DISCLAIMER: I think Kelsey wanted to make sure that the only person with an obliterated reputation is myself. So I got my own blog account. Just pretend it’s still anonymous.

I haven’t heard this many animal sounds since Discovery Channel aired a program about mating calls last summer. All I ask as an intern is enough time of doing nothing to sit on my computer and google-image search random words  (JAW 2009 made the second page, following images of the facial bone, the Spielberg film and the character from James Bond). But my adolescent procrastination is always starkly interrupted by the emotional outbursts of a teenage chimpanzee… or the lustful outcries of a presumptuous red tailed hawk. I don’t know whether to call a poacher, or start a petting zoo… although there’s probably enough petting going on in these rehearsals as it is.

Unable to concentrate on my slacking, I thought it only fitting to take advantage of the wilderness I find myself in and observe an elusive and mystical creature in its natural habitat: the actor. Please adopt some sort of David Attenborough-like British accent to the next paragraph.

It’s a varying species, not strictly defined to one archetype or confined to one behaviorism. Rather, it is a fluid beast, constantly changing and manipulating to its surroundings to fit a given circumstance. At times it lies docile (which I selectively choose to coincide with a caffeine famine), and other times it overflows with hyperactive anecdotes about plays of years passed. The primary diet of an actor includes candy, cigarettes and, as I’ve intriguingly discovered, barbeque sauce. I found myself enshrouded within their den as they discussed the condiment in their native tongue: a series of wide movements, loud noises and a demonstration of vividly precise charades. But they trust each other, they depend on one another, and I dare say there isn’t any other profession– er, breed– that is more accepting, communicative and collaborative than pride of wild actors.

However, there is much more time and effort, as well as many more species, that go into the creation of a theatrical delicacy. Please excuse the following speech that has been orated at every graduation since Plato founded the Academy:

The stage managers and designers comprise of the bones, the structure. Without a skeleton, everything falls apart.
The actors are the meat (and barbeque sauce, apparently). A raw slab natural flesh, ready to be altered and prepared where needed.
The director is the grill, cooking the meal in a slow turning rotisserie-style until it’s perfectly finished and golden brown.
The marketers, analysts, administrators, and crews are various spices and marinades, providing just as much flavor as the show needs.
I am the lone shred of frivolous parsley sitting on top: really good on the eyes, but at the end of the day… doesn’t add anything to the meal.

I know all of that food metaphor was really cheesy, but I can assure you it’s the bread and butter of this establishment.

It’s slightly disturbing for me to end my blog today having been influenced by animals and, subsequently, food… but please don’t feel there’s any sort of correlation between JAW this year and cannibalism or slaughter. That’s only Broadway. And by this weekend, I’m sure most of us will be alive enough to illustrate to you just how [un]civilized we truly are. You just may want to bring a harpoon, though… there’s bound to be some real trophy winning performances.

Still telling you more than you ever wanted to know,

-Anonymous Intern

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