Today’s Prompt:
- Post a vintage photo of yourself, with a caption about the photo and where you were in terms of your health condition.
In this photograph, I am nine years old. I am playing the part of Athena in our grade's production of The Odyssey with the opposite boys' class. Together with Penelope, Athena's the female lead. Penelope comes into her own later in the action, whereas Athena is there doing crucial things right from the start, disguises herself twice, and when not in disguise looks pretty impressive, broom-bristle-and-tinsel helmet and all. Both characters, together with just two or three others, have to talk directly to boys.
A quarter century, and I still remember all my lines! After our theater presentation, we also performed a shortened version under canvas at an arts festival the school's involved with. I vividly remember rehearsing the opening scene for the first time there, on a makeshift stage, in school uniform, the rows of linked chairs sprawled with kids not in that first scene, which meant all but me and two boys. Bad enough that the angle of elevation from chairs to stage was straight up my dress; a huge horsefly landed on my knee and started to walk, inexorably, up, under my dress, up my thigh, leading up... At that age, I was astonishingly, shatteringly innocent of what "up top of the thighs" connoted, but on the emoting level I could very easily tell this was one of the most embarrassing things that could possibly happen in front of the boys. Yes, the critter was big enough to get everyone's attention, and yes, I just stood there and pretended nothing was happening. It only bit me a little bit. Thankfully, one of the teachers rushed up with a rolled-up script and thumped my thigh, knocking it loose, knocking me back into my body, breaking that endless moment.
Yes, part of my stoicism in situations like that was a result of simply having left my body. I was aware that what was happening "on" my body was embarrassing, and that this huge bug could bite, so I just vacated. The fact that, uncharacteristically, I don't remember which teacher rescued me, proves I wasn't there. I didn't care that much about my costume, either, speaking of body. I liked it,but if I thought at all about whether I looked good in it or not, it would only have been to wonder whether I looked thin in it. Yes, even at age nine. If I push myself, I can remember compliments about how I looked, but it was the compliments about my acting that stuck in my head. Intellect was far more important than body already then.
Other things: another part of my stoicism with the horsefly on my leg was literally not knowing how I was allowed to behave. I talked recently about not knowing what I was allowed to "like," and this school was a big part of that paralysis. I didn't know if I was allowed to interrupt the rehearsal to ask for help with the bug. I didn't know if I was allowed to know everyone else's lines, but when I got more manicky I would recite whole scenes just to entertain everyone (I thought it would entertain, I mean). I didn't know if I was allowed to ask for water after hours under those spotlights. I didn't know if I would get in trouble if I talked to the boys. When I did talk to boys and even get friendly with them over the course of rehearsals I was looking over my shoulder against getting in trouble. Everything about acting in a play together with the boys of the opposite class was outside of the norm where rules were clear, and I was already on guard for when I might inadvertently do something against the rules and get in trouble. This, except for those times when I got carried away or flipped out and knocked people over, talked a mile a minute, etc. So many ups and downs of moods, feeling like a drama star one moment and like a worthless waste of space another. So extreme, always!
