A reflection done the day after really doesn't carry the same tone, but I got home too late last night to write, and perhaps too exhausted to be clear. I wanted to cry last night. During senior speeches, I did. Of course I'm sad that it's over, happy how well it went, but there was an overwhelming need boiling inside of me to pull-off to the side of the action and cry. Perhaps I was too filled with a number of emotions to really decide how I felt, and so collapsed under the mixture. I don't know. But here is how it went. The show started late; the parking lot was a disaster because there was something going on in the stadium and we spent a long time on senior speeches, saying our thank-yous and good-byes. I felt like I had never left the place, except that almost all of the faces were different from the ones I had associated theatre with; I tell you honestly, this was a better crowd. The first act went well. Not as well as I would have liked; the lines weren't strong enough, the lights weren't quick enough, the impact wasn't really there. At intermission I ran around making sure everything was set for Act II. I should have stayed behind the curtain. I but I didn't; I went out into the audience to actually sit and enjoy my show. And of course people were screwing up. The curtain wasn't opening at the right cue, the lights weren't up, the sound effect was too loud...but what can you do? Nothing. I just sat and took photos; after all, the audience doesn't know what I know. The play ended well enough. Not as well as I would have liked, but then we ought to know by now that Thursday night is always the best show. Afterwards I was rushed outside to meet with some people who run a theatre festival for up-and-coming playwrites. They liked the show; I liked them. "We'll keep in touch." I should have been more of a journalist and asked more questions, but I guess I'm more of a writer and do better at explaining and discussing. Amy surprised me by showing up after leaving a voicemail on my phone saying how sorry she was that she wouldn't be able to make it. Josh, Alex, Travis, Aaron, and Paul came, too. And of course all of the Millers (and extended), and naturally my Bear was there, with a dozen yellow roses. : ) So we hugged and we smiled for photos and we talked and laughed...then the crowd began to dwindle, and slowly everyone went home. I went back to the dressing room to gather up some things I worried might get lost; grabbed the clothing I had lent for costumes. A certain woman was back there but we didn't speak. She never said anything to me throughout the production, except to scold me for inappropriate music that was played during the fashion show rehearsal ("I'm too sexy for my shirt"). Wasn't my fault, wasn't even a big deal, but it irked me that she kept bothering me about it. Anyway. Townsend caught me on my way out. He talked about other things the Church that comes in there every Sunday had broke, how he wrote a nasty letter to them, how he's thinking of doing more student-directed plays and mentioned Ryan and Aaron about coming back. He didn't say much about me, about the performance, about the audience feedback or anything. So we said an akward goodbye I told him I'd be back to square things away during the following week. And I left. Goodnight, Thread. Of course I arrived late to the cast party, but that's alright. It was strange to be amidst a high school party again; these guys are way more fun than we ever were. They were dancing around and singing, everyone laughing; it's the air of a room of a group of kids who just don't care. I helped make paperplates, a loved tradition by all. They were pretty good. And after their distribution, I shouted my goodbyes and goodlucks, gave a few hugs, and walked out.