A Lifetime of Musical Theater Obsession (and Diva Delusions)

Some kids grow up playing catch with their dad. I grew up watching The Sound of Music with my mom on the couch, probably wrapped in a blanket like some tiny, Broadway-obsessed burrito. Other kids had baseball practice—I had Julie Andrews showing me how to twirl on a mountaintop and question organized religion in song. And thus, a lifelong obsession was born.

Fast forward to high school, and let me tell you—I fully believed I was Broadway-bound after some self-discovery. I didn’t just love musicals. I embodied them. Every hallway was a catwalk, every classroom a cabaret. And I wasn’t just any musical theater kid—I was a diva. Think Patti LuPone meets a hormonal teenager with no sense of volume control. If there was an opportunity to belt out a show tune, I took it.

Someone casually mentions they’re going to New York? “OH, HAVE YOU HEARD OF THIS SMALL, UNKNOWN SHOW CALLED SWEENEY TODD? LET ME PERFORM THE ENTIRE SCORE FOR YOU RIGHT NOW.”

A teacher tries to tell me to calm down? “Excuse me, I am calm. This is just my natural resting Bernadette Peters energy.”

At one point, I truly believed I was destined for Broadway stardom. Spoiler alert: I did not, in fact, make it to Broadway. Life had other plans, which did not include eight shows a week and a Tony Award acceptance speech. But that never stopped the obsession.

Now, as a full-grown adult (debatable), I’ve simply transferred my musical theater addiction to cast recordings, Broadway gossip, and the black hole that is theater social media. I spend a concerning amount of time scrolling through TikToks about why Phantom of the Opera is actually a toxic relationship (duh) and why every reboot of Cats is just another step toward the apocalypse. I follow Broadway news the way normal people follow sports teams. And don’t even get me started on my passionate opinions about Wicked casting. (Yes, I saw Wicked the movie. Yes, I will be discussing it at length.)

Honestly, if Broadway had fantasy leagues the way football does, I’d be a millionaire.

And let’s not forget the fact that I named this blog The Bearded Blogcast. I mean, come on. That’s comedy and branding, folks. Someone slap it on a Playbill and call it a night.

So, yeah. I may not be belting out “Defying Gravity” on a Broadway stage, but I am still fully obsessed, still dramatically singing show tunes in the car, and still convinced that one day, somehow, I will befriend Patti LuPone. Until then, I’ll be here, consuming every bit of Broadway content possible and pretending I’m still the star of my own musical.

Cue the final bow.

Your Diva In Chirst- Wes