On 3/31/05 2:51 PM, "Ruth Weiner"
Dear friends,
There is finally a regular theater major at Carleton. Several of us
are about to meet with prospective theater majors (on April 20th).
What I'd very much appreciate is a brief word from you about what
you're doing (proof that you actually survived the major), and
anything you'd care to say about what it has meant to you.
Thank you,
Love,
Ruth
5 Minutes later, Megan Orwig responded with the following:
Ruth,
Nice to hear from you. I think that to me the theater major has been a bit of a struggle. I appreciate the way it has made me think about my actions, think about my life in an emotional and important way. Theatre, for me, has been a tool to help me understand people and my relationship to them; how we interact with one another, how we thrive and how we fight, and how we find love in surprising places.
I think that many young people are drawn to the theater because they feel unaccepted in other arenas; there seems to be a place for everyone, and what's more, there is palpable recognition for what you have done: applause, programs, friendships. I came to theater as someone who wanted that approval and attention; the glamour of it all and the drama queen in all of us. But as I continued studying, I loved it for a different reason. I loved it for its challenges and heartaches, the feeling of community and common purpose. And for that matter, the way it made me really face what it was that I cared about. I could identify my life in the art I was making, what was fulfilling about it and what wasn't. Above all, it was my connection with the people, fellow majors, professors, and audiences that made everything really fulfilling. It is what I miss the most about it all.
I currently am an educational administrator for a summer academic enrichment program near Boston, Massachusetts. I sing in a Boston area choir, and am only slowly starting to come out of my shell again and audition for a company here and there. I survived and grew from my major; if I were to do it again, I would take more history classes and less acting. More religion classes and less directing. I would remember that before I could begin to say something about the human experience, I had to know more about what that experience was for someone other than me. But I would not trade a single waking moment spent with my colleagues; they taught me more than any volume of Mamet or Meisner ever could.
I would work harder than I did. And I would regret less.
Hope this helps, Ruth. Its not glamorous, but its the truth. I miss it, but I'm trying to figure out what it is I'm doing here. They tell me that's what you do in your 20's. Wish me luck,
Megan