this is what 2 hours will get me when the work i'm supposed to be doing just isn't happening

the signs as theater feelings
  • Aries: You're on stage, waiting for the curtain to pull back and the opening number to start. You can hear the rustle and murmur of the crowd as they gaze at the other side of the curtain in mutual anticipation. You feel your muscles start to tense with anxiousness but you mustn't let it hinder you - you must be fluid, you must be focused. You must dance. Finally you hear it - the first note - and the curtain pulls back with a muffled whoosh - you can see all the people in the audience - the spotlight turns on - your heart stops - and you dance. You dance and dance and don't know what you're doing anymore, just dancing, and it pumps through your veins and brings color to your cheeks, and when the last note sounds you freeze and wait for the lights to dim. Walking offstage, you can't help but giggle with excitement.
  • Taurus: It's ten minutes to showtime. Closing night is the busiest night of the whole month. Again you put on your powder, eyeliner, and blush. While waiting for the curling iron to heat up you put on your shoes. You look in your bag, pull out one and start to buckle it when someone else runs up to you, obviously flustered. They ask if they can borrow your curling iron for a moment - the cord on theirs is broken. You smile and say "Sure, but it might not be hot enough yet." You know it takes you longer than five minutes to do your hair but, instead of rushing them, you patiently strap on the other shoe and then revel in the relief of them giving back your iron.
  • Gemini: Callbacks. After your audition the director pulls you aside the next day and asks if you'd like to come in later to work on some specific parts. "Sure," you say. She is torn in between three roles for you: one of them is a lead dancer, the second as a principal character, the third being completely offstage and directing set production. She knows about your background in mixed media. She gives you lines to read, a song to sing, and asks for your opinion on how to design the side castle piece so that it can turn into a bedroom for the lead role. You read the lines, sing the song, and tell her the simplest answer: Of course the piece should be curved gently enough that it's rounded for the exterior, but not too much so that a bed and an end table can fit on a rotating platform on the interior. You know you have only confused her more, so you offer to try out all of them during the first week. Walking away, you feel a bit privileged. Maybe even...a tad bit smug.
  • Cancer: A kiss scene was your worst nightmare, but the lead has to be a "player" and cheat on the datemate. Just part of the plot. The worst part? They're very, very attractive, and your heart skips a beat every time they say that line - "And you shut me away every time I do so much as say hello, I urge you to open that door. Please, please tell me, help me to understand, what is going on? What...is going on...with you?" And you know, you know it's not about you and that it's just a role, just a scene in a play, but sparks fly when you kiss. Every. Single. Time. There's more acting involved backstage when you have to function without blushing, tripping, staring, or indicating at all that you're very attracted to them. It's...extremely frustrating, to say the least.
  • Leo: Your director is convinced that you're saying your lines wrong every time. "No!" she yells, "it's 'Oh Wilbur, I won't be going to the fair!' and wait for him to ask why!" She runs the scene again. And again you say, "I won't be going to the fair. I'm done for, Wilbur." And she yells it again, this time threatening to cut you from the show, even if it is the last week of rehearsal. Finally you storm backstage, grab your script, highlight the line and show it to her. "This is what's written on my script," you say through gritted teeth. At last she shrugs and says, "Alright. I guess it sounds better anyways." You put the script away and walk back onstage, a warm feeling of pride washing over you. You knew you were right the whole time. You're always right.
  • Virgo: For the love of god, WHERE is the blue sequined fabric? It was JUST NOW sitting next to the green roll but you have to put on the blue first and THEN the green! That's how the dress looks in every other version of the production, even the cheaply budgeted high school ones! You will NOT settle for this. Breathe. Breathe deeper. Even deeper. Walk around and ask where it went, one person at a time. Don't get on that table and shout about it, that's rude and the table is full of opened acrylic paint. In the middle of asking the third person you spot it out of the corner of your eye - there, in the mass of cardboard cutout peacocks. Of course. You pretend not to notice it, but instead wait for the person to finish talking and walk you over to it. You smile politely, say thank you, and with a sigh of relief take it back over to the dress.
  • Libra: The first dress rehearsal is always nice. You get to slip into your costumes for the first time, figure out if you should wear the tights over or under, and fight about whose pair of tap shoes those are. (They weren't yours.) You love to do your own hair and makeup but you know it's not good enough for the stage and the director will get onto you for it. To avoid trouble, you seek out the people that get ready the fastest and volunteer to do hair. The waistline is a little too tight when you sit down in front of them, but that's alright. The feeling of another person bustling around you and playing with your hair washes over you. It's a satisfying kind of tingle, the kind that makes you want to just sit there and /feel/ it. "Do you need pincurls?" they ask. "Yeah..." you reply dreamily.
  • Scorpio: It's the second week of rehearsal and the dancers are already doing sexual dances. You watch them from backstage, frustrated at how none of the metallic paint will stick to these stupid green Styrofoam cubes. You're supposed to have them done by now or the set will be behind - you might have to stay way after hours a few nights to catch up. While you're considering other paints to mix together you notice one of the dancers doing a backbend. No, I mean you //notice// one of the dancers doing a backbend. "Wow..." Of course, at that very moment the set manager comes over and gets onto you for being lazy and not staying on task. "And you haven't painted a single block! We are not going to have a castle with green blocks, damnit!" You try to explain- "The paint won't stay on," but they keep yelling over you. You can't get a single word in edgewise. You bite your lip, wait for them to walk off, and then calmly walk into an empty dressing room to cry tears of anger. It's so stupid to cry over something so little, you think, but it hurt a lot more than it should have and you can't help it. Or you thought the place was empty, until you started crying and the dancer comes out from behind a rack of costumes, startled. "Hey, are you okay?" Oh no. You're embarrassed, you shouldn't be in here and this is not okay at all- "What happened?" They come over to you, still holding costume pieces. You look away. "Is it the set manager? They're pretty mean, I know. I don't think they know how to express their feelings except by yelling swear words. Like Eminem." Despite the situation, you smile a bit. That was kinda funny. "What's your name?" they ask. They smile at you, and you smile back.
  • Sagittarius: Oh man. French accents? That's /so/ your thing. But oh man, any accents at all...that's.../so/ not the lead character's thing. But of course it's all just a beauty contest to get the lead role. The director smiles as she says her lines again, and you're on the sidelines, cringing at her inaccuracy and waiting for your turn. There it is! "Vell, vell, vhat do vee 'ave 'eere? Do my eyes deceive me...or ees zees...a man?" Bat your eyes at him. "I jus' /love/ older men." Make it gushy. "Bonjour, monsieur! Mind if I...sit 'eere?" Sit on his lap. "Stop, stop." The director cuts you off. "Is that a French accent at all?" You sigh. "Yeah, it is." You hear the lead snickering. 'Oh, yes, let's talk about your French accent,' you want to scream. 'Arnold Schwarzenegger isn't from France!' It's hard for you to care about her feelings when she obviously cares so little about yours. Besides, she sucks and she needs to either learn how to speak with emotion or the director needs to replace her. The criticism is entirely valid. But why does it sting when you think about how you very nearly said that?
  • Capricorn: Being a lead is a lot of work, but you can handle it. You're finally out of dance practice at 10:30pm and you're hitting a drive-thru for dinner. You pop in the CD of the spoken lines. Gotta start memorizing them now. You don't go to bed until you've memorized the entire first act. Now it's 2:08am. Another dance rehearsal starts at 7 tomorrow. You pop in the CD of the spoken lines. Gotta memorize them now. You think about them as you learn the dances. Gotta memorize them now. You hit the stage to practice the first act and the dances in it. Good thing you memorized them. You take out your script during lunch and forget to eat. Gotta memorize them now. Two weeks until opening. Gotta memorize them now. Gotta memorize them now. You think you could perform the first and second act now. You recite them on the way home - they're not quite there. You pop in the CD. Gotta memorize them now. Your director will never make you a lead again if you don't memorize your lines. Gotta memorize them now. Costume fitting at noon the next day. You've been rehearsing since 6am. Gotta memorize them now. "Do you have your lines memorized?" the seamstress asks as idle conversation. "No, not yet." "Better memorize them now," she says. She tightens the measuring tape around your head. "I know." Gotta memorize them now...now... Why don't you have them memorized? Isn't this supposed to be easy? Isn't it supposed to come naturally? Are you meant to be a lead?
  • Aquarius: Disney is your THING. Especially Beauty and the Beast. You were Belle for four Halloweens in a row and you've seen the movie hundreds of times. You're so excited there's an opening for any role at all! It's pretty much your childhood dream to be part of a Beauty and the Beast production! Of course you'd sing a song from the show, you already know all the words! You show up for your audition in all black, sheet music ready to go, and you hit every note and jerk a tear from one of the judges during your monologue. It's amazing. It's the best audition you've ever had and the first time you've walked out of one feeling confident in yourself. That role is yours and soon you'll be in the ballroom scene, waltzing in a fancy gown to the closing number. It's all you can talk about for the next two years.
  • Pisces: Oh no. Who is that over there, crying at the dark side of the makeup tables? Do they know you're in here? You stop changing your costume, overalls hanging halfway off, still holding a shoe and a top hat to run over to them. "Hey, are you okay?" Their eyes widen in shock and their face turns bright red - obviously they had no idea you'd run in here to change. "What happened?" They're avoiding eye contact...maybe you should go away? You think you saw them earlier off stage getting chewed out for having green castle blocks. "Is it the set manager? They're pretty mean, I know. I don't think they know how to express their feelings except by yelling swear words. Like Eminem." They smile a little. You realize you've already missed your entrance in the dance onstage, but it doesn't really matter, you already know the whole thing. Your choreographer should understand. "What's your name?" They stutter a bit but they manage to push out some words. You smile. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." You run into the corner bathroom, quickly wet a paper towel, and run back with it, tripping over your cane to offer it to them. They laugh and take the paper towel, saying "Thanks." You stand up with the cane like you totally meant to do that, smiling like the biggest freaking dork in the universe.