overwhelmed by specialness

the USF theatre department held its annual banquet on monday, may 10, 2021. I've been a member of the theatre department for the past three years, and as a junior in college, it seems that every year I grow to love these theatre people more and more and more. Keep reading if you'd like to know why.

It seems to me that the theatre community at my college is one of the best communities there is. We support each other and listen, we meet weekly and even more when we are working on projects, and we devote our time and creative energies to each other, trusting the process and our combined abilities when we create. And we are able to make some amazing things.

Enough preamble. This year's theatre banquet was incredibly special, and for me it was probably one of the most special nights of my life. I hope others felt the same way. I've been to one theatre banquet before, my freshman year. It was a 90s FRIENDS theme, and it was such a blast. That year we celebrated everything we'd done for the year. This year, we had a formal masquerade theme. We dressed to the nines and some had face and/or mouth masks. But what made this year's banquet so amazing was that it actually happened.

Last year our banquet got cancelled and so did our spring musical. The entire year was altered as we had to wear masks, even when performing, and stand far enough apart from each other to make scenes lose momentum and feel less powerful than they should. Still, we did more shows this year than we've done in any of the years I've been at USF. On top of all this, I noticed something pretty crazy this year. I felt like the community between theatre students was even stronger than it had been before. Maybe this is just because as a junior I feel very comfortable with the program, but attendance for our fellowships was up and we were supporting each other with everything we had....probably because we didn't have much.

So when it came time to celebrate the end of the year, we wondered how on earth we were going to get our massive party cleared by the USF faculty. The solution? We held it outside at a local park. We didn't know it when we planned the banquet or when we arrived at the venue, but we would actually be moving back to the auditorium around 7:30, due to the weather taking a turn for the chillier. Still, this was enough time to meet, take photos, eat tacos, and give out awards in the freedom of the sunshine--no face masks were required.

When we moved inside, we were asked to put masks back on, but none of us minded. Our director of theatre, Joe Obermueller, then announced the new members of our Student Theatre Advisory Board, or STAB. As a member of STAB for the past two years, I absolutely adored every second of the unveiling of who would join the council, and am still extremely excited for the new members as they will take responsibility of the department into their own hands. After the election reveal, the seniors had a special tribute for us as well. All 5 graduating CST majors sang "One Last Time" from Hamilton, and changed the lyrics so that they would echo how they felt about leaving: "we're gonna teach them how to say good bye... the seniors are moving on." Brady, the STAB president, then gave a speech. He told us how exhausted he was but how proud he was of the department. Ditto. He urged us to never take advantage of the time we would have at USF and the specialness of our experiences with each other.

I myself had something up my sleeve for the night. I'd spent the better part of probably three days creating an enormous "slideshow" for the year, as tradition requires. I included pictures and videos from the year that were special to so many people. The first time I made the video, it was 32 minutes long, but the version we watched that night was only 21 minutes, as I'd had to cut a lot for time. Both versions are up on my youtube.

After the video, Joe gave out some more awards and read the seniors, Oh The Places You'll Go, an annual tribute to those graduating and moving on. I heard a lot of people in the auditorium seats sniffling as he went. I was near tears myself. I kept thinking, I can't believe I only have one more year. I can't believe it's gone so fast. And before I really had time to process this, the most special moment of all happened. Again, as per tradition, Joe promptly stated, "now, go hug each other." And we did. We hugged and hugged and hugged--for at least an hour after the banquet had officially ended. We took to the stage and pulled each other close and whispered kind things in each other's ears. And we loved on our seniors, because they deserve the world.

I wouldn't call it happiness and I wouldn't call it bittersweet, the feeling that filled the air on that stage. There was excitement and tears and vulnerability, but I'm still searching for the word to settle on the heart of what I felt. I was told that I was "incredible" and "sweet" and so many other wonderful things. I was held and loved by the people that had been there for me for so long. Looking back on the pictures, I can see how exhausted and emotional my eyes were: I wasn't sad, but I wasn't brimming with joy. I would miss the seniors. I would miss being a junior and I wasn't ready for everyone to leave. I don't know if I, currently, am even over losing the last year and half of projects to covid. I am incredibly proud of all that we'd accomplished as a theatre company, but I am also incredibly emotional.

As each day passes and I continue to reflect on this, I have no doubt that whatever I felt that night, it was good. The sincerity in our hugs was so obvious to me, and the loss and grief we might have felt for the year and it's end was also encompassed by our gratitude, because when this May came, school was still open. We hadn't closed and we did have a banquet. Still, that thankfulness overwhelms me. Theatre kids may be weird or loud or dress funny or whatever you want to say about them, but they are resilient.

The most honest way I can describe what happened on the stage that night probably won't make complete sense. It felt to me like the emotional temperature of the room rose by, say, 20 degrees. It wasn't physically warmer, on a fahrenheit scale, but it was emotionally warmer--more full. Not just happy, not just sad, not just exhausted, and not just excited. I felt every emotion, and I think everyone there did as well.

The day that I exported my 32 minute long video, I texted a friend about what I had stayed up until 5 AM to create. He asked me why I did it, and if anyone was paying me for the literal days of work I had put into the project. I remember texting him back, saying "I gave a lot of myself to the theatre department," a text which no doubt sounded somewhat dark and sacrificial to him. But theatre isn't a cult to me. It's a group of people with a message so strong that I feel an unboundless amount of time to devote to them. They are inclusive, vulnerable, optimistic, supportive, and resilient. And I'm one of them.