The Eternal Question

Why do I perform? What egoistic ideal drives the maniacal mind behind the voice? How dare I presume to stand in front of crowds under a spotlight?

I have been confronted by others asking me these questions. Heck, I ask myself these questions every time I get on stage for the next show. What is it about myself that I think is worth sharing with an audience? Even on a blog such as this. Why do I think my voice should be more powerful than anyone else's?

Easy: I don't.

This question has plagued me throughout my career thus far, especially the past month or so as I prepare myself to move to the Big Apple next Fall. I keep psychoanalyzing myself, calling myself out on whatever Id is driving me. And yet, I hardly feel like an egoist. I have more insecurities than I would care to name to anyone, even my closest friends, I have created more hardships for myself than I probably should have, and I worry constantly about what others think of me. Draw whatever conclusions you wish, but I think I know my answer.

I love. I love a lot. Even if it seems like I dislike you with a fiery passion, I love you. I have often said that the opposite of love isn't hate. Hate means you still care about someone. The opposite is indifference and, goodness knows, I have never been indifferent about a thing in my life.

I found myself talking to a group of high schoolers a couple weeks ago about why I teach voice lessons. I had never thought about it before, and I hadn't prepared my speech. However, as I started to ramble, my mind made its way back to a point I used to drill in to my college students' heads: Do not sing if you do not have something to say. Plain and simple. You get on stage, you have something important to say. End of story. If you don't, leave. That may sound harsh, but the business is harsh and you need to find your heart in the matter or else you'll become bitter and cruel.

So what do I have to say when I get on stage? I think it's my over-stated way of telling the audience I love them and, while I may not be able to empathize with them, I can certainly sympathize with them. Being human is difficult and none of us should be on this road alone.

In one of my undergrad courses we talked quite often about why we do what we do. It was a non-traditional theatre course, so we had many metaphysical and philosophical conversations as a group, but this one stuck with me the most. Being a small, private, Christian school we needed to discuss how we could rationalize performing a deplorable character while maintaining the moral fiber of our faith. I don't remember every argument on either side, but I remember the one that stuck with me and resonated with my story: Each human being, whether we see them as scrupulous or not, has a story, has an asterisk at the end of their sentence, and far be it from me to say I am unwilling to provide that story to those who may not have had access to it in the past.

This then leads me to say that, if I need to share people's stories, I have to have a reason to share them. I share because I love the audience. I care about their futures. I want to be able to share with them something that might help them further on in their lives.

I don't want to ramble, so I will leave it at that. I have a reason to be on stage and it is not to satisfy my ego. It is because I am locked in a relationship with the audience and I care deeply about them. If anything kept me from that, I don't know what I'd do.