I have a habit of throwing words together and then not going back to them for days or even weeks. I started this entry, as the below title states, on October 1st. It lived on paper in rushed pencil scribbles for a while until it found its way to a computer a few weeks later. Then life got in the way. Then the holidays happened, which is really just life to the nth degree. Now, it’s a few months later and its finally made it to the interwebs. Sometimes I tell myself that I’ll be better at writing consistently and in a timely fashion but I hate making promises that I can’t keep.

OCTOBER 1, 2018

Hi, my name is Jaci and I do theatre. Sounds like I’m saying hello to a self help group. (There really should be a theatre therapy group. Why is that not a thing?) In a world where what you do is who you are, I’ve always had a difficult time narrowing down my acceptably succinct identity. What does “do theatre” even mean? In my life, it has meant a number of things, depending on the day. 

I started out, naturally, as a theatre-goer. My very first artistic memory is when Ma decided to take me to a local high school production of Bye Bye Birdie. We didn’t even know anyone at the school, let alone in the show, but it was a cheap and entertaining activity for a six-year-old. I can vividly recall the joy and energy emanating from the “big kids” on stage and wondering to myself if there was possibly anything better than telling stories through elaborately staged musical numbers. Ma continued to encourage my love of art through dance classes and semi-regular trips to the theatre.

However, growing up in a working class household, it never occurred to me that theatre could actually be a career. When the time came, I, like many other first-generation college students, chose a more pedestrian path for my continued education. Yet four years and two Bachelor’s Degrees later, I decided that “business” just wasn’t for me. (Really, isn’t “business” just as vague as “do theatre??”) Little did I know how difficult it would be to find what exactly was for me and what paths and lessons it would take to get there.    

Out of school and completely disillusioned by the experience, I thought I’d do something completely different and try my hand at this whole theatre thing after all. I auditioned for every community production I could and occasionally squeaked by on the dance skills I acquired in my youth. It didn’t take me long to accept the fact that each show I was lucky enough to get into was merely a fun diversion and not, what I had initially hoped, another step towards an illustrious career. Still, I was having fun with this new hobby and found that a rehearsal room was my happy place.

Yet, the truth of the matter was that I had no artistic training and no singing ability whatsoever. If I wanted to keep my spot in this exciting, new world, I was going to have to figure out another way to belong. That’s how I found my way from on stage to behind it as a stage manager/assistant director/props master. In community theatre, you generally end up with a lot of slashes in your title. There’s something quite fulfilling about running a show; it provides a sense of ownership in the process – especially those late nights spent toiling away in the shop or in the wings making theatre magic. But still, most of the work that comes with the gig is just that – work. It’s spreadsheets and calendars and emails, not exactly the fulfilling responsibility of bringing art to life.   

The same can be said of my day job. I work at a professional theatre…in sales and customer service. It’s the right place but I’m doing the wrong work. Sure, I actually get to put those expensive degrees to good use (sort of) but I’d prefer to be exercising my imagination instead. The most creative I’ve been recently is in figuring out a new way to explain to Ethel, for the umpteenth time, why she can’t use an expired coupon code. I thought art was supposed to be illuminative, healing and beautiful but my bit only shows me the ugliest parts of people. Long time subscribers (newsflash: they’re ALL long time subscribers) make ludicrous demands because they think it is what they are owed. Little old ladies turn into banshees as their voices raise each time they’re told “their” seats aren’t available or *gasp* they have to pay full price. Crotchety men insist on speaking to the manager because, clearly, as a woman, I can’t possibly be in charge. (You’re out of luck, buddy, because I AM the manager!) The undulant wave of entitlement and self centeredness are soul crushing. Once a day the words, “I hate people” come out of my mouth. I would expect the dark cloud of job dread hanging over me in the corporate sector, but in non-profit theatre?! This is not who I used to be, this is not what art should do to a person and this is certainly NOT living the dream.     

To seemingly satisfy my need to be in control of anything in my life, I co-founded my own company, Rooftop Theatre Collaborative, in 2015. Now I can be the one who decides which shows to produce and have the fun and freedom to make artistic choices through directing. I’ve also been able to alleviate some of my new found distaste for humanity by adding a philanthropic component to the work. The entire process is so gratifying that I don’t even mind all the paperwork that inevitably goes with it. Admittedly, I’m making a lot of mistakes along the way but I’m seeing them (uncharacteristically, for this self proclaimed perfectionist) as welcomed learning opportunities. However, I’m also the one who foots the bill. While I’d love to solely focus on the practice of create-stumble-discover-grow-rinse-repeat, it does take some serious funding to do so. Since I haven’t been able to figure out how to bring boat loads of audience members and/or cash, most of my time and energy are spent at the aforementioned day job. And so the vicious cycle continues.

All of this is what my life used to look like:

 

As of today, this is what my life looks like now:

I gave it all up. Part of it permanently (the job) and part of it temporarily (the company). I haven’t really thought it too far out from there. My life was a good one in an industry I wanted  to be in, so why did I quit all the things? Why, really, was I becoming so increasingly miserable that it resulted in such drastic measures? No matter how acceptable my life was, it wasn’t for me anymore. Maybe it never was. I finally got tired of good enough or close enough to what I wanted, my existence had become so uncomfortable because it never felt like it really fit. I wore my life like a cheap Internet purchase. It looked great in pictures but in reality I struggled to make it work. No matter how much I tugged or pinned or finessed the fabric of my life, it was never right. It was time to face the facts that nothing is worth that much effort when all you’ll ever be able to achieve is adequacy. It was time to say goodbye. 

My latest reincarnation starts today. My first class at the Atlantic Acting School begins in 15 minutes and I’m currently writing this in the Starbucks downstairs – terribly cliche of me, I know. The few people who I told of this new adventure generally greeted me with cocked heads and furrowed brows. “Oh, so you want to be an actor?” The truthful answer is that I don’t know. What I want is to get back those first feelings of excited storytelling and what it’s like to be in my happy place. I want to be something different than what I am now. Whether that means getting back to who I used to be or figuring out who I really am is yet to be determined. I’m going to try this on first and see if it fits. If it does, great, and if it doesn’t, well, that’s fine, too. I’m only committing to a year program at the Atlantic and then we’ll see. There are infinite options out there and I’m starting to feel ok with the fact that I could be any number of them – in the theatre or possibly even out of it. 

I will be completely honest with you – I have no idea what I’m doing. But I really believe that no one else does either, regardless of appearances, and that’s comforting in a way. I don’t know what life is going to look like in a few months or a few years from now, which is equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. I was pretty certain what the future held if I had continued down my previous path and I have no doubt that the question mark is a better alternative to the unhappy probability of what was in store. So, here I go. Desperation got me here but hope will take me the rest of the way. I’m eager to see where the next step may lead. This might be the first day of my new life or it might be a side trip on my ultimate journey. Either way, it will be different and different is what I need most right now.

And hey, if this doesn’t pan out, maybe I’ll start over AGAIN and turn into a free-spirited gypsy, selling seashells and hemp bracelets to tourists along the world’s most beautiful beaches. I’m not entirely kidding.