So last night was the last time I'm ever going to walk the Flagler College stage. And I'm okay with that. I feel as though I should be more morose about that. I mean, Bobbi-Jo actually cried when she took her last bow on the stage and I was like, meh. Then again, it wasn't really home, well no more than any stage is a little piece of home for me. And so many people are trying to get me to be excited to be an alum (when I graduate in thirteen days), but I'm not.
Curtain Call is my theatre. Howard W. Blake is my school. If I'm ever in a position to be particularly generous with time or money, it's these institutions who get it. Not USF, although I had good friends and enjoyed (most of) my time there. Not Flagler, even though the same things apply. Curtain Call and Blake are parts of my home.
As for where feels like home...I'm still searching for that.. Who knows? It may end up being L.A. or New York or maybe Vancouver or Dallas or Nashville. I don't know exactly where this manic, unpredictable, beautiful, crazy job of mine will take me.
I like that.