Directors Note F&J 2025

I’m not really sure what I’m doing. I’m never really sure what to write here. So I’ll

write about school.

The two most important things I have learned in my five years at this school are

how to be intentional, and how to be vulnerable. I love vulnerability. I’m addicted

to it.

But it’s so much harder. To be vulnerable in front of people, to push ourselves into

the scariest situation, to say the scariest thing.

Ask me what I really think. Find me and ask me: “Ron, what is the scariest thing

for you to say in this moment? What is locked so deep inside your mind that

when you graze its cell your body goes into a panic only recognizable as the end

of life itself?” I promise if I muster the strength to tell you, I will be renewed. I will

be freed. I will be happier. The truth is to tell you is to tell myself. Give me this

gift, and then give it to yourself.

As with any good play, the victory of opening up to myself creates a new problem.

Feelings.

I am trained to have feelings. To allow feelings, and yet our processes don’t

reflect that. They don’t seem to want that. My feelings are gold on a canvas or

in lyrics, but a sin in conversation. Somewhere along the way being professional

turned into being emotionless. I don’t like that. Resentment doesn’t breed great

art. I want to be vulnerable.

We are all so scared. I am so scared. I am scared of not being liked. I am scared of

looking dumb. I am scared of not being important enough. That’s probably why I

convince people to spend so much money on my ideas. Maybe once the budget

to stage my thoughts reads a billion dollars I will be convinced that they are

worthy. I totally doubt it.

This is the most beautiful text ever written. It is a gift to have read it when I did,

and to work on it now.

Truly my only request is that you give in to the experience. Allow yourself to be

vulnerable, it’s better. I promise I won’t judge you and I hope you won’t judge

yourself. You get to enjoy if you decide you want to. Be open