I know, I’m late again. You can blame Ignitum Today and their symposium on mercy and killing, for which I spent all of yesterday afternoon writing a post. Actually, I spent all of yesterday afternoon writing snippets of a post in between dealing with unbelievably needy children.
Anyway, here it is, if you want to read it.
As You Like It wrapped up its performances last weekend. I got to see it again, and they swapped out Rosalinds and Phoebes which gave the show a whole different vibe. It was amazing seeing how the two principle Rosalinds read the character, and how their interpretations changed the whole feel of the play. I think it wasn’t until the second performance that I realized just how much these students understood their characters and became those characters. For a university without a theater department, Ave is rolling in true dramatic talent.
Also, the cast made me dance during the intermission, which was horrifying because I don’t dance. Or, more accurately, I can’t dance. I’m stiff and awkward and the second dancing starts I flee in terror, but in a small classroom there wasn’t any place to go, so I danced. Awkwardly.
But God bless the actor who played Oliver, the one who made me dance and wouldn’t let me bow out with, “Um, you know I really can’t dance, okay?” He was charming and sweet and not at all wigged out by my awkward pregnant stumbling. He just spun me around and smiled until I relaxed enough to begin moving slightly like a human being, which was a much greater triumph than I think he realized.
|The man himself, Dr. Travis Curtright, receiving an engraved Zippo from the cast. Nobody gives gifts like college students.|
As luck would have it, the incredibly talented director of the performance just happens to be our next door neighbor, so we got to crash the cast party! (We were invited, actually.)
It was a little bit awkward for me because even though I’m the wife of a professor and all, I’m not that much older than the students. Also, I never left the mentality of a college student behind in order to become a mature wife and mother because 1) I was still a junior in college when my daughter was born and 2) growing up didn’t sound like a whole lot of fun at the time. (It still doesn’t.)
But these students kept calling me Mrs. Alexander, which made me feel super weird, and obviously I couldn’t just be like, “No, call me Calah, and let’s hang out sometime” because I am the wife of a professor and that would have been even weirder.
Still it was fun, even though I think I might have cornered a poor senior into discussing the differences between UD and Ave Maria’s curricula for a little too long, and as we were leaving this cheeky girl above who played Rosalind said, “Jaques is out front if you want to say bye.”
Those of you who read my review might remember that the actor who played Jaques was so hilarious and adorable that I was totally crushing on him by the end of the play.(You know, the kind of movie-star actor crush you get on Ryan Gosling or Josh Hartnett or Robert Redford in The Sting.)
So out front I went, where I bid farewell to the cast, told them again how fantastic they all were, and then pointed to Jaques and said, “Especially you.”
They all laughed, and so did I, because it was funny, you know?
|Look at his face! What he really wants to say is, “Mrs. Robinson, you are totally creeping me out.”|
Then we walked home. And when we got home, I heard all the college kids out in the back yard, playing with the kids, and I smiled fondly, and then all the sudden it hit me.
I’m the wife of a professor and I just made a jokingly flirty comment to a student.
Do you know what they call women like me? Cougars.
I actually sat on the bed and stared blankly at the wall in horror for five full minutes. I’m old, thought I to myself. I’m old. I’m not a college student anymore. I have to grow up and be all professional and serious and not joke with the students anymore because they probably only laughed out of politeness and really they’re all talking about how creepy I am now. OMG! I’m old and creepy! I’m that old creepy lady who doesn’t realize that she’s old and creepy and still tries to hang out with the college kids! Kill me now!
|Here’s a picture of the poor kid in question, because I’m not creepy enough. I’ve probably scarred him for life.|
The Ogre tried to comfort me by reminding me that I actually am closer in age to the college kids outside than I am to him, my own husband.
It was comforting. I felt marginally better until I looked at the calendar and realized that in two weeks I’ll be 28, at which point I will officially be closer in age to my husband than I am to the 21-year-old college kids.
There’s only one thing to do now, I guess. Have a proper mid-life crisis and go get my nose pierced again for my birthday.
And maybe streak my hair purple or something. Nothing says, “I’m having a mid-life crisis” quite like a bad dye job, after all.
Have a great weekend, everyone! Go and see Jen for more quick takes. If I’m not back on Monday, you can rest assured that I’m probably holed up in a tattoo parlor somewhere, trying to figure out which version of a butterflied ankle would best recapture my lost youth and coolness.
Scratch that. I was never cool. I’ll be doing laundry and cleaning out the refrigerator.