One Month Later...

Welp… I abandoned the “Long Way Round” idea faster than when I came up with it…

I do have an explanation as to why, and it also relates to why I’ve waited to write this post a full month after the tour had closed.

I’m very grateful for the experiences that this tour has given me. I got to see places in the UK that I would have never gone out of my way to visit, and it’s led me to some hidden gems; lovely cities that I’m already planning to take my wife to. I met some great people in each city and in the touring company – many of whom I will consider friends for life. The pinch-me moments that I have gathered on this contract will always be something that I will carry with me: the fact that I got to sing the luscious score of Miss Saigon eight times a week, having my final audition with Cameron Mackintosh himself in the room and giving me notes, singing in the sitzprobe in front of Cameron Mackintosh and Claude-Michel Schonberg, then meeting Alain Boublil after the first preview in Newcastle, the artistic fulfilment I got from creating my own version of Thuy.

Rehearsing, promoting, and performing in the show was fantastic. It was a dream come true.

The moments in between? Not so much.

Living out of a suitcase is not as glamorous as one might think. The brutal schedule and the weekly touring didn’t really help the situation either. It felt like every week we were in a new city. So, it meant a new environment. A new bed. A new routine.

For the most part, I managed. I kept myself busy with personal projects, video games, and books. I got myself outside, exploring the cities we were in, and occasionally treating myself to a new book or some new clothes. I exercised, and visited cafes, amusement parks, and aquariums with members of the company. There were lots of joyous times.

Unfortunately, there were lots of not-so-joyous times as well. And those hit harder than I thought they would.

Inevitably, when you travel with the people you work with, and that touring bubble starts to feel like it’s closing in, tensions can run high. And when you’re out on the road, it’s very hard to unwind in the evenings when you’ve had a bad day. For one, you’re sleeping in an unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar bed – most likely staying with unfamiliar people. I’ve been lucky in that there hasn’t been a place that I can think of where my digs or hosts were less-than-stellar. In fact, there has been more than one occasion in which I’d have the most wonderful conversations with my hosts. I also had my fellow company members with whom I can confide with (when they had the capacity of course – I wasn’t just going to dump all of my bad mood onto them without seeing if they were okay with it first.) But some days were harder than others, and I simply didn’t know how to deal with them without my support system back home in London.

Things got tougher near the end. Perhaps it was the combination of all the touring wearing me down and the uncertainty of what will come next, but I was a ball of anxiety and depression. It got to a point where I was actually counting down the days until the end of the contract – which was something I had never experienced before, even on some of the worst shows I’ve been on. Was it the length of the contract? It’s certainly the longest one I’d ever done. Was it the fact I missed home? Absolutely. The funniest bit about this was that then I would begin to spiral about the fact that I was counting down until the end of the contract – which only sent me further down the anxiety rabbit hole.

Was I becoming jaded?
Is this the contract that finally makes me into the very thing that I swore that I’d never become?

But then… as it always does, the end of the contract comes, and the sentimentality and gratitude wash away all of that.

I was surprised at how hard I cried when we took our final bow. Taking off the uniform and hanging it up for the last time filled me with a sadness that I didn’t expect to feel. Saying goodbye to a role has always been a sentimental but easy moment for me – and Thuy was definitely no different. After playing him for a good 10 months, singing the same songs and saying the same lines over and over and over again, I was ready to say goodbye. But also… by that same token, it’s the most time I spent with a character in my career. And I felt like I was still finding new things about him. I’m grateful that I was able to still find a bit of nuance in him, despite having had moments where I felt like I was going on autopilot after performance #302. Saying goodbye this time almost felt like the time I left America to live in London. Maybe not as significant as that, but close. It was the longest contract I’ve ever done, and I was getting used to the routine.

This is not to mention the people that are now in my life. People who I’ve spent almost a year with, and have mutually decided that the friendship wasn’t going to end with the contract. These friendships have enriched me, and got me through the worst days of being on the road. I can only be grateful and hope that I also provided the same enrichment for them.

I’m grateful for the job, and all that it has given me. I just wish that the circumstances surrounding it all were different.

Which brings me to why I haven’t written on here for the better part of a month.
Simply put: I was busy and depressed.

The day after our last performance in Manchester, I took a train to Edinburgh to spend a week enjoying the Fringe Festival with my wife, who was already up there having directed three shows. It was a full circle moment: the year prior, I was at the Fringe Festival – I had just finished my last week at my day job, and was about to begin rehearsals for Saigon – and now I was back, having just finished Saigon.

I’ll probably make a separate post about my time at the Fringe, but long story short: it was the best time. Then I returned home and hit the ground running. I started applying for day jobs, made plans with friends, went to Brighton, sang at a charity concert, learned audition sides and attended said auditions. All the while learning a 70-minute show that my theatre company Halfpace was remounting in early September.

I. Was. Busy.

In the moments between all of this, I found myself in a depressive slump.

Ending a contract always had me feeling the post show blues – but this was different. Really, it all chalks up to the fact that I had almost a solid year of employment, the longest acting job I’ve ever done. Ten months of routine, done. Don't get me wrong: I loved being back home and having my wife and cat within arm’s reach. I loved being back in London. But it was strange waking up on a Tuesday and not having to think about the fact that I had to be in the theatre by 2pm for soundcheck/tech. And this is the first time that I’ve come out of an acting job and not have a day job to come back to. It was almost a shock to the system.

I love my routines, and when a routine is broken, I get incredibly irritated. Over the years I’ve learned to manage it – but coming back from tour, I definitely felt quite moody. I found myself getting back into old habits, and then I’d send myself down a spiral for doing so.

It was very strange.

But I’m here now. Things have quieted down, balance has been restored, and I’m ready to give this blog a little bit more attention.

If you’re still here, and have not decided to unsubscribe from this blog, thank you for sticking it out. I know this wasn't exactly the cheeriest read - but too often do we as actors glaze over the fact that it does get hard sometimes, even if we are blessed with a job. This is just the reality: we are very lucky that we get to do what we do - and sometimes some aspects of the job suck. So you gotta find the little pockets of joy that you can.

I’m curious, let me know what you want to see from this blog. What kinds of insights do you want to read about? At the moment, I just write if something is on my mind and I want to call attention to it. But I want to know what is it that made you subscribe in the first place.

Thanks for being here.

P.S. I recently started Severance. It’s gooooooood.