An explanation for stupid.
As I sit here staring blankly at my computer screen, wondering why I am unable to string three words together, I wonder how I am still functioning at all. For community theatre people, the phrase, “Tech Week”, is all I have to say to receive sympathetic nods and wordless groans from those who understand.
We’ve just entered two weeks of technical rehearsals in the theatre. An exciting time – for now. But adrenalin can only carry you so far before ‘stupid’ starts to set in. I have been around long enough to embrace my ‘stupid’ and celebrate her arrival with the knowledge that her stay will be short lived.
‘Stupid’ is the person who –
- can be standing in front of her own car in the carpark and wonder [out loud – to no one] where she parked.
- can spend ages searching for her spectacles that are on her face.
- can walk into a room and forget why she went there.
- can get all worked up and swear like a sailor at the EFTPOS machine for not accepting her card until the sales assistant quietly points out she’s using her medicare card.
- can undress at the end of the day and realise she’s been wearing her blouse inside out all day – and she’d had a meeting with a client.
- can look at the word ‘who’ for two minutes, unsure if she’s spelled it correctly.
This person spends her day with her brain parked securely in neutral only to turn up at the next technical rehearsal and answer dozens of questions, solve a myriad of problems, notice when someone isn’t themselves and, in my case, stay awake past 10pm [I turn into a pumpkin at 9:30].
I love the fact that I can walk into the theatre and feel that my ‘stupid’ is understood and accepted. Bring on what ya got, tech week. I can handle it. I got my ‘stupid’ buddies by my side.