This is it, the night of nights
No more rehearsing and nursing a part
We know every part by heart
Overture, curtains, lights
This is it, you'll hit the heights
And oh, what heights we'll hit
On with the show, this is it!
Opening night
Everything that can be done has been done - at least that is what they tell me
All of the hours of planning, scheming, blocking, dancing, singing, building, painting, etc have finally come to an end. I remember thinking many times how much I just wished it was all over. That was when I was just obsessing over the overwhelming sense of not being successful. Now, here I am, on the eve of opening night...actually the morn - insomnia in full effect...knowing that it will all soon be over. Strangely, this makes me sad.
Whenever I do a "project" like this, I can't help but feel a kind of motherly connection to it. It's like going through labour and birth. It hurts like crazy to bring it to life, but then when it is finally here... that feeling of unbelievable....bliss. There is nothing like it.
I didn't love this play when we first started. I had committed to it, however, so I just kept plugging away...kind of like a surprise pregnancy (going with the whole birth analogy thing). But then there's that moment - in a split second - you realize that you are in love with it.
In love with the miracle of taking a stack of paper and breathing life into it. Watching it take its first steps and seeing it grow into something magical.
Oh what heights we'll hit
On with the show this is it!
