...With The Light Brown Hair

I dreamt of the girl again, last night. She didn’t play much more than a cameo, but her presence was felt. In the dream, I was running back and forth between almost simultaneous productions of Book of Days, my current show, and The Mystery of Irma Vep. Not that showing up late and half-dressed for Irma didn’t work for the show, it’s supposed to be fairly madcap. But there it is. And there she was.

It’s funny. I think the reason she showed up was because on a certain level, she’s being replaced… Allow me to explain.

When I was in High School, the theatre group was extremely important to me, as was their opinion of me, of my work. This girl, especially. (Always had a weakness for brunettes.)

Now, ten years later, I’ve become part of a different theatre group, and there are specific people whose opinions are very important to me. Friends, co-stars that I look up to and admire. I’ll grant that their view probably holds a greater sway than I’d like, but there it is.

One thing’s different, at least. This time around there’s no hint of romantic confusion on my part, which is good. The chronic over-thinker in me doesn’t need to chew on that, at least.

Still. I’m not exactly sure what this brouhaha revolves around. It’s not about… validation of talent. I know I’m good, and the papers seem to correlate that fact every so often. It’s more to do with ego and self-image, I guess. Value of character. If people I care for and admire happen to care for and admire me, then Rock On. That’s all I could ask for.

But that’s not the kind of thing you can literally ask for. It’s either there, or it isn’t. Short of being myself, there’s no real way to ‘accomplish’ it. And that’s the way things *should* be.

So why’s it so dang important...