(This is a repost from my earlier blog, dated March 4, 2014)
I don’t know what I was expecting when I posted the above photo to Facebook the other day, but the response has prompted me to consider what I’ll just call “social molting.”
Some background: my office was overdo for a cleaning the other day. One of the joys of decluttering for me is uncovering flotsam from the past. Paydirt! I found headshot proofs from 15 years ago, from when I was living in NYC as a recent theatre graduate. At that time, I was teaching acting and scriptwriting in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn through an internship with WP Theatre, taking classical voice lessons, and auditioning for shows. I haven’t been in a show in 5 years, but acting and singing classically was my life for about a decade. And I still love singing in the shower!
Before throwing the proofs away (because what am I going to do with them?), I took a photo of this one and shared it. As it turns out, many of my current friends had no idea I was ever a singer/actress. I’m now a transportation advocate, a life that looks quite different in many ways from the theatre world.
What I learned at life today: we molt as we grow older, don’t we?
We were children; then we got taller. You might still be with the first love of your life, but most likely you look back on your first love-soaked insanity and chuckle. A sister opened a business. An uncle got a divorce. Your life may have seemed complete for a moment before it shifted, molted, changed.
I’ve had a lot of jobs. Some jobs I hoped would help define me; there are others I hope no one will ever hear about. As it happens, there is not a single person in my life who knows of my life in Alaska, NYC, China, Thailand and back in Portland. It’s amazing. It’s depressing. It makes secrets a little more delicious.