All right, all right, this is good, this is fine. I can do this. I’m good. Yeah. This is cool.
I like that girl’s outfit. Oh, who are her friends? This is good. This is cool. I wish I had a group of girlfriends who hung out all the time like that. Are they dressed alike? Cute. It’s working for them. I like it. That’s fucking adorable.
What’s going on?
Why do they seem to be getting into a circle? This look choreographed –
No…no…did she just snap? Is she SNAPPING? Why is she snapping?
OMG THEY’RE GONNA SING, AREN’T THEY?!
Oh, it’s happening.
Why are they singing? Who does that? Nobody does that!* Okay, this isn’t cool anymore. I’m not cool. I’m not good. Let’s stop singing. Don’t dance – now they’re dancing! DON’T DANCE! Why are they dancing? Who does that? Nobody does that!* Let’s stop dancing.
Please make it stop. Please make it stop. Please make it –
All right, they stopped. Thank god. Okay. I’m okay. I’m good. This is all right. Still diggin’ the outfits.
Oh, who’s he? Hello.
…Why does that guy have a gleam in his eye?
OH MY GOD, HE’S GONNA –
And that, my friends, is how I experience the musical.**
It’s gotta be some deep-seated issue or something. I have no idea why, but you put me in front of a musical – on TV, the big screen, or live – and I panic. I feel mild anxiety just anticipating the singing, and then when the singing starts? My blood pressure rises, my jaw clenches, sometimes I even feel nauseous or light-headed.
Once, one of my BFF’s made me watch an episode of Glee with her. I don’t even remember what happened in the episode or I’d tell you, but I think I blacked out. All I remember is being shaken from my stupor by her saying, “My god, Andrea – it’s over, you can unclench your fists!”
I had, in fact, been gripping my hands in fists the entire time.
But I keep trying, because musicals are fun, right? They’re lighthearted! They’re a whimsical romp, if you will!
I tried again last weekend.
No can do.
*Except weird theatre school kids. Trust me. I know them. This is their life and they love it, so go for it, I say.
**Except for: Hedwig and the Angry Inch, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Black Rider, and, oddly enough, Grease. I cannot explain this. Well, I can explain the first three like this:
Maybe I just like boys in makeup…
Oh, who am I kidding? I LOVE BOYS IN MAKEUP!