When people find out that I have a degree in theatre, I get one of several reactions:
a) “Ohhhhhh. Oh. Well, um, what are you going to do with that then?”
b) “So you’re going to be a teacher, then?”
c) “My cousin was in a play once!”
d) *awkward silence*
To which I usually reply in one of several ways:
a) “Go into porn.”
b) “Well, that’s one idea, but I thought about maybe doing theatre, too.”
c) “Your degree is in English? I read a book once.”
d) “Wait ’til you see the corner I’ve sussed out in Toronto for my cardboard box!”
The other night in a bar, I ended up talking to some waygooks we had run into. I was the definite minority in this conversation: The other three were male, much older than me, and married, or as good as. And this time, when I told them that I was in theatre, and eventually planning to go back to Canada to pursue a career in theatre, I was met with…instructions.
These thirty-something men thought that with their vaaast experience, they could tell me how to be an artist. “Well, if you do that, you can’t be an artist. Real artists, like, real artists, don’t do that. And trust me, you can’t just jump into being an artist in your thirties.”
I said I was travelling to get experience. What am I going to write about, I said, “my incredibly privileged life as a student? Nobody cares.”
“Oh, well,” they said. “I suppose I can see where you’re coming from. I see your point. But listen, ok, and I know what I’m talking about, because my friend’s cousin’s husband did some theatre once so I know all about The Business. You say you’ll go home, but you won’t. And you’ll end up in Korea, where you Should Not Be if you are an artist, wishing you were at home. And, you know, The Business is all based on your reputation so you’re doing every wrong….”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Do you have a degree in theatre? Because I sure do!”
“Oh those twenty two year olds!” they said.
It blows my mind that people think that they can look me in the eye and tell me how they think I should live my life, or what my priorities should be, or that I’m doing everything wrong and clearly don’t have it together enough to be able to make responsible decisions about my life on my own. Like I ended up in Korea by mistake!
