can't swim so I dog paddle

The crystallization of the idea that I might not want to be an actor after all happened at the end of the run of Juno and the Paycock.  Cast and crew were both expected to show up to strike the set after the show, and because it was part of a university course we all appeared to have our attendance taken.  Credits earned.

And then the "Underground Railroad" would come through the theatre and take away all the actors who did not think they should be subjected to the slavery of helping clean up.  It was always the same divas who disappeared, making it clear that they thought they were better than the rest of us, too important to have to participate in drudgery that involved no applause.  The very fact that they called it the Underground Railroad made me want to fight someone.  I hated those actors.  And I started to realise that there were divas all over the place in theatre.  Everywhere.

And last night the Underground Railroad took away a number of my students who decided the same thing.  Too good, too important, too special to have to clean up after the show.  (This includes my "co-director.")  Not only that, but the train didn't show up until after they had broken the hinge on the costume room door trying to prop it open after I told them not to, and after stealing eighteen dollars worth of water from the charitble organization that was selling refreshments during intermission to raise money to build schools in Sierra Leone.

Unbelievable.  It's a strange thing; I have a number of very lovely, sweet children in this group, mixed in with some real donkeys.  On Monday I am going to destroy the donkeys.  My lesson plan is, "Rage".     I doubt any of these kids are going on to participate in professional theatre, but damned if I ever release one more diva into the theatre world as if it does not already have enough.  I will crush their arrogant little souls.


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