I detect a trend. It is pretty much a given that those who write also read. It is not uncommon for writers to identify themselves as introverts, or at least people who prefer solitude to louditude. (“Louditude” is not a real word. I just made that up to confound spellcheck.) Most of the blogs that I follow are written by women, but that has more to do with my reading preferences than anything else.
Lately, however, I’ve noticed that several female writers here in Blogburg have mentioned that they are tall. My point being that their height is, or was a significant factor of their identity.
It could be that I am just sensitive to any mention of height. I may have been a late bloomer, but I was an early sprouter. When I was around 12 or 13, I shot up four inches in a season. I towered over just about everyone, including many adults in my world. Intimidating to boys? Oh yeah. There I was, 5’10”, all limbs and no boobs. No dates for this gal, not until I graduated high school.
Who needs boys anyway? I had my studies and my music, and plays and stuff. (This is me, re-enacting the stiff upper lip. Are you buying it?)
Ah yes, the high school play! Before I attended high school, Mom used to take me to see the annual production. What a riot! ” I’m Charley’s aunt from Brazil — where the nuts come from.” Think of Nathan Lane as Charley’s Aunt. Or better yet, either of the Matts from Friends. However you might like to retroactively cast the part, the important thing to note is that I was smitten with the stage.
In my first year of high school, the drama club mounted Teahouse of the August Moon. The story is set in Japan in the months following the end of WWII. An American colonel in charge of the occupation troops wants to bring Western civilization to the natives. The comedy revolves around the underling assigned to the task. The well-meaning but bumbling Captain encourages the Okinawan women to build a schoolhouse. The villagers, however, have other ideas – they want a “teahouse” [nudge, nudge] serviced by pretty geisha girls. And there’s a goat.
The moment that the casting call was posted I rehearsed for the final curtain calls. Bow to the audience? Or curtsey? Both, maybe?
All of the lead roles were male, except for the geisha girl. I did not have what it took to, ahem, “fill” the role, so it was no surprise that I was not awarded a call-back to play Lotus Blossom. There were any number of non-speaking parts: villagers and the geisha’s girlfriends. You can imagine the indignation when I wasn’t called back at all.
I took it in stride. For about a nano-second.
Why, oh why wasn’t I chosen? Was I really that horrible? Oh, the humanity! [wrist to forehead, hand at throat – hand me the dagger so I can end it all now, will ya?]
Speaking of which, that was my assignment backstage. Goat handler.
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Movie Poster Credit http://www.emovieposter.com/gallery/inc/archive_image.php?id=3840208
Overacting photo credit http://splinedoctors.com/2011/12/
Categories: Personal Growth