I'm not saying last weekend's audition experience was by any means the best-case scenario, but it was definitely good for a lot of reasons.
First, I was reminded of what it's like to audition for a play. I felt the nerves and shivers that comes from anxiously waiting (in a frigid theater) for that one shot to show the directors that (1) you know the material, (2) you know how to deliver the material, and (3) you can deliver their material. I remembered what it feels like to utter lines to yourself over and over again until you either forget them because the words have lost all meaning or you know them so well that they become second nature. With the end of one sentence automatically comes the beginning of the next. Thankfully for me, I experienced the latter during the actual audition, although I had my fair share of forgetfulness in the hours immediately preceding the moment I took the stage. I delivered both my monologues flawlessly, and I felt great about my performance.
Second, I was reminded that I need to teach myself how to read music. I've dabbled in musical instruments, took piano lessons, and played the clarinet for three years, but all of those skills are long gone now, and I couldn't read a piece of music if my life depended on it. I've always been able to get by just by listening. I know I can't keep doing that, especially in an audition. I immediately tensed up as I heard the opening notes to my music selection, and, well, let's just say I'm glad Simon Cowell wasn't judging my singing ability at that moment. I probably would never have opened my mouth again if he had. Bottom line, though, it took guts for me to take the stage and sing my little 45-second ditty. I have guts.
Third, I was reminded how much I love to dance. I was a dancer in high school, but never had much in the way of formal training beyond a couple of years while I was 5 or 6. I just decided my freshman year of high school that I didn't want to be a cheerleader anymore, so I'd dance instead. And that's what I did. For four years I only counted up to 8, wore glittery costumes and bright red lipstick, and taught myself any of the technical elements I needed. It's been five years since I've laced up my dance shoes, and I don't own any proper apparel for "real" dance anymore. I was optimistic, though, and decided just to wing it.
The second I walked into the dance audition, I felt completely inadequate. All the girls had dance shoes. All of them. What did I have? $10 tennis shoes from Old Navy. Most of them had leotards. What did I have? Some spandex I bought in England and an old sorority T-shirt. All of their lips were coated in red lipstick. What did I have? Clear cinnamint lipgloss. So my first instinct is, "Shit. I'm screwed." I walked into the bathroom to change and decided to wear the spandex but to keep my shirt on that I wore to the first auditions earlier in the day. It passed as something someone would wear to dance in, and looked a lot better than a T-shirt. Then, by the grace of God, I found my only tube of obnoxious red lipgloss in my purse. Crisis #2 averted. But I still had an issue with my shoes. I walked into the audition room and began stretching, still wearing my tennis shoes. I scoped out the room, praying that someone would be wearing something other than ballet shoes or character shoes - to no avail. But I did see some girls with no shoes at all (Granted, all of these girls put on shoes later, but that's beside the point.). I thought to myself, "I can either wear these ridiculous shoes and be self-conscious the whole time I dance, or I can take them off and take this thing on barefoot." I went for the second option, kicked of the tennies, and began learning the dance combination. This leads me to the fourth thing I learned last weekend. I still got it.
It became evident that even though I haven't danced in years and I didn't have the shoes I should have, I can still break it down on the dance floor (or at least learn movements that correspond with 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8). When it was my turn to perform, I showed them my absolute best, and I know that I did well. The feeling I had as I walked off the dance floor was the best feeling I've had in years. It gave me the chills.
At the end of the night, call-backs were posted, and I had to endure the anxiety of searching for my name on the list of the chosen few. I searched. And searched. And searched one more time - praying I'd overlooked it. I hadn't. It wasn't there to find. I walked away with my shoulders slumped, my enthusiasm gone, and my eyes filled to the brink with tears. I don't like to cry when things don't go my way. I don't like to wallow in self-pity. But that night, after my name was nowhere to be found, I cried. And I cried. And I cried. I cried because I was disappointed in myself. I cried because I could have done better, could have tired harder, could have done something different. But then I cried for a completely different reason altogether. I cried because I had just had the best day in years, and the day was over. There weren't going to be more days like that in my immediate future. No rehearsals, no lines to learn, no dances to perform, no curtain calls... Instead? Casebooks, briefs, motions for summary judgment, the Lawbrary. I cried because I finally, finally had a chance to surround myself with what I really love, and I lost it. I cried because I had to go back to something I'm not interested in, something I'm not passionate about. I cried because the feelings I felt that day aren't going to come back anytime soon.
This is beginning to sound like it would be the worst-case scenario. But it's really not, I promise. My weekend shed some light - a lot of light - on my life and what I want to do with it. I'm going to keep reading these cases, keep pretending to be interested, keep doing the work, but I'm also going to keep auditioning, keep singing, keep dancing, keep holding onto that feeling I had last weekend - and to the dream I've had all my life.
Maybe it's not that I'm aimless, per se. I have a destination. Now I just need a map.
Third, I was reminded how much I love to dance. I was a dancer in high school, but never had much in the way of formal training beyond a couple of years while I was 5 or 6. I just decided my freshman year of high school that I didn't want to be a cheerleader anymore, so I'd dance instead. And that's what I did. For four years I only counted up to 8, wore glittery costumes and bright red lipstick, and taught myself any of the technical elements I needed. It's been five years since I've laced up my dance shoes, and I don't own any proper apparel for "real" dance anymore. I was optimistic, though, and decided just to wing it.
The second I walked into the dance audition, I felt completely inadequate. All the girls had dance shoes. All of them. What did I have? $10 tennis shoes from Old Navy. Most of them had leotards. What did I have? Some spandex I bought in England and an old sorority T-shirt. All of their lips were coated in red lipstick. What did I have? Clear cinnamint lipgloss. So my first instinct is, "Shit. I'm screwed." I walked into the bathroom to change and decided to wear the spandex but to keep my shirt on that I wore to the first auditions earlier in the day. It passed as something someone would wear to dance in, and looked a lot better than a T-shirt. Then, by the grace of God, I found my only tube of obnoxious red lipgloss in my purse. Crisis #2 averted. But I still had an issue with my shoes. I walked into the audition room and began stretching, still wearing my tennis shoes. I scoped out the room, praying that someone would be wearing something other than ballet shoes or character shoes - to no avail. But I did see some girls with no shoes at all (Granted, all of these girls put on shoes later, but that's beside the point.). I thought to myself, "I can either wear these ridiculous shoes and be self-conscious the whole time I dance, or I can take them off and take this thing on barefoot." I went for the second option, kicked of the tennies, and began learning the dance combination. This leads me to the fourth thing I learned last weekend. I still got it.
It became evident that even though I haven't danced in years and I didn't have the shoes I should have, I can still break it down on the dance floor (or at least learn movements that correspond with 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8). When it was my turn to perform, I showed them my absolute best, and I know that I did well. The feeling I had as I walked off the dance floor was the best feeling I've had in years. It gave me the chills.
At the end of the night, call-backs were posted, and I had to endure the anxiety of searching for my name on the list of the chosen few. I searched. And searched. And searched one more time - praying I'd overlooked it. I hadn't. It wasn't there to find. I walked away with my shoulders slumped, my enthusiasm gone, and my eyes filled to the brink with tears. I don't like to cry when things don't go my way. I don't like to wallow in self-pity. But that night, after my name was nowhere to be found, I cried. And I cried. And I cried. I cried because I was disappointed in myself. I cried because I could have done better, could have tired harder, could have done something different. But then I cried for a completely different reason altogether. I cried because I had just had the best day in years, and the day was over. There weren't going to be more days like that in my immediate future. No rehearsals, no lines to learn, no dances to perform, no curtain calls... Instead? Casebooks, briefs, motions for summary judgment, the Lawbrary. I cried because I finally, finally had a chance to surround myself with what I really love, and I lost it. I cried because I had to go back to something I'm not interested in, something I'm not passionate about. I cried because the feelings I felt that day aren't going to come back anytime soon.
This is beginning to sound like it would be the worst-case scenario. But it's really not, I promise. My weekend shed some light - a lot of light - on my life and what I want to do with it. I'm going to keep reading these cases, keep pretending to be interested, keep doing the work, but I'm also going to keep auditioning, keep singing, keep dancing, keep holding onto that feeling I had last weekend - and to the dream I've had all my life.
Maybe it's not that I'm aimless, per se. I have a destination. Now I just need a map.
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