Well, that year was...interesting.

Thank goodness for friends. If it weren't for them, I'd be committed by now. The highlight of last year: my family threw me under a bus with snow chains for the sake of the catastrophe that was my sister. She's still alive, but I say was because I disowned her. Okay, she disowned me first, but I've since shown her how it's done. But I digress.

I loved performing in high school. The auditorium was my home. Whether I was in a play or trying not to trip during a show choir performance, I only wanted to entertain.

Then came college.

I auditioned for a theatre scholarship at the local college along with three of my classmates. The three of them came away with tech scholarships. Mine was for acting. The very head of the department was assigned as my advisor, and that's when it all went south.

That troll of a man sucked every last ray of joy from the stage for me. He made performing a source of stress and overwhelming feelings of inadequacy in an already self-doubting teenager. He enrolled me in senior level courses then critiqued me as if I were a senior. I ran screaming from the campus after only one semester.

Then, I went to work. I did retail. I did sales. I worked at a utility. More retail. Collections. And finally, I landed a secretarial job in a hospital's maintenance department. I love this job. The people are fantastic, and I happily wallow in my work.

But something was missing. Oh yeah. My dream.

My poor husband has coaxed me out of bouts of depression brought on by watching DVD special features on more than one occasion. He gets nervous when I watch a behind-the-scenes anything. As practical as I try to be, my heart remains stubborn.

Then I became an atheist, and being practical lost some of its value. In realizing that this life is my only chance for happiness, and that that happiness is entirely my responsibility, I have returned to the theatre.

And finally, I'm to the point of these ramblings.

With Geeb in tow for immoral support (and because she wanted to giggle while I publicly searched for my long lost stage legs), I attend my first audition in over ten years. A local community dinner theatre is doing a production of Othello in six weeks. There is one more night of auditions before the casting calls go out, but I'm feeling optimistic. The audition went very well, and I think I may have a chance at a major role. Of course, after ten years, I'll be perfectly content to push a cart across the stage calling, "Bring out yer dead!"

Cross your fingers and break my legs. If this goes well, I'll be one minute step closer to my loftiest goal: an attempt at avoiding laughing while taking direction from Ricky Gervais.

In honor of Mr. Gervais, here's a song.