T-minus one day

Over the past few days I have been inducted into the wide world of rehearsals.  I've had a rehearsal which I flat-out missed because they were running ahead of schedule, and a rehearsal that started late (for which, of course, I arrived about half an hour early), and a rehearsal that was perfectly on time but required only five minutes of my participation. 

Considering that Helene has more than 70 people to organize for this show, it has gone amazingly smoothly.  Or if it hasn't, I haven't been able to tell the difference.

And today is the dress rehearsal.  In classic nervous-performer fashion, I have gotten my costume and makeup and juice boxes and book (critically, because it is scheduled to last five hours) all ready... and I don't have to leave for another hour.

My tech rehearsals were largely for miscellaneous things: this tango act, for example, which was at one time before my own act and has since been moved; and the finale.  (It was the tango rehearsal that I missed, which might be okay...because I still don't know the steps.)  But I also had my own tech rehearsal earlier in the week.  This was where the crew and I figured out things like where my mats would be placed, and exactly how high I wanted the bar hung.  (I am also learning all kinds of fascinating stage jargon: "spiking" the rope means putting a bit of fluorescent tape in the spot where it should be hung for my act.  Different from spiking the punch.)

We also made a small change to the end of my act: I still hit the floor (gracefully), but then I roll off sharply instead of pressing up slowly.  This is in an effort to keep things crisp and dramatic and energetic.  I had a small audience of about a dozen for my tech rehearsal, and I only heard one person laugh when I dropped to the mats at the end of the act.  One out of twelve is pretty good.  I'm interested to see how it goes this afternoon, when there are likely to be more people watching.

Only for "interested," read, "slightly terrified."

Because, yes, this is all slightly terrifying, but when I was in my rehearsal, and the lights were on (kind of) and the music was playing and I was in costume, I was hanging from my ankles in the fastest part of the spin and thinking, "wow, I'm really doing this.  I've been wanting to do this for most of my life, and now it's finally, actually happening."

So the one thing I'm not worried about is remembering to smile.

And now, some obligatory self-promotion:

(And if you happen to be in Austin and not San Francisco this weekend--which is your only possible excuse for not coming to the Showcase--my good friend Jason also has a show with the fine folks of Blue Lapis Light.)