Today was my first real day without Joseph in weeks, and while Iâ€™ve never been prone to addiction, I think Iâ€™m going through musical withdrawal.
It started this morning, when I drove to work and absentmindedly starting singing Joseph songs. At some point along the way it hit me â€“ I could practice all I wanted, and it wouldnâ€™t make any difference. I didnâ€™t have to perform those songs anymore. If I felt like it, I could start singing the wrong harmony, or make up entirely new choreography, and no one except me would ever know. The very thought felt seditious, and yet I knew it was true.
That gave me something to ponder during the work day. I spent my breaks and lunch period today on facebook, tagging photos from the play and stalking some of my newly-friended cast members.
But I donâ€™t think reality truly sunk in until I got home and didâ€¦nothing. I was almost in a state of shock. In the past four weeks, Iâ€™ve become accustomed to stopping at home just long enough to inhale some supper and grab my script before taking off for Casselton (where I was usually late). I almost didnâ€™t know what to do with all the free time.
I decided to actually cook dinner, which was quite a departure from my usual meal of unheated leftovers. (I decided on about week two of rehearsals that fast food was never fast enough.) After that, I tried doing all the things that I needed to do, or havenâ€™t had time to do lately, like doing the dishes and reading a book. All the while, I could hear the Joseph soundtrack playing in the background of my mind.
And in the end, I finally decided that what I needed to do was write a blog post, talking about Joseph and how much I miss it.
It really was a great month â€“ I had lots of fun at rehearsals, I met some wonderful people, and I was part of a truly amazing show.
I do hope that when next year rolls around, and the Rural Cass County Community Theatre gears up for another show, we pick something with excellent music, because thatâ€™s what itâ€™ll take to get these long lists of colors out of my head.