"I was a ballet dancer and that kind of bled into musical theater. I was constantly in rehearsal for one thing or another"

A life that begins in ballet often teaches a language of precision, discipline, and musicality that naturally finds new dialects. The phrase “bled into” suggests an organic seepage rather than a strategic pivot, skills, habits, and instincts cultivated at the barre flowing into a broader, more narrative form of performance. Ballet conditions the body to tell stories through line, timing, and intention; musical theater asks for the same, then adds voice and text. The bridge is not abrupt; it’s a continuum of storytelling where movement remains the spine.

Being “constantly in rehearsal” paints a portrait of immersion. It hints at an adolescence or early career defined less by leisure than by call times and choreography, the iterative grind where craft is forged. Rehearsal is not just practice; it’s a social world and a value system, showing up, taking notes, adapting, repeating until the work lives in the body. The casual “one thing or another” underscores breadth and adaptability: ballet classes blending into ensemble numbers, character work, and scene study. It’s a snapshot of endurance and curiosity, a willingness to say yes to the next room, the next role, the next set of counts.

There’s humility in emphasizing process over performance. Rather than claiming a destination, the words center the unglamorous hours that make the stage (and later, the screen) possible. That rhythm of rehearsal cultivates stamina, focus, and responsiveness, transferable skills that serve any actor: hitting a mark, honoring rhythm, listening, reacting, and adjusting in real time.

The image that emerges is of an artist formed by repetition and collaboration, whose identity is shaped less by spotlight moments than by the daily practice behind them. It affirms the fluidity of creative pathways and the cumulative nature of artistry: each rehearsal compounding into a broader capacity to tell stories across forms.