Day 27

I have this image of myself in high school. Walking across campus in all black: black turtleneck, black skirt, black tights, canvas Mary Janes from the import store. I am on my way to the theatre. I love the theatre. It's dark there and the other kids are weird like me. We are a club of misfits.

For a brief time I was queen of the misfits. I was awarded the "Most Promising Newcomer" trophy at the annual misfits ball (a high school version of the Tony Awards). My teacher tried to convince me that I should go to college and major in theatre. I smiled and nodded like a good little actress, knowing full well that I had no plans for college and that even if by some miracle I did go to college, I would never major in something as impractical as theatre.

The miracle that landed me in college turned out to be extreme poverty. During my second year, I signed up for an elective: Acting 101. I was excited as we filled the seats in the community college theatre, certain that they would all be impressed by my ability to slip into a character and bring her to life.

We read on the first day; an initial try-out of sorts. I was given a piece from a Eugene O'Neill play. My affect was flat and the words fell out of my mouth like lifeless pebbles. My accent was all wrong and my inflection was awkward and cumbersome. My talent was gone. I imagined it leaving me body; slipping out the window one night while I slept.

Despite my lackluster performance, I was cast in a one-act play. I played the protagonist: a gonorrhea germ. I was trapped, along with a syphilis germ, in the body of an unidentified host. I think it was a case of type casting. The woman who played the syphilis germ looked a lot like me, we were both short and round. The misogynist little director obviously thought that anything as distasteful as a STD should certainly be personified as fat and female.

I played the part of Gonorrhea but I didn't do it with much style or grace. That performance was my final curtain call. I knew I would never act again. My acting talent had dried up and blown away. I was no longer an actress. In my next life, I became a community educator and organizer. Later I was an activist.

Most of us have numerous incarnations in a lifetime. When I conjure that image of me walking across campus to the theatre, I realize that I am no longer that girl. Being able to distance myself in this way makes it easier to write about her.