It’s been so long since I wrote something that I knew someone else was going to read, that I find myself at a complete loss as to where to start. I suppose the easiest thing to do would be to start at the beginning, but the “beginning” even of my time on ships, seems so long ago that I wouldn’t know which event to start with. Yet, if I jump in half-way through it seems too abrupt. Which thumb tack on the map do I start with?
How do I ease into talking about horseback riding in the rain in Australia two days ago? Because there has been so much that came before that, most of which may or may not be remotely interesting. Still, some kind of better introduction seems necessary.
The number one question I get asked when I’m out on contract (after “how old are you and where are you from?”) is the cruise ship equivalent of “what’s a nice girl like you doing in place like this?” followed closely by “so, are you trained to be a librarian?”
The second answer is easier to give than the first, because it’s a straight forward “no”. Before I set foot on my first ship, I had never worked in a library, even as a volunteer, in my life. I dedicated years of blood sweat and tears, from the time I was very very, small, to achieving my Masters degree in musical theatre performance. No matter where I go, or what I become, I am – and always will be – first and foremost a performer. But as may be obvious, there is very little work in performance these days. Unless you already have a lot of experience under your belt, it’s almost impossible to get a job as a singer, and even more so as an actor. But the long and the short of it is, no, I’m not a librarian, not by training anyway.
I just happen to be playing one at the moment.
As for the first answer, well, that’s a bit more complicated, and comes down in a large part to circumstance, and in some ways, it’s about forcing myself to believe that the universe will provide for me, even (or perhaps especially) when I’m at my worst.
I came back from my theatre training in the UK to a world that was in financial depression, where finding a normal job was a trick and a half let alone finding (or landing) an audition for anything that could come close to paying the bills. I worked retail over Christmas, only to find myself laid off the instant the Christmas rush ended, and went to work for a friend of mine. When that also fell through (again, not enough money coming in to justify paying staff, especially since I wasn’t the best at the job, despite the fact that I genuinely enjoyed it), I was at a loss. I applied for about 16 jobs a week, and never got one positive response. The day before I was about to bite the bullet and apply at McDonalds (and if you know any arts majors, you’ll know precisely how dramatic a step that is), I stopped dead in the middle of the street on the way home from work (the one day a week of work that I had!) and broke down. Through the random waterfall of unexpected tears, I said something to the equivalent of “I can’t live like this anymore.”
I had forgotten that in the midst of one of my casual “what have I got to lose” moments a few days before I had applied for ships, thinking that I would never get it, because I had no experience whatsoever, and why would they hire me? After all, no one else wanted to…
A few days after my unexpected nervous breakdown in the middle of my street, I logged into my email while house-sitting for a friend of mine, and found the first email requesting a phone interview.
I thought it was a hoax at first. I really did. Then, figuring that I once again had nothing to lose, I returned their call.
Two weeks later, I had closed out the production of The Rocky Horror Show I was then involved in (and that’s a whole other story), and was standing on the pier in San Deigo, waiting to board my first floating home.
I haven’t looked back.