Musical Theater Anxieties

You know that scene in The Sound of Music when Maria and Baron Von Trapp finally figure out and profess their love for one another? This could be my least favorite 5 minutes in all of film – and that’s saying something since S.O.M. is my favorite movie of all time (I’ve been to several dress-up-sing-along showings). Maybe it is because their chemistry is so real, or maybe it truly is just too sappy – but I feel physically uncomfortable during this scene, especially when watching with someone else. No one should be this close to such intimacy. But also, no two humans should ever keep eye-contact (without it eventually leading to hot sex) for this kind of prolonged period. It is healthy for no one…

The first time my husband kissed me was after we watched the ENTIRE Phantom of the Opera movie – that’s like a 2.5 hour film. Despite my slightly see-through top and very obvious body language during “All I Ask of You,” he didn’t work up the nerve until the credits had run…

Right after college when I was living in Washington D.C. for the first time, my 2008 Honda Civic was broken into. The robber broke the driver’s window and made a mess of the glove compartment. I expected to find the car stripped of anything of value that could be sold. However, after careful inventory, it was apparent that this thief took almost nothing at all. Except my pride and dignity. My CD collection had clearly been apprized, and it had been deemed too uncool to even steal, even though it would have taken absolutely no extra effort. It felt like I was back in high school, being judged and seen as the nerd I am. But at least I still have my showtunes…

Sometimes I play this incredibly stressful mind game with myself – it’s a Sophie’s Choice of sorts. I ask myself which genius is the greatest: Lin Manuel or Stephen Sondheim. This leads to some very uncomfortable questions and comparisons. I tell myself I only get to keep the music of one. What is the right answer?

Published by imworriedmytherapisthatesme

I'm a history-PhD-turned-stay-at-home-mom of three. When I'm not microwaving Trader Joe's meals for my kids, breaking up fights and wiping butts, I like to paint and write. To cope with the endless hours I'm spending with my son doing virtual school, I've abandoned my gouache paints for the more portable, less messy tried but true, paper and ink. While he learns to read to 20 floating heads on his screen, I sit on a tiny chair, at a tiny table pretending to be a productive adult.

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