powers of a magician or wizard can handle these buttons, which positively control the outcome of the show. On the stage, scenes from my favorite shows such as Les Miserables, Sweeney Todd, Fiddler on the Roof, and Shrek the Musical flash on and off while I sit in admiration of the actors, hoping I will be as privileged as they are when I am an adult. In the middle of this mental montage of monologues, I am distracted as Eddie and Cassidy, my "brother" and "sister" in the devoted and tightly knit theater family walk into the auditorium through the back door, giggling as usual.
"Oh hey, Juana." Eddie states as I slowly turn toward him, dazed, wishing the mental show could go on forever. "Ready for rehearsal?" he inquires. I turn back toward the stage, all the elements of the picturesque scene laid right out in front of me. After a pause I answer, one hundred percent sure of myself.
"Of course I am."

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