The curtain opens and I am born. Brightly colored light seeps down from the rafters above me. The energy around me is engulfing, and I welcome it. This is what I love.

I was six years old when I was in my first show, and everything amazed me. The lights, the costumes, the choreography, all were wonderful. On opening night, after the temporary blindness of the spotlight, the thrill I got from speaking my first line and hearing the applause was incredible. I was in love, and growing up in my own enchanted kingdom.

But like all fairy tales of childhood, the wonder soon left. I began to learn how things worked and why they worked. And I discovered that to fulfill my dream, there was much I needed to learn.

When I got my first lead role at twelve, I was ecstatic about doing this seriously. Mid-rehearsal, I was told that I now had all the theatrical knowledge of "your average college freshman." The stress of dress and tech rehearsals really got to me, but as I looked around during curtain call on opening night, I saw the faces of my fellow players, all thrilled at our accomplishments. I was back in my fantasy. c