Eat, Breathe, Sleep, "Perform"

Essay by armoredvehicleHigh School, 12th gradeA+, August 2006

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Performing is what I was born for. I'm not saying I'm good at dancing, singing, or acting - I am simply saying I love the activities. I feel this rush, this pulse, this life and this light form inside of me when I know I'm about to go on. I stand still and feel the excitement mounting. Hear my cue and walk out. Slide into my position. Listen and love the silence of anticipation. Tick. Tick. Tick. And in a flash, I start. The second the music comes on, a flame grows from the inchoate sparks within me. With my first move comes an explosion of energy and a lust for more. The hummingbird in my heart beats its wings faster and faster as the blood rushes through my veins, bursting as if my blood were a river breaking through a dam. I don't have to fake a smile because I am genuinely happy.

When my time performing is over, I feel ecstatic, but I don't feel tired. However, if I wait about one minute, I could pass out exhausted. The rush is gone, and as it leaves, my body is drained of any physical power. Mentally, I am over-stimulated from remembering one move after the next and then having to tell my muscles to stop when the only desire my body has is to keep going. Welcome to my world. Performing is the greatest feeling in the world, but arriving at a performance can be a nightmare if not approached correctly.

During the last two weeks of May, random people are seen scurrying through the choir room in an attempt to find a seasoned choir member to help them remember and sharpen the audition dance. Groups of girls, all the same vocal part, are gathered together around the...