Our mornings? Making different expressions in the mirror as we brush our teeth. Our commutes? The radio muted as we run our monologue. Our lunch breaks? A sandwich in one hand and our script in the other. Instead of watching Netflix safely nestled under a cat blanket, our evenings are laden with missed cues, worn shoes, dropped lines, deadlines, paint stains, foot pains, achy backs and panic attacks. Why?

Because we are actors.

We were bit by a bug. Last weekend, last year, sixty years ago; it doesn’t matter. We’ve been infected with an insatiable passion to ultimately make fools of ourselves in front of hundreds of people. And we don’t want to be cured.

We are craftsmen.

We are artists.

We are students of human behavior.

We are actors.

This is Stagebite. Let’s grab a drink, hone our craft, and spur each other on in our glorious infection.

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