The Little Prince & Me

About this time last year, I and a couple of friends were thick in the middle of rehearsals for a play designed to alter our lives – The Little Prince. I distinctly remember it took us about four months to plan and execute the production. We had no money, but we made up through sheer guts. What we lacked in professional experience, we countered with a driving passion and love for the theater arts and the book.

Being the play’s creative director is perhaps the most glamorous title I’ve held in my career. It was to be my professional stage debut. And yes, ambitious that I am, I saw it as a remarkable steppingstone towards bigger productions and greater fame.

Funny though, after that one tumultuous and exhilarating ride, I realize that just like magic wands and stardust, glamour is a myth. Any hint of it has long been lost to oblivion as one remembers the sweat, blood, and tears in making things happen. For me, The Little Prince was the ultimate test for patience, elasticity of a creative mind, courage of execution, and the bond of friendship.

Once Upon A Time

It all started over a lukewarm cup of coffee. One particular August night, Al and I were lamenting over life's quotidian not-so-merry-go-round. Honestly, don’t you ever get tired of it all- work, mall, eat, coffee, sleep, then back again? Surely, there’s got to be more to life than these.

And then over sips of coffee, we grumbled some more about how life’s little perks like plays and movies have become ridiculously expensive with little value. We discussed one particular production I had the seeming misfortune to watch. The coffee by then must have gone to our heads for we lost no time hotly debating on the best way we could have done it different.

A germ of an idea started hopping around – if we don’t like something, why not change it ourselves? Or better yet, why not create and produce something to satisfy us and jolt us out of this bout of whining? So what if we’ve got little connections and not much professional training? Everyone has got to start somewhere. We were already bored anyway, what have we got to lose? Well, probably just our reputation, time, a bit of money, a large chunk of sanity and what-else. Who cares?

To make it work, we needed a material close to our hearts. Al beat me to an answer: The Little Prince.

For something this big, we needed one more person to complete the circle. And when it comes to theater productions, I know of only one other lady who’s as bold, crazy and passionate about it as I am – M. We’ve worked our way together through minor workshops and countless school plays so I know when it comes to dreams and visions, she absolutely gets it. And I was right. Over a plate of veggie beef biryani and a pot of tea, she signed on.

We wanted the play to matter. We were serious enough about it that we submitted to the taxing process of registering the partnership with the Securities & Exchange Commission to give us-- the producers -- a valid name. We got approved. Artist Link Productions Co. was born.

Once Upon a Play

It was a crazy life. It wasn’t as easy as we thought it would be.

We visited about five institutions before we found one we could link up with and share our vision.

We auditioned about 50 kids to get a cast of 20.

We made seven revisions to the script before we settled with the final version.

I listened to about 20 CDs and 150 songs to pick out just 10 for the soundtrack.

We had about 35 rehearsals to prepare for just 3 shows.

We sent out about 40 sponsorship letters and they were rejected for one reason or another, except for two – Timezone and Grolier International. But sorry, they can only give in kind, not cash – which was what we really needed. Oh well, that was better than nothing.

We called, faxed, and delivered invitations to practically all the schools in the city. Only two accepted and showed up.

And what did we do to fill up 300 seats? Target to sell a thousand tickets.

We hounded friends to help with the logos, designs and printing. We called long ago acquaintances to help us promote in the papers and their orgs. One cold late night, we hiked from Gorordo Avenue to Mango Avenue, onto the CAP Center in Osmeña Boulevard to stick posters in various strategic spots.

As the play progressed along, Al developed an aversion to phones and companies, M lost our bag of newly printed tickets, and I – one fateful night – totally lost my cool and screamed at the kids. It was hell.

I remember it was as early as the last week of October when we almost reached breaking point. By then, a lot of people were already telling us, “Don’t worry, it’s normal for a first production to fold, anyway. Mamawi nalang mo sa next one ‘coz by then, naa namo’y experience.” Grrrr. We suspect even the foundation doubted we could pull it off. I guess we were just too “girly” for them to be real.

Al, M and I were beginning to dread our coffee sessions / meetings. What’s there to look forward to when people kept saying No and everything seemed to be in shambles? We stopped talking like normal friends. And whenever possible, we avoided each other like the plague for we knew it would only take a single wrong word or act to blow up. The pressure, people, and the play were grating on our nerves like the sound of a fingernail against glass that just won’t stop.

So we called for a break. For about two weeks, we suspended rehearsals, agreed not to make a single phone call, and not talk about any of it at all. It was heaven.

I guess it did us some good. It gave us time to think if each of us wanted to stop or go on. Eventually, all of us decided that we could take anything except falling on our faces when we’ve scarcely even started. If we don’t at least finish it, how else will we be able to launch another project in our lives? Yes, it was pride and our stubbornness in believing that the dream is still possible that carried us through. So we picked up the bat once more and decided to give the ball our best shot – win or lose.

Eventually, we got used to being insane. We learned to love the kids, tolerate their mind boggling moves for affection and approval, and deal with their tantrums and petty fights. We realized that in all this, they are the point, not us. To counter the stress, we decided to make every rehearsal fun, every creative effort a learning experience, and every meeting a food binge. We learned to just stick out our tongues at people who refused to help us instead of scream or pull each others’ glorious hair. And then, when we couldn’t afford it, we decided to challenge the fates, and rented a grand stage for the production instead of settling for a little amphitheater. When you decide to do something, might as well do it right and big and grand all the way, right? Otherwise, what’s the point?

And then I realized that to make this dream come true, I got to believe in the project myself. In an act of faith, I took the risk and invested what little savings I had to tide us over on things we just couldn’t beg or borrow. I figured somehow we’ll make it through. We were already at rock bottom. There was no other way to go but up.

One Happy Ending

Performance day was a blast. Any of the three shows we had was far from perfect, true. Some lines were missed, the sound equipment acted up, backstage witnessed one glitch after another and so on. But do you know that feeling when everybody simply decides to throw caution to the winds and do their best anyway come what may because after all, there’s no more tomorrow? Unity. Teamwork. Fun. We had it all.

And God, the joy in the children’s faces, that moment when you see them come out of their shell to share that talent you help shape, the awe in their faces after having their few minutes in the spotlight and realizing that dreams do come true -- it’s something I’ll never forget. It makes every tear, every heartache, each struggle, every sleepless night, everything -- all worthwhile.

And then, voila!, the people came. This despite the heavy rain. I even thought the room wouldn’t be enough. After everything, it was so unexpected.

What’s more, we broke even. No debts and the food was overflowing at the goodbye party. Wait, let me correct that – we profited actually. Let’s not forget the game tickets from Timezone and the wonderful books from Grolier International.

And then there were the invisible gifts beyond prize like friendship, love, passion, faith, and self-respect.

New Beginnings

It took me about a year to be able to write all of this down. I couldn’t help it. When you let go of something so beautiful – especially when you’ve given your heart and soul to it– well, it hurts for awhile.

But now I write all of this down, not really because I want to make you suffer too by reading a very long blog entry. Hehe. I’m writing this down because I don’t want to forget. I want to remember that at one point in my life I did it – I fought with my friends and won and made the dream happen. And to know, that if I just believe, it could happen again.

I think each of us needs at least one “Little Prince” experience in our lives. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a play, if you know what I mean. It could be a game won, a board exam passed, a business established, or even a love well-fought for. I think each and everyone should have that something to look back to and say, “Yeah, one time I risked it all and beat all the odds. It was crazy. It was hard, sure, but I survived. I could do it again.”

As for Artist Link, the fire stirs once more. After more than a year, we finally captured another out-of-this-world idea and are now planning for the next production. Nothing solid yet, but it’s enough to make us dream again. This time it’s going to be different, maybe not bigger, but if it pushes through we’ll be risking so much more than we ever did. The way things stand, odds of it happening are also slim. But hey, if it’s written on the stars just like the Little Prince was, who are we to argue, right?

Dreams, after all, do come true.

To Be or Not To Be

Ugh. I hate making decisions – especially the big ones. For more than two months now, I’ve managed to stay away from this arduous task but I guess, at some point, life always catches up with you.

To be or not be?

Even now, my stomach turns and my head pounds unmercifully as I try to answer this proverbial question. So I asked my beloved older and supposedly wiser sister if she’d agree to a deal – I’ll pay her P5,000 if she’d just make all my decisions for me for a month. Her answer? One ridiculous snort and an emphatic shake of the head. But then she comes back with, “Double that and I’ll agree.” This time, I snorted.

My crazy/beautiful sexy cousin Maya babes is also at a crossroad in her life. To find her own definite answer to the “To Be or Not to Be” question, she decided to grab her backpack and travel the many miles from Davao to Manila, Cabanatuan, then Cebu. Her phone call woke me up at 9 AM. She gleefully announced her plan of hounding cousin Fritz, her brother Louie, my aunt and I as well as the rest of the family to help her out in this process. Hehe. Great! Now I have somebody to play ping-pong-the-many-questions with.

But then, no matter how you analyze, discuss, dissect a question with somebody, no matter how many guidelines you give each other, ultimately the decision still rests upon you and you alone.

So now, I write instead in the hope that as I ramble on, I’ll find the key to an answer I should have made days ago.

Am I in or out?

I’ve got about 8 months to spare before I go back to school. So I figured I might as well look for a job. Three applications and a couple of interviews later, I got an offer. Wow, the job is exciting. I really like it. There’s travel, challenge, and exposure galore – three things I’ve always looked forward to.

“Can you handle long hours?” the interviewer asked. “Gladly, but I’d like to have my entire weekend off,” I shot back. Agreed. Cool.

And then, just as I was on the verge of giving my delightful YES!, she sneakily drops a four-figure bomb. Ouch! It’s just for a start, she hastily assures. Hey, that still hurts.

The mind starts whirling. Do I take it still? At this point in my life, the money doesn’t really matter that much. But-- is it wise to go back to a low-salary job after I’ve spent the past four years collecting sound experiences and building a solid reputation? Am I willing to settle for a shot of something different even though I know I’ve got a standing offer for a job with twice the salary?

I’ve long realized that there are no perfect jobs out there. So I guess it all boils down to what we can and can’t live with.

In this moment of introspection, I realize that I have a great capacity to sacrifice for something that I really want. But then I also have this nagging sense of justice which insists that a man should be given his due. Otherwise there won’t balance, and without it, there won’t be peace.

All this thinking is driving me nuts. Let me add to the stress and launch a different line of questioning:

What are my options? Is this job a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? What’s my priority right now? Have I truly finished this phase in my life to start a new one? Will I be a better person if I follow through?

Suddenly, I know.

Thank God.