So there is this whole spiel that I told in my cabaret about how I discovered theater. The short version is my Grandma took me to see Les Miserables on Broadway on my fourteenth birthday. That was it. I was bitten. That is exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to sing depressing belt ballads…hysterical.

My first opportunity to show off my voice (that popped out from nowhere) was a Phantom of the Opera concert. I was playing Christine along with 3 other girls! I got to sing “Think of me” as a trio with my best friend Lisa Hobson, and my biggest high school crush Christopher Robin Burgess.

I wore a gorgeous green velvet ball gown. I wore my hair up and cleverly disguised the bald patches that came from a disastrous home perm with jeweled barrettes and green feathers. I forgot to bring the appropriate shoes, so I went barefoot. I took my place on stage. I was singing the second verse, Lisa the first. I could hear her pretty voice. She was nearing the end of her verse.

Erik (my second biggest high school crush) turned to me and said “It’s almost time.” Without looking at him I murmured “I know.” I had this odd sense of calm. I floated out to my spot and sang my verse. I was so happy and sure of myself. Even with bald spots, bare feet, and it being my first solo of my life, I was fearless. I didn’t know squat about supporting or breathing or intentions or objectives or body language or focus points or love or loss or ANYTHING.

All I knew was that I was home. I was happier in that moment than I had been in my life up until that point. I felt lucky and grateful to be on stage that night.

I would like to ask the theater Gods to give me just a touch of the pure joy that I felt that night from time to time. That’s why we do this.

All my love and wishes,

Harmony

I’ll show you mine if you show me yours!!

This was taken two days after falling off the stage in the middle of a cabaret that I was doing a little over a year ago. I fell straight off.  My legs broke the fall on some steps (thank god) and I landed on my chin. The most ridiculous part of this story is that the next part of the joke I was in the middle of was to drop and do push-ups. So I did them anyway, on the floor in a puddle of blood. I tried to go on with the show with blood POURING down my body. I was shocked with how much blood there was. The only reason I finally left the stage is because I couldn’t get my face to stop gushing and the audience was looking at me in horror. I tried sopping it up with my scarf, I poured water over my chest to wash away the blood. I even made a Sweeney Todd joke. I tried so hard to keep going. The sense was completely knocked out of me. I must have looked like a raging lunatic.

Anyway, I spent the night in the ER getting stitches in my chin and x-rays on my legs. They actually put me at the top of the waiting list since I looked like someone had slit my throat or like I was an extra in a Freddy Kruger movie. My beautiful friend Lindsay Naas stayed with me and brought me chocolate and a laptop to play on. It meant so much to me. A hospital can be a very lonely place to be.

Luckily, none of my injuries were that serious, but I will say that I STILL have a bruise on my left leg from over a year ago. It’s quite unsightly, but it’s my battle scar. I’m proud of it. Not necessarily proud of how I got it, that’s just embarrassing. But, proud that I suffered for my art! I’m so method.

****A COLLEGE ESSAY THAT I WROTE ABOUT GETTING BITTEN BY THE BUG. SOMETIMES IT’S NICE TO REMEMBER WHY WE DO THIS.****

On my fourteenth birthday my Grandmother came to visit me in upstate New York. She told me that I had to go put on a dress. We were going to the city! I berated her and my mom the whole way to New York City to tell me what we were going to do. They told me that I would just have to wait and see. We drove into Manhattan and ate at a little French bistro. I was so excited, that I could barely eat. Finally, after dinner, my Grandmother said to go outside and look next door. I found a building with a big sign that said LES MISERABLES. I had no idea what that meant, but the mystery was solved. I was going to see a Broadway musical!

I was mesmerized. The show was not like anything I had seen in my life. I loved everything about the theater, the actors, the costumes, and especially the energy. Everything was turned up a notch. It seemed magical. I cried bitterly with Fantine, yearned desperately with Eponine, and laughed gleefully with the Thenardiers. I found myself both in awe and jealous of everyone up on the stage. I wanted to be with them.

Shortly after, I was cast in my first musical. I was a chorus member in BABES IN ARMS. I didn’t have a big part, but everyday I was the first one to show up and the last one to leave. I lived, breathed, and slept the play. Nothing else mattered to me. I had never felt so alive, so attractive, or so confident in my life. I did every single play that came my way. Sometimes I did two plays at once. I was hooked.

I decided that I was going to finish high school, go to Juilliard, and be on Broadway by my twentieth birthday. I would have my first starring movie role by twenty-two. I’d hop back and forth between Broadway and Hollywood with the perfect career. I would win both an Oscar and a Tony by twenty-five. After which, I would marry the perfect man and have 2.5 fascinating, brilliant, and talented kids.

Well, life doesn’t’ work like that. In my junior year of high school, my parents declared bankruptcy. We moved from our home in upstate New York to a town in the Southern tip of Georgia. I skipped my senior year of high school and decided to attend Brenau University. I was a music performance/theater major. At sixteen I was the youngest person to be granted a music scholarship in the history of the school. The pressure on me was intense. I didn’t know how to balance my love of music and my love of theater. I felt both departments pulling me in different directions.. And while I loved Opera, I did not think it was the right field for me. After two years, I went home to figure out what my next step would be.

I joined the Navy, rather rashly actually. I decided to take advantage of an offer to join Navy Intelligence, where I would qualify for the G.I. college assistance program. I have been in the Navy for six years. Here I am at twenty-six, no Oscar, no Broadway shows, and no perfect man. And while I’m not where I dreamed about being when I was fourteen, I’m better off. I’ve been all over the world and met many people of different cultures and backgrounds than myself. I had the privilege of performing for many memorials including the U.S.S Cole and September 11th, in tribute to my fallen comrades. I volunteered my time helping needy children and families. I was awarded two Navy Achievement medals and a Veteran’s of Foreign War’s award. I was nominated for Volunteer of the Year for three years in a row. I am proud to have served my country, especially in these uncertain times. I have grown and changed  as a person, and gained a level of discipline that matches the determination and drive that I have always possessed.

While many things about me have changed throughout the years, the one thing that never changed was my desire to be an actor. The Navy was always just a means to an end. I had six years to change my mind or my direction and I never faltered. To me, that was the final test. This is not just a phase. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life. The feeling that I get when I walk into the theater, whether it’s to perform or to chip paint, is unparalleled to anything I’ve felt in my life. I’ve lived in eighteen places in twenty-six years, but when I walk up onto that stage, I’m home.