There are too many people and the lights are too bright and I can feel the tape on the back of my neck leaving a gummy residue and I swear I’m sweating so much that my bodily status of hydration should be seriously questioned.
It’s opening night of Songfest 2014: Bright Lights, Big City.
Hours of choreography practice, music rehearsals, costume hunting and skit brainstorming had all culminated into one single shining moment of nerve-induced, sweaty-pitted anticipation. I had one task: ride a bike across the stage. I prayed to God that my central pattern generators (shout out to my neuroscience homies) would work correctly, as I was sure all of my rational and logical brain processing had fled; I actually couldn’t remember how to ride a bike. The lights came up and a drumming noise came from the orchestra pit. Bright lights, here we come.
For those who are uninformed, the tradition of Songfest consists of a competition between groups to produce mini-musicals no longer than twelve minutes centered on a certain theme. The theme changes from year to year — this year was cities and city life. There are many deadlines, restrictions, rules and administrative details with Songfest, but, at its core, its purpose is to bring together Greek groups, nonaffiliated friends, staff members and professionals of their field (like the orchestra and theatre personnel). Those involved in Songfest usually survive on a solid diet of cough drops, late-night D’Amore’s pizza and espresso shots supplemented with the occasional pack of Mentos or freshly baked cookies from someone’s mom who, the angel that she is, sent a five-pound bag via overnight express. Love you, Mom.
As a newcomer this year to the Songfest world, I had the distinct privilege of working with the wonderfully talented staff of logistics personnel, production crew, tech team, musicians and, near and dear to my heart, the five individuals who served as transition numbers in between the group performances. The whole experience started for me in October and I can honestly say it was one of the best parts of my entire Pepperdine career. If you haven’t done Songfest before, do it. I mean, why wouldn’t you want to spend countless sleepless hours with some incredibly talented, hilarious, loving people and frolic a little onstage? You say musical theatre isn’t your “thing?” My dear friends, would you say that community is your “thing?” What about people? What about relationships?
True, Songfest may be centered around the creation of performances involving choreography and a progression of musical notes, but, at its heart, this honored tradition is about the community built in the process. Now, all of this may sound like mushy, theatre, right-brained talk and, honestly, I may have tapped into my artsy-fartsy side a little during this experience. Maybe that’s what we — the progress-seeking, success-driven and logos-soaked generation of overachievers — need. Caffeine consumers and individualistic forward thinkers, we are always looking for facts and figures to define us. Good facts and figures equate to a good person in our minds. At least, I know this is how I often operate.
Full disclosure: I have this tendency to base my self-worth in my grades. Good grades mean Good Taylor. Bad grades mean Bad Taylor. This basis of self-worth is especially evident at Pepperdine, where I and you and he and she are all seeking to be the absolute best I and you and he and she can be. What if we stopped with the “I and you and he and she”and instead focused on the “we?” What if we tried to be the best we could be?
I’m not arguing for homogeneity. I’m not arguing for a puree or a melting pot of a society. I’m not arguing for the loss of individuality. No, instead I’m arguing for harmony. When I am shaking and shivering behind that velvet curtain, I know that I’m not the only one shivering and shaking. I knew for a fact that there were five other individuals waiting behind the velvet curtains with me, battling their own cases of nerves. We were a community, a motley crew of students and we knew we could create harmony. In our harmony, we could be our best that night. The lights were still too bright and there were still too many people and there was still a hurricane going on in my stomach, but I knew that the six of us, the community we had built, would create harmony.
Harmony, dear friends, is beautiful both to the ears and the heart. So let’s put away the facts and figures for a moment. Let’s take our individualistic selves to create some harmony. Ayo waves.
__________
Follow Taylor Nam on Twitter: @nam_nam330
