The Series Of Choices That Lead Me To Being Really Into Collegiate Musical Theater

It’s times like these (9:00 pm on a Thursday) when I look around and I think to myself: how did I get here? By here, I mean being the producer (a Virgo who works in the lucrative field of childcare but is really good at bossing people around) of a collegiate musical theater production. Was it something in my high school experience? Does it have to do with the unfortunate cosmic twist of Hamilton coming into existence when I was a mere 12 years old? To fully understand my current circumstances, we must go back to the beginning. 

When I was eight years old, my mother played me Rent the Musical in the car. However, instead of explaining the actual plot of the show (gay people dying of AIDS and robbing their landlord) she told me that it was about “artists” in “New York.” Artists you say? So that’s what you call people who kiss girls and sing about it? I want to be one of them!

Shortly thereafter, I realized that I could only do the former of those things. You may have missed my starring turns as “Blade of Grass #6” or “A Male Role Because I Have Glasses and Frizzy Hair.” Therefore, I was sucked into the Tumblr hole that so many young untalented queer people are. Next thing I knew, I was saying things like “Thomas Jefferson is so babygirl” and singing (badly) in my middle school French class. Quite unfortunate on all fronts. 

Even more unfortunate, these interests did not fade. No, they have only grown in my old age (20).  I shed a single tear whenever I hear Into The Woods (not satire). I still live for the hot goss about which aca pella diva has gotten the lead in whatever silly little production is going on on campus. Once I hear about a freshman dating the one straight manwhore in the entire department, a beast is unleashed. I revert. Although, is it really reverting if you never changed? Deep thoughts on the Pinky Toe main for today. 

In any event, I thank the lord the Boston University theater scene has deemed “producer” a necessary role. Something fit for a girl just like me: no talents, loves gossip.