all the world’s a stage

Every day is an audition. 

This mantra is one my high school theatre teacher exuberantly exclaimed every class and conditioned me to never forget. I went to a performing arts high school, an experience defined by cutthroat audition seasons, finishing calc assignments backstage, and overdramatic teenagers. The works with a side of drama and desperation.

Turns out, even years out of the arts scene, I find the mantra applies to my post-grad life as well. Although I never ended up making my big break as a broadway diva or movie mogul, I still have the same goal of “making it” in other areas of my life.

Every day is an interview. 

After high school, I ended up landing on the business track - a dramatic shift from my drama days, but I made do. I got smart on a space I had no prior familiarity with by racking up internships through undergrad and eventually landing a solid full-time job + post-grad to MBA five-year plan. Not to hype myself up toooo much, but, I did that ish. I was ready to kickstart my career and start adulting for real. 

Before moving to San Francisco to start my very first official big girl job, I got together with a few of my girlfriends from high school to catch up after years had flown by. Although none of us had ended up on the big screen yet, we all continued to perform, one way or another. 

One of them made a point that performing is a craft that mirrors our own realities. She referenced method actors as an example:

In the process of fully embodying the psyche of their character throughout their day-to-day life, they risk getting lost in the act, completely losing track of what’s what. She framed life as a production that we all performed in, switching roles where appropriate and breathing life into the act.

“You become so good at performing,” she said, taking a drag of her cigarette, “that you eventually can’t tell what is you and what is the act.” 

Was this a statement? Or was this a warning?

For me, the biggest takeaway from my high school experience was what it taught me about how to carry myself, especially in the face of the unknown. It dawned on me that I truly never quit my craft, as the default trick I would rely on when entering new spaces was to perform. 

Sure, this helped me survive - On days when I was at my lowest, confused as hell and lacking motivation, I feigned confidence. I figured the only thing within my control was my attitude. Maybe if I acted like I had my life together knew exactly what I was doing, then maybe that would one day be the case. 

But at what point did my performance end and I begin?

Every day is a test.

After doing some internal digging and deciphering, I realized this was something I was accustomed to doing and actually have been doing my entire life. It was the familiar feeling of putting on a show, on a stage, smothered in a bright beam of light confronting me dead on, daring me to do something bold, show-stopping, unique. I’d always performed best under pressure and actually found that I crave it. 

At this point, though, how does one distinguish between “playing the role” as a strategic tactic for success or one for survival? Was I running the risk of becoming a method actor, lost in my own act? 

Let me just say quite plainly: I fell on my ass quite a few times this year - figuratively AND literally. I was humbled many times, but I also learned a lot about myself in the process.

I learned that putting on your best show every day is not necessarily the risk-factor when it comes to keeping or losing yourself. It was about whether you kept the show running when shit went South.

And, let me tell you honey, my show has not stopped running.

Every day is an opportunity. 

While some may view putting on an “act” as a facade, or a deviation away from one’s true self, I came to recognize it as an amplification of the self. 

I’d spent so much time trying to adapt to my surroundings that I became a versatile version of myself - a jack of all trades, but a master of none. I had many personas to pull from. A mosaic of past experiences and personalities.

At the end of the day, my “role” was still very much me. It allowed me to refuse to be defined by or placed in any one “box” and instead stretch across categories and characters. It is an act of defiance in a society and space that favors uniformity and predictability. 

Most of what playing a role is is truly just allowing yourself to PLAY. There’s so much opportunity, empowerment, and enjoyment in waking up every day and allowing yourself to decide who you want to be, how you would like to be perceived, and what energy you would like to embody. 

My hope is that, after playing many parts throughout my 20s, I’ll eventually settle into the bones of who I am. That’s how I’ll find her. 

If that isn’t “main character energy”, I don’t know what is. 

Anyways, I’ve decided that it wasn’t about crafting a character to hide behind or lose myself in, but it is instead about unearthing every element, angle, and layer of the character that is ME in this complex production called life. 

After all, a good plot is defined by great character development. 

And scene.