Julius Caesarna Monologue

Feeling the plush of the soft, red seat on my back I close my eyes to fully absorb to the story. It is a bitter melody, and yet a hopeful one; melancholy. While the sound flows through my body I slowly open my eyes to again see the story. Overthrown with emotion, I look across, seeing other people here with me in the same spot, yet having remarkably different experiences. Suddenly, the music erupts and the voices roar. The person I’ve learned to know as Mark is mourning a loss. I, too, am mourning the loss, as these characters have become part of me in these heart-wrenching two hours.

At that moment I was transformed. Inspired. And at that exact moment I knew that I would be on stage. Whether playing a main role or a simple extra, I knew I would be on that stage. I want to inspire. I want to move people to a different world that I helped to create. I want to make people think, to wonder, to laugh, and to be brought to tears. I want to be the reason someone pursues theater. I want to make someone feel the way I felt that night at Rent.

There’s just something about being on stage that makes you forget everything else except the story you are creating for the audience. After that performance I did everything I could to learn more about drama. Going to the library and borrowing song books, watching interviews, and listening to cast albums and clips from shows filled my time. I learned about the best composers, like Sondheim and Rodgers and Hammerstein. Even my English assignments became linked to my love of drama, writing biographies about Sondheim and creating mixes of famous work for music