Diary of a Hermit Crab

June 1, 2000

Dear Diary,

Mom gave me this journal so I could write down all my memories of my first year of overnight summer camp. I forgot about it until now. I wish I had something better to tell you. We discovered my cabin has a mouse in it (not a fun experience). The bugs here think I’m a Thanksgiving feast (these bites really itch). But worse of all, we did skits in a bag. Basically the staff puts things in a bag and you have to make up a skit using everything in the bag. This is to be acted at campfire time.

I told the Counselor Katie I wanted a small part and she gave me one. All I had to do was come in and say that I found the lost bandana. We practiced in the cabin. I did good. Then came time to do our skit. I got onto the platform and realized that every single camper and counselor was staring at me. I opened my mouth to say my line and the next thing I remember is waking up in the nurse’s station. I fainted in front of everyone. I am so embarrassed.

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March 30, 2001

Dear Diary,

Today I had to give a speech in front of my whole history class. Why must middle school students be tortured like this? Do teachers understand that some of us are shy? (And I would be willing to run the mile barefoot, over hot coals and sharp pointy rocks if it got me out of giving presentations. I hate running, but public speaking is so much worse.)

This has to break my eighth amendment rights to not be given cruel and unusual punishments. (Mr. Lewis handed back our amendments quiz today. I got an A-. Don’t tell mom, she was right. I had no reason to be worried.)

Also, Claire was going on and on at lunch today about the new art supplies her parents gave her. I wish she would shut up about them and make her lousy art instead (don’t tell her I said that). So it was a very dull lunch right before I had to give my speech. I miss the days when recess followed lunch.

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September 15, 2002

Dear Diary,

I think I’m settling into high school okay. I no longer get lost (well at least most of the time). The amount of homework isn’t as bad as I feared, except in English where Mrs. Patterson makes us write a five paragraph essay every single week (coincidentally I can’t wait to take Creative Writing I next semester).

Luckily my friends seem to be sticking together. But I can help but think that Ashley would rather spend time with her friends on the tennis team and that Claire seems to have found some new artsy friends. I’m afraid they won’t want to keep hanging out with their dweeby friend from middle school when they could be popular. What am I going to do if they leave me? I don’t have any other friends.

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August 31, 2004

Dear Diary,

I’ve started applying for college and realized that “trying to stay invisible” and “writing a fiction novel” do not count as extracurricular activities. Unfortunately they’re the only ones I’ve got. My grades will be able to get me in, but everyone says that it's better to have extracurriculars on your application. Dad knows this and tries (but in typical dad fashion fails) to be subtle when he tells me to audition for the fall musical (how he knows this is coming up is beyond me).

The writer in me actually finds the idea of portraying someone else intriguing (and a practical way to better create characters). What bothers me is that performing means doing this in front of an audience. I have a terrible track record and just writing that down brings summer camp flashbacks I didn’t want to have tonight.

So I told dad it wasn’t going to happen. Then I asked him why he thought auditioning was a good idea. He told me because I was a good singer. I only do that in the shower (I know, it's totally cliche, don’t judge me diary). I asked for the real reason. He admits he thinks it will help me “grow as a person” and “come out of my shell.”

No way. Not going to happen. Some people are destined to live their lives as hermit crabs, and I am one of them.

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April 18, 2007

Dear Diary,

Freshman year of college has been crazy. I’ve been so busy between homework (I am never doing 18 credit hours in one semester again) and running lights for the spring play that I’ve hardly written any entries. I don’t know if I told you or not but the drama club convinced me to be a techie. It’s actually a nice gig. I am in a room by myself, follow the script and flip the switches on the board at the right time.

It’s tech week and I’m watching rehearsal from the light booth and the strangest thought occurs to me. I wish that I was capable of being up on stage. But I’m still a hermit crab and the light booth has become my new shell.

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November 1, 2009

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I want to hug Tracy. Sometimes I want to strangle her. I only auditioned for the university’s production of Much Ado About Nothing to get Tracy to stop nagging me about it. I’ll admit (but deny that I did) that auditions weren’t too bad.It was just me, a scene partner and the director in the room (and she is so skinny I could pretend she wasn’t there).

The desire to strangle Tracy comes from the fact that I got cast. Yeah, I was flabbergasted too. It’s only a small part (Ursula, I think she’s a servant to someone). But it also means that I will have to say lines, in front of audiences, during the five performance run of the show. Yikes!

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February 10, 2010

Dear Diary,

I didn’t faint and I didn’t forget my lines during opening night. However my heart was beating faster than hummingbird wings every moment I was visible to the audience. I don’t know what else to say right now. Post-show high (completely natural, I assure you) has me so wired, I don’t know what else to write.

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May 18, 2017

Dear Diary,

I just found out I didn’t get cast in the latest community theater show (again). I thought I read really well this time, but I guess it wasn’t well enough. Being a late bloomer in theater stinks. I feel like I will never be able to catch up with the other actresses my age. They will always get the parts and I’ll always be in the audience or the tech booth I suppose.

I’m not giving up trying yet, but I’m just sad. I just realized how ironic it is, me feeling this way. A few years ago I was disappointed that I got cast. Now I’m disappointed that I wasn’t cast. Ain’t it funny (in a borderline tragic way)?

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April 5, 2020

Dear Diary,

The world is going crazy with all the uncertainties of this disease. I’m stuck at home because the show I'm in got postponed indefinitely. My kids are excited school ended early, but are now bored out of their minds. Seems like the perfect time to make a crazy decision, right?

So I’ve decided to become a playwright.

I know it sounds crazy (but I already said that). Perhaps it is. But it’s the only way to combine my two loves: theater and writing. I can hardly sit still with this idea in my head. I’m going to write it.

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December 4, 2026

Dear Diary,

Life is good. I’m quitting my day job (an early Christmas present for myself). I know I’ve said that for years, but my husband and I went over the numbers. We can make it work. In two weeks I will be a full-time playwright (and a part-time community theater actress, now that I am getting cast semi-regularly).

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October 12, 2031

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe I’m saying this. After years of work developing and promoting my plays, I have the most amazing news. Days of the Hermit Crab will be produced at an Off-Broadway theater (so it’s actually the second most amazing news I could get). If the run goes well, then it could transfer to Broadway. I am so close that I can smell my dreams coming true (either that or my husband is making his famous tortilla soup in the kitchen again).

On a related note, I just got cast as the lead role in a play. My son will also be in it (his first community theater show, I am such a proud mom right now).

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February 17, 2065

Dear Diary,

Lately I’ve been looking back at my life and wondering what my younger self would think if I could travel back in time and tell her who she becomes and all that she accomplishes.

I bet she would laugh. (Or think she’s being pranked, blame my older brothers on that one.)

I have the image in my head. I see myself approaching the timid girl I used to be. The girl who avoided eye contact with others whenever possible. The girl who socialized as infrequently as possible. The girl who probably spent too much time  as a hermit crab.

I look at her and notice how much I have changed—and recognize how much I haven’t.

The funny part of this imagination is that I approach the girl I used to be, but I can’t bring myself to tell her about the future. It isn’t that she won’t believe me (though she won’t). It’s just that I don’t want to ruin the surprise. I want her to have the amazing (and even the heartbreaking) experiences I had.

So I let her go to hang out at the mall with Ashley and Claire while I come back to reality. And I find that I am exactly who and where I am supposed to be.