Get out of your comfort zone

Did I think when I wrote a short skit for a church service that the drama lady might ask me to play one of the parts? Well, maybe. I always, always, always wanted to be involved in drama when I was in high school. But, I was the painfully shy kid. You know, the girl who, when spoken to, jumped a foot or so in the air and croaked out the answer. You remember her, right? I tried out for one play and nearly had heart failure in the process, so I stuck to costumes, props, or whatever I could do that didn't require me to be on that stage actually saying anything.

In college, I continued the tradition. I was the actual paid costumer for the theater department. Only problem was (well, other than getting the actors there for their fittings) the previously used costumes and props were all stored in a cavernous basement under the theater. A basement that had experienced a flood who knows how many years before. Mold grew in massive quantities all over the walls, and on many of the costumes and props. It was like something out of a horror film, seriously. And it made me deathly ill every time I had to go down there for something.

Still, I managed to struggle through one semester, and I had a great time. I even had to sew some of the costumes without patterns. That was some creative thinking, let me tell you. The grand finale was that after the final show of the semester, I tagged along with the other girls from the cast and crew, and we painted the town red. Well, as red as you could paint Abilene, Texas, at midnight on a Saturday night in the mid 80s. Not that red, really. I think we went to an all-night pancake house and irritated the wait staff until they kicked us out. But we felt very adventurous.

Well, at that point in time, the dorms at the small, Christian college I attended had curfews. We missed the curfew by a mile or so that night. The two or three of us that were freshman girls would have had to ring the buzzer at the dorm to get back in. And, believe me, you did NOT want to incur the wrath of "Miss Cul."

Miss Culpepper was the freshman girls' dorm director. She was about 80 back then, and I think she might be 80 if she's still alive today. She had a towering dyed-red beehive and eyeglasses the size of Abilene. During finals week panty raids, she'd stand at the door intoning, "Sodom and Gomorrah . . . Sodom and Gomorrah . . . " over and over until the boys got a little queasy and gave up and moved on to the other dorms. If Miss Cul had something to say to you, she just came to your room and used her key. Once, my roommate was ironing in nothing but her "dainties" and Miss Cul burst in to speak to her about something. The dainties didn't phase her. We loved her anyway. (I think she actually passed away a few years ago, and probably had the biggest funeral attendance of anyone ever in Abilene.)

Where was I? Oh, yeah. So, to this day, I do not know the name or face of the person whose apartment we crashed that night. One of the girls conveniently had a key, he was out of town, and she said he wouldn't care. I think she got the bed. She was the leading lady of the play, and after all, she had the key. One lucky girl got the sofa, and the rest of us "slept" in chairs. And they were not recliners. Something about the floor repelled us, I believe.

So, anyway, that was the end of my college theater experience, and soon after we slithered back into the dorm the next morning, I quit that job and went to work at the university bookstore.

Since then, I've played one other part in a drama production. I was Mary in a Christmas play, but I didn't have to say a word. All I had to do was fall flat on my face when the angel came to tell me I was giving birth to Jesus. That was easy.

So, here we are. This afternoon, I go over to the church where we're filming the skit (we are high tech, baby), and I get to be in it. I have actual lines. I will probably have to enunciate and be expressive and all that. I'm only a wee bit nervous. It would be easier for me to say, "Naw, I'm just a writer," and pass up the chance to do something different, right? Something out of my comfort zone. Something that gives me new experience to draw on, new emotions to remember the next time I need to describe nerves. Nope, I'm doing it.

Besides, doing Toastmasters for a while helped me get over much of my stage fright, and I left that shy kid behind years ago anyway. Once I got started talking, I couldn't figure out how to shut up.

I should go learn my lines. I'll let you know how it all works out. The real draw is the cast party.