When hope was high and life worth living.

Here's a question: can you ever make a conscious decision to be less serious?

And where do we find the line between living life passionately and living life enjoying it? What's been driving me the last few weeks has been the intricate dance of decision and follow through that's come with being a producer. (stuff like: does this person get a free beer? how do we get rid of the fire chief? who died?!) Passion almost doesn't describe it. But putting my full intention and weight behind a show this good? Easy peasy. Encouraging people to see this show was like breathing; it seeped out of every pore and made its way into every conversation.

Sorry if you were annoyed. But not really.

More people needed to see Tommy. About two weeks before we opened, we sent letters with comps (that's right, FREE TICKETS) to artistic directors and casting agents and managing directors around the Bay Area - inviting them to come. This was my crazy brainchild; if even one of those people came, it would have been a success. But my reasons were clear and laid out - OPEN ARTISTIC DIALOGUE...let's all talk about how to make theater better.

What makes me happiest? Having two directors, three producer friends and a slew of other technical people all step forward and make it known that they wanted to take part in the next Ray of Light Show. THAT makes me excited; people always want to be a part of something good. People who want to come back - people who normally get a paycheck. Because this show was something no short of wonderful. The dancing, singing and acting, quite honestly, beats anything in the Bay Area I've seen lately. (to be fair, I haven't seen American Idiot yet) And this isn't just me, it was every reviewer and patron who came to see this show.

Cause, as cheesy as it sounds. I have a dream.

That people in the Bay Area will STOP HOLDING BACK. Stop letting themselves have limitations. Stop turning in a mediocre product and then wondering why they're 1 million dollars in the hole or have to lose a theater space. Stop letting go of wonderful actors to try to meet the bottom line. Cause what you have to understand is that your people ARE your bottom line. If you're doing your best to serve your artistic community (both performer and audience), then you're doing a good thing.

But I realized, yesterday while chatting with our Dance Captain at the cast party, that it was neither the time nor place to have this conversation. She's a snarky, snappy, cutie patootie of a babe that is more interested in partying than having a conversation about the future of the company.

But it's still what I dream.