It is interesting how two completely unrelated things find a way of complementing each other, like how the rendition of “Popular” from Wicked I heard as I entered my high school’s auditorium could harmonize so perfectly with the silent screaming in my head. I was a freshman, and I had hopes of auditioning for the fall production of Into The Woods. Upon seeing the blinding spotlights shine on the girl who boldly stood in center stage, entirely alone, in front of a few dozen actors with blank stares, I found myself in a panic. “You do not belong here,” my superego whispered as the girl effortlessly sang another verse. I ordinarily found solace in public speaking and performance, but this audition felt different.“YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE,” my mind screeched as I realized that every auditioner in the room was just as talented as the first. I was out of my league. I crumpled my sheet music as I crumpled under the pressure and quickly left the room. The “Into The Woods Incident,” as I have come to know it, was not just a temporary breakdown, it was part of a larger problem cultivating inside of me. My high school is big, big enough that no matter how hard one tries he will inevitably be forced out of his comfort zone. It is also “big” in that the …show more content…
I went on stage, and with the blazing spotlight on and eyes on me I felt comfortable. I fell in love with performance, even if it was three years too late. That is not to say I have cured my anxiety; it is something I carry with me and it certainly has still led to many missed opportunities, but I have made progress. Through the successes and failures I have made since “the incident” my voice is stronger than the screaming in my
I rushed out to the truck as the horn blared. I threw my things into the truck and we went off towards the woods. I had to talk to Kevin about where the deer come from when i am sitting in the stand. He told me everything I needed to know about the place less than 10 minutes in the hot and humid truck. Well let's go back to see what led to this.
Until now, only my family and those who have had the experience of calling my house in the midst of one of my renditions of the confrontation scene between Javert and Valjean from Les Misérables knew about my passion for musical theater. For years I have endured ridicule from my sisters and their friends who have overheard me belting out the lyrics to "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof while in the shower. Ever since my first musical, Jesus Christ Superstar, seven years ago, I have been obsessed with the telling of stories through melody and verse. My heart leaps when I see that Phantom of the Opera is coming to the local theater, or when Guys and Dolls is appearing on television at one in the morning.
I have confronted and challenged myself in other realms of my life. Last spring, in Harvard's Agassiz Theater, the lights were dim and the audience hushed as a cool cube of ice melted over my tongue. Through the crack in the curtain, I noticed my friends huddled in the rear of the theater. A moment later the music roared and I leaped on stage with my troupe. Dressed in our radiant costumes, we feverishly danced, skipped, and clicked our sticks in near perfect harmony.
It was the middle of October, and it was finally time for my long awaited moose hunt. I have waited ever since I was a little girl for this opportunity, and it was finally here. So, my father and I packed up our stuff and left the warmth of Phoenix. We were leaving the "Valley of the Sun" and headed for a place called Wyoming. After two days and fourteen long hours of driving, we made it to our hunting unit.
Once upon a time, in a cabin far away, it was Halloween night October 31st 1973. A group of friends decided to go to a cabin in the woods to celebrate their favorite holiday together. Busses packed full of people were going to the party that me and Skyler had planned. We invited almost the whole school. Finally after hours of searching for our final destination we arrived. Skyler and I were the first to be at that raggedy torn down cabin. We brought the lights and the beers and the snacks , we spent hours and hours of decorating and setting up finally Andy showed up to help with all the heavy work.
I woke up one morning ready to go bear hunting with my papaw. me and him had to load the dogs up so I went and got them. We took off as we sped down twenty-mile road and out of nowhere they were roaringly load. We cut the dogs off the box they were out of there like a bolt of lightning. It took my dogs Sundance and Lilly nine hours to tree the massive black bear. We had to drive from about one end of twenty mile to the other which was about four hours of driving to get to the tree. When we got there, I got out my gun and started to go to the tree when we got there I loaded the gun and got ready to shoot there it was setting in the closest fork up the tree,
The back door flew open freely with a bang, the screen door had already blown away, then the front door flew open, then the windows began crashing one by one. We were under attack though I couldn’t quite understand why. We were good people who did good things, yet Mother Nature seemed to think we deserved this. In retrospect, I suppose we should have seen this coming.
The frontier is as boring as a blank piece of paper. Though I have always considered myself brave and daring, I believe this frontier is fiercer than me. Although we are thriving now, the first few months were an absolute disgrace. In the beginning, food was scarce and life was terrifying; I never felt so alone. I have not slept well since we left New Jersey. But, enough from boring, old me; you are probably dying to hear about how my life has turned upside-down!
It was in the early 1800’s in Roanoke County, Virginia. Roanoke County, Virginia was situated in the middle of Virginia with the scenery of the small mountains of the Appalachians in the background. Both the scenery, and the people that lived in the region were very rugged. The climate was hot and humid in August, and switched to cold and dry in January, so one had to be rugged and able to adapt to variations in temperature such as this.
It was a Friday afternoon in early July and the weather was perfect for a mid-afternoon hike through the Smoky Mountains. The wispy clouds were scattered along the bright blue sky like pulled-apart cotton balls. The sunshine was filtering through the overhead canopy of leaves.
In October of 2011, my life changed forever and would never be the same. The day started off just like any other fall day, except there was excitement in the air for what was to come later that night. Halloween was just around the corner and the time was here for me to finally get to join my sister and her friends for their Halloween tradition. I was nervous to the point of butterflies in my stomach, and I could not hold still. My entire body was alive with part excitement and part fear. I had no idea what to expect, but what happened was beyond anything I could ever have imagined. We were going on a haunted trail.
Once upon a time, there were two close friends who were walking through the forest together. They knew that anything dangerous can happen any time in the forest. So they promised each other that they would always be together in any case of danger.
It was a beautiful summer morning at around ten in the morning when my dog ran in and jumped up onto my bed scaring me. I sat up with a tired look on my face and looked over at my dog and shook my head with a laugh “Morning to you too” I say laughing as I patted her head and got up and out of bed. Since I lived right on the lake I could hear the ducks and loons calling on the lake. It was very peaceful next to the lake even with boaters on the lake.
I picture myself center stage in the most enormous and fantastically beautiful theater in the world. Its walls and ceilings are covered in impeccable Victorian paintings of angels in the sky. A single ray of light shines down upon my face, shining through the still, silent darkness, and all attention is on me and me alone. The theater is a packed house; however, my audience is not that of human beings, but rather the angels from the paintings on the walls come alive, sitting intently in the rows of plush seats. Their warmth encompasses my body, and I know at that moment that it is time to begin.
A mere mention of the term theatre acts as a relief to many people. It is in this place that a m...