It was my senior year of high school, and I wanted nothing more than to be a serious actor. I had spent years contemplating the Stanislavsky System and the Meisner Approach. I was also in the midst of auditioning for BFA programs. Us actors study our craft with extreme dedication and discipline. But many times, the ways we put what we know into practice end up being pretty silly.

In the midst of all my seriousness about college and my future career, I was also playing Scuttle the Seagull in my school’s production of The Little Mermaid. As soon as the cast list had gone up, I was extremely excited for the chance to push myself. I had never had a comedic role before. However, it took a lot longer for me to fall in love with Scuttle than it did with other characters I’d played in the past. Instead of delivering emotional dialogue or belting power ballads, I spent rehearsal hours squawking, flapping my wings, and speaking nonsensical terms such as “stupelicious”, “snarfblatt”, and “dinglehopper”. Scuttle required me to abandon so much of what my acting training had been. To me, acting was the art of replicating human behavior as honestly and authentically as possible. And there I was, playing a talking seagull. This was definitely not what I would’ve hoped for my last high school role. I was used to being serious.

Onstage, I wanted to be pretty, pristine, and put-together. But I was playing a character who was goofy and obnoxious, and having a pretty hard time with it too.

But once the last few weeks of rehearsal came, everything finally started to click. I began to feel vulnerable yet confident like I had before. Because I couldn’t really relate the character to myself, I simply abandoned all sense of being myself. Through my imagination, I created the world of Scuttle, and stepped inside of it. Scuttle is about as confident as you can get. When referred to by Grimsby as “You filthy bird,” he squacks in his face and struts away. He also opens act two with a tap dance number about thinking positively and feeling confident in yourself no matter how you look on the outside. When I stepped offstage, I carried that confidence with me. Scuttle taught me that sometimes it’s okay to be obnoxious and a bit of a dork. I know I have talent and a kind heart, so I don’t need to appear perfect on the outside. I’m a bit of a mess, and I love myself for being that way. I’m so glad that I got to learn these lessons from doing what I love most. When you step into the shoes of a character so opposite of yourself, amazing things can happen.