Remember the monologue from way back when?
Recently I saw a flier calling for monologues relating to diversity to be performed (anonymously) for a production similar to Duke's Me Too Monologues. I remembered my old one, so I dug it up and sent it in. I was notified it was to be accepted, and invited to perform it as well if I was interested. After thinking about it, I realized that the monologue depicted me at a different stage in my life than I am currently in, and decided it would therefore be inappropriate for me to perform it.
The organization contacted me again, saying that the actor would like to meet with me (if I was comfortable with that) to really be able to capture the spirit of the writing and the disorder. You know me, I'm not one for anonymity with my Tourette's so naturally I agreed. Unfortunately, we weren't able to schedule a time before the show, but maybe it was better that way.
I had to arrive to the show late, so when I walked in I wasn't sure if mine had been performed yet or not. I watched several very emotional monologues before the last monologue started with familiar words: "I have Tourette Syndrome..."
It was an incredible experience to hear words that I had written so long ago be performed. It was very literally like stepping into a time machine and taking a look at myself in the past. It was a reminder of some of my darker struggles, a contrast to my present emotions - a ride I was not expecting when I first submitted the monologue.
The actor, Philip Delvecchio, did a great job both with interpretation and faking tics. I noticed a few differences in how the he portrayed the story versus how I had originally intended it - not big things, and certainly not wrong things. My first thought was to wish that our schedules had worked out so we could have discussed it before the show, but in reflection I'm glad that we didn't. This was a work of art - specifically a dramatic monologue - that I had written in my past, something that should not be retroactively touched by my present. It was his job as an actor to decide how to best tell that story, a task he did marvelously.
After the show, I shook his hand and gave him a hug. It was all I could do.