On the Compulsory Quality of Performance and the Performative Quality of Life

I went to drama camp from the ages of 7-12. I did not know it was drama camp. We put on little performances, skits, music numbers. We would spend 3 weeks preparing, and at the end we would perform for the parents and family members.

Performance has a peculiar quality of compulsion to it. Once you begin giving your monologue, begin your speech or speaking your lines, you cannot stop except at the cost of some violence. Imagine an actor in the middle of a play. They break character, "I can't do this." They walk off stage. The room freezes. No one on the stage knows what to do.

'The show must go on.'

But when the show doesn't go on, we feel it, this interruption, this disruption.

The machine grinds to a halt. It would have been smoother for the show to go on.

Our entire lives have this quality. We step into our characters, slowly, gradually, over the course of our lives. Major shifts in character come at a price.

Imagine a person dropping their role in the middle of a barista shift. There is a line to the door. It is hot, they are tired. "I can't do this anymore." They walk out. I once saw a coworker have a panic attack in the middle of a giant line. They took a minute.

What is this compulsory quality that overtakes our lives? What is this character that we can't stop acting out?

'The show must go on.'

But this isn't a show. This is my life.

That this is my life doesn't change the facts:

'The show must go on.'