Student Blogger: Jed Stahlback

Lately, I've been thinking about stories. Not just the ones with scripts, stage lights, and blocked scenes, but also the quiet ones. The ones that were written at 1:00 am. The ones that were formed in classrooms and put away never to be seen again.

February is always a weird month. The excitement of a new year fades, and suddenly it feels like the days are just full of classes, rehearsals, and life getting in the way. Motivation can feel slippery, like you want to keep going, but everything feels heavier than it should. I’ve been thinking a lot about what keeps me moving, especially as a theatre artist.

When I first heard the term “academic integrity,” I’ll admit, I didn’t really think much of it. Rules, citations, and avoiding plagiarism…boring stuff. It sounded like a checklist, not something meaningful. But over time, I realized it’s really about honesty. Being honest with yourself, with your work, and with the people whose ideas or efforts you rely on. For me, academic integrity isn’t just about following rules; it’s about showing up fully and truthfully, even when it’s hard.

The beginning of a new year always feels symbolic in theatre. It is that moment after the blackout, when the stage is quiet, and anything feels possible. January invites reflection. It asks us to look honestly at where we are and imagine where we want to go next.

I’m burned out right now. Not the kind that comes with some big dramatic moment, just the quiet, heavy exhaustion that sits in your chest and makes everything feel harder than it should.

Every cast I’ve been a part of has had its own version of these rituals. Sometimes it’s a group warm-up that turns into chaos. Sometimes it’s a pep talk that starts serious and somehow ends in tears from laughing too hard. Sometimes it’s just the quiet moment right before places are called, when the whole dressing room shifts and everyone suddenly realizes, oh wow, this is actually happening.

The great American composer and lyricist Stephen Sondheim once said, “Art, in itself, is an attempt to bring order out of chaos.” Looking back at where I was last year, my life feels vastly different.

This semester has been a lot. Between classes during the day, rehearsals at night, homework squeezed in anywhere it fits, and simply trying to remember that sleep and food are, in fact, non-negotiable human requirements!

There’s something sacred about theatre, about being in a room with people who are all trying to tell a story together. You start as castmates, and somehow you become this little family. You share late nights, inside jokes, emotional breakdowns, caffeine addictions, all for the sake of creating something that’s gone the moment the lights fade. And maybe that’s the point. Theatre is fleeting. Life is fleeting. And that’s what makes it beautiful.

Everything feels new; new people, new routines, new classrooms, new food places (I'm still loyal to Taco Bell though). I'm double majoring in Communication Arts and Literature Education, a fancy name for English Ed, and Theatre Arts.