Forever young

 One week.

How strange indeed that six years will officially be behind me in seven days.

It should come as no surprise that I spend a lot of time thinking about "growing up"--or rather, growing old (because who ever really grows up?).

One of the highlights of my day was helping out with a voluntary strike call in the theatre. There was only a little bit left to do, but it was very important work, and I was honored to actually be useful to our lighting designer. He taught me how to drive a scissor-lift and together we struck the vertical strip lights that were easily 50 feet in the air.

A side note: I'm terribly scared of heights. The fear can be crippling. Honestly, I'm more scared of falling than I am of heights. Strangely enough, my strongest memories with this fear are of the times that I boldly faced it head on. Today was one of those times.

I had to be brave, recall my dormant technical knowledge, and work quickly while keeping everyone around me safe. It was all quite exhilarating.

But the lighting designer kept getting nostalgic on me. I don't blame him; he was my first acting teacher freshman year and continued to teach me right up until now. He's directed me in shows, worked with me in production, and introduced me to the art of lighting design. Furthermore, I babysit his kid, adore his wife, and have confided in him when I felt most alone. Long story short: we're close.

He can be a bit of a grouch, but he's a man with the best intentions. He's more of a thinker. He's always been this loftier mentor-figure to me, but up in that scissor-lift, 50 feet above the Vinik stage, I had a revelation.

This guy was my age once.

I know that sounds so silly. Of course he was your age once, Shanti. Don't be dumb.

But for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of the dorky theatre dude that he once was: a young, driven kid who felt the need to devote and donate his mind, body, and soul to the theatre. The great thing about being a kid is that you can do just that; you're not beholden to anyone and you can immerse yourself in late-night rehearsals, binge-level caffeination sessions, and a wonky schedule that revolves around what you do.

That's the life that I'm headed towards right now, and I love that idea. That's exactly what I want my foreseeable future to look like. But the lighting designer? He's forty now. He has a beautiful wife and an absolutely heart-melting baby. He has a steady job. He teaches. He teaches kids like me the skills that they'll need in order to repeat the cycle that he already lived.

He and I have both felt this. And what's more: he and I probably could have been friends.

What if there are countless friends out there for you--they were just your "friend soul mate" at a different time in their life? Finding them would be like knowing an older you; they can give you advice and teach you things that twenty-years-from-now-you would love to throw at you.

This kind of thinking makes me feel more in tune with the people around me, regardless of age. Young'uns such as myself tend to think, "Oh look, they're older than me, they must be lame and washed-up." Not so, kiddo. That older person might have been your best friend, had you aged on the same plane.

Spend your time looking for the potential in people. That never goes away, regardless of their age.