No. 7

So the tour’s done. I’m home.

It was good. Eye-opening, like I said before. New challenges, new obstacles, but also new moments of connection. I worked with kind people. People who helped, people who listened, people who paid attention. And one of them said something to me that I have not been able to stop thinking about. A technician pulled me aside and said, you have a talent for making people who do not really care about the product start to care.

It caught me off guard. But it also meant a lot.

For my final dissertation at university, I studied emotional intelligence. Not just in theory, but how it might play out in real life. How I could use it to communicate across departments, across disciplines. How I could keep my softness without letting it be mistaken for weakness. I was not trying to change anybody’s mind. I just wanted people to understand why the work matters to me. And maybe in that understanding, they would begin to treat it with care too. Not because they suddenly saw it the same way I did, but because they respected why I cared.

That compliment felt like something had landed. Like a small part of that hope was visible.

But not everything went smoothly. The last show of the tour didn’t go well. There was a system crash at the start of the second act and the video didn’t play. It was out of my hands, completely. A computer error. But still, I felt responsible. That is something I am learning now. In this job, even when something goes wrong that I could not possibly prevent, I carry it. I become the face of the problem once the curtain falls.

And because I care about the production so deeply, I want it all to run perfectly. For the audience, for the team, for the piece itself. So when it doesn’t, it sits with me longer than it probably should. I am figuring out how to leave those things at the door. How to reflect without spiralling. How to prepare better for next time without falling into the trap of blame.

There is no handbook for that part. But I am learning. I am learning how to lead and how to care without burning myself out. How to be accountable without making everything my fault.

I was raised around people who did not naturally connect with art. Men who did not quite get it. Women who maybe did not get it either but tried to. Because they wanted to get me. That effort mattered. It still does. I think about it a lot. And I think maybe that is what I am trying to pass on now. That kind of effort. That kind of reach.

To me, it is not really about liking or not liking the work. It is about recognising that someone cared enough to shape it. And maybe choosing to meet that care halfway. That is where connection lives.

What is No Snow in May right now? I am not quite sure. But I still want to show up for it. Even slowly. Even while my days are full.

Thanks for stepping in.

Song of the week:

Reminiscencias

by Claudio Constantini