Curtains.

Well, the show I've been performing in has closed. We finished our run yesterday with a solid performance. (I thought so, anyway.) Afterwards, we went to La Cazuela, drank margaritas, ate nachos, and got nostalgic. The end of a show always holds a sense of loss for me. On the one hand, I have my life back. My evenings and weekends are my own again. On the other hand, however, it's almost as if a little family is breaking up. Theatre requires so many man-hours. You spend so much of your time working with the cast, crew, director, etc. You quickly forge strong personal relationships with your co-workers. You spend additional time thinking about the show, going over your script, etc. So, when it's over, you have a feeling of not quite knowing what to do with yourself for a bit. Anyway, I will do whatever I can to keep in touch and hope for the very best.

As we walked off stage on Sunday, the director was there in the wings, crying. Which certainly didn't help my emotional stability. Then, when I walked into the women's dressing room, my fellow castmate was crying. Which almost pushed me over the edge. I guess we were all a little upset because the show was a really good experience, because we'd really enjoyed one another during the rehearsal and performance process, and because we actually like one another. It is sad that we won't see each other as much in the coming weeks. Everyone has their own projects, their own lives.

Anyway, I plan to keep in touch. Onward and upward.