Well there it is.  “I’m Not OK, Cupid” is done.  The applause has died, hangover has passed and the last embarrassing photo has been posted to Facebook.  Now the post-show withdrawal begins.  

It happens every time I do a show.  First, the whirlwind of auditions and callbacks, wondering if there’s a part for me or if I’ll get the one I want.  Then comes the real work of putting it all together in rehearsals – getting to know the director and the other actors, building a performance together.  I’ve often said that I hate process.  I’ve never gotten very much out of the road to a goal.  That whole “it’s the journey, not the destination” thing has almost always confused me.  Theater is the one place where I understand it completely.  I love playing with other actors, finding new things, making a piece our own.  I even love the dreaded tech week.  It’s fun and challenging and exciting and sometimes you get to make magic.

Once the show opens there are the performances, through which the cast gets closer, sharing lots of time, lots of jokes and, if it’s like any show I’ve ever been part of, lots of liquor.  It’s a heightened environment in which everything is more intense.  The highs are higher and the lows are lower.  I’ve been lucky in that my highs have far outnumbered my lows.

Still there’s always a low after it’s all over.  After spending weeks developing relationships and becoming a family of sorts – however dysfunctional, one night it’s all over.  No matter how close a cast becomes, once the show closes, everyone’s off to new projects.  Sure we’ll meet again.  We’ll definitely drink and/or grab late night eats at Lori’s Diner again.  It’s what we do.  But Jay and the Americans were wrong:  This magic moment won’t last forever till the end of time.

So that’s my post-show boo-hoo.  Guess I’m just the sentimental type.  (So unusual in actors.)   Like everyone else, I’m moving on to new things now, so it won’t last long.  This is all part of the process – and you know how I love that.