One Step...

One step closer to this Saturday's opening, and I'm feeling better about the show all the time.  Funny, that -- that I should be worried about it.  It's something that never, ever goes away, I think, that worry that it's all going to be a big, steaming pile of cow crap.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the perils of believing your own press.

The people who've been seeing the rehearsals  -- mostly the tech people involved in designing the sets, lights, sound and the like --  have been really encouraging and kind in their praise, but there's a part of me that wonders if it really is as good as they'd like us to believe?  Is the show coming together the way we'd hoped or is this praise of the glad-handing, "my seat was comfortable" sort of praise that one offers when one has nothing good to really say?

And, I suspect much more importantly, why is this important to me?  Isn't the paranoid obsession of someone who wonders if praise is sincere only it's on form of narcissism, in the end?  Whether one is seeking others' praise, or worrying about the motivation for others' praise, it all adds up to the same thing:  Obsessive navel gazing.