Dear Theatre,

I’m sure that at this point, you’re thinking, “Seriously, stop writing me letters until you get this figured out.” Which is understandable; nobody likes to see a badly beaten dead horse.

Well, hear me out, Theatre, because I think it’s actually happened. I’ve finally figured out why we’re meant to be together forever.

I don’t know why it took me so long to see something that has been staring me right in the face, but somehow I managed to squint a bit and make it come into focus.

Both of my college majors have been working together all these years to create the perfect career for me, and I’ve never actually acknowledged how awesome that is. I’ve found a way to act through my words. I write for people who don’t have the time or skill to do so, and I owe about 50% of that to you.

You taught me that you can’t just hop up on stage and be somebody else. You taught me to dig deep, learn as much about that character as possible. What would they choose if they had to decide between fried chicken or spaghetti for supper? Maybe they had an old roommate who made the worst spaghetti and never wanted to see a plate of noodles again . . . or maybe they’re on the paleo diet. It may sound trivial, but these things matter. These are the details that you need to know to immerse yourself, and these are the details that are convincing.

This is my way to be on stage when I can’t seem to carve more than 45 minutes out of my day to listen to myself think. I may not be at a point in my life where I can spend three hours, six days a week at rehearsal, but I’ve found a way to be an artist amidst the everyday and bring some money in for my family. That is good. That is a good thing, and I owe a large part of it to you.

So, I’m sorry for all the whining. Life happens and makes things complicated. The things that were once so clear to you can become blurry to the point that you can’t even recognize them anymore . . . and sometimes you have to feel around in the dark for a while to find your glasses.

Someday, I hope we’ll be little old ladies together. I have every intention of being that one woman who is in every other Community Theatre show, playing the crotchety old neighbor . . . until then, however . . . this is good.