The final push for graduation was a hard one. I'd had my foot and three toes out the door all semester, and by the time Hairspray auditions rolled around, I just wanted to be done. I moved forward almost blindly, spending precious little energy on concern for my grades, my legacy, or the logistics of the graduation ceremony. I just wanted to get through it and get on a big boat where I could leave it all behind. I got through it. I got on a big boat and left it all behind. I had an amazing week of exploration and indulgence the likes of which I'd never experienced. I got to stand still with the sense that I was moving forward, and I got to enjoy theatre and music and nature, so many things that I love so much and never feel like I had enough of. I saw Chicago and I was a Broadway patron. I sang karaoke and I was a star. I woke up to the sun every morning telling me that the day would contain whatever I wanted it to. But then I got off the boat, and everything I'd left behind was right here waiting for me.
I'm back in Tallahassee for another month until Hairspray is over. I'd allowed myself to forget on the boat that I still have a stupid freshman English class to get through before they actually send me my degree. In the Caribbean, I didn't feel this strange apprehension that I was behind everyone and needed to catch up. At sea, I didn't worry about my lack of self-sufficiency or my difficulty getting people to see me or my frustrations over not having enough control over my life. I wasn't freaked out about auditions. I wasn't mad at myself for not being good enough. I wasn't scared I would be "one of those people" I know I don't want to be. I was happy there. I don't know how to be happy here.
It literally feels like I left my life behind only to go right back to it. The cruise ended and I was back in my little place by campus, back to setting lofty agendas for each day and getting nowhere near meeting them, back to being a non-graduate who couldn't manage a featured role in a community production, whose heart palpitates when she tries to drive over 20mph, who doesn't want to get up in the morning and hates herself for getting a late start. I don't know how to get away from that without a big long boat to carry me away. As no boat seems to be forthcoming, I have to figure out how to create the magic of the Allure on my own...
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Friday, April 26, 2013
What have you learned?
All that's left of Senior Project is our defense, our explanation of what we set out to do in the class and whether or not we did it. I have a pretty certain answer to both of those questions and I don't need ten minutes to explain it, but I have one last question that I have yet to answer and it's been troubling me to try: what have you learned?
We signed up for times to view our presentations as part of our assessment of ourselves. I didn't want to. I hate watching myself. But I didn't think that I would see anything that would give me any new insight into how I performed. I forgot how excruciating it can be to see myself. It was awful from start to finish. I looked fat and uncomfortable in my dress, I was too quiet, I stared up entirely too much and I didn't like the person I saw onstage. I hate that I had to look at it. I've known for a long time that my endeavor in Senior Project was a complete failure, but it was something else entirely to have it staring me in the face. My monologue was especially painful because I didn't have my voice to rest on or my scene partner to blame. It was awful. And now I have to explain to them why it was awful.
After I reviewed my performances, I had the pleasure of reading the faculty's evaluations. I don't get to see who said what, but most of what I saw was not positive. Many of them shared my sentiments that I should have done better and was sorely lacking in the basics. As unapologetically honest as they were in their evaluations, I don't know if I can do the same in my defense. The fact is, I do blame some of my failure on them for not being supportive from the beginning, for assuming that I would spend half the semester looking for a suitabl piece, that when we showed our pieces for the first time, I hadn't done any work on mine. I do feel like I would have chosen a better monologue if I had had more time and I would have put more into it if I had more support. But despite what might have been, or even what was, there's nothing I can do about it now. There's no way to fix it, and even if I succeed in every theatrical thing I do from here on out, I don't know that that will "make up" for it. It is what it is. It's over now. But I have to revisit it and reexamine it and open myself up to their two cents as to why I fell so far short of expectations.
What have I learned? I close off when I don't feel supported. I knew that already. I have a hard time dedicating myself to something for the art of it when I feel like I'm being judged. I knew that too. It would be beneficial to learn how to deal with it, but I haven't learned that yet. My only hope is that when I study without being judged, things turn out better.
We signed up for times to view our presentations as part of our assessment of ourselves. I didn't want to. I hate watching myself. But I didn't think that I would see anything that would give me any new insight into how I performed. I forgot how excruciating it can be to see myself. It was awful from start to finish. I looked fat and uncomfortable in my dress, I was too quiet, I stared up entirely too much and I didn't like the person I saw onstage. I hate that I had to look at it. I've known for a long time that my endeavor in Senior Project was a complete failure, but it was something else entirely to have it staring me in the face. My monologue was especially painful because I didn't have my voice to rest on or my scene partner to blame. It was awful. And now I have to explain to them why it was awful.
After I reviewed my performances, I had the pleasure of reading the faculty's evaluations. I don't get to see who said what, but most of what I saw was not positive. Many of them shared my sentiments that I should have done better and was sorely lacking in the basics. As unapologetically honest as they were in their evaluations, I don't know if I can do the same in my defense. The fact is, I do blame some of my failure on them for not being supportive from the beginning, for assuming that I would spend half the semester looking for a suitabl piece, that when we showed our pieces for the first time, I hadn't done any work on mine. I do feel like I would have chosen a better monologue if I had had more time and I would have put more into it if I had more support. But despite what might have been, or even what was, there's nothing I can do about it now. There's no way to fix it, and even if I succeed in every theatrical thing I do from here on out, I don't know that that will "make up" for it. It is what it is. It's over now. But I have to revisit it and reexamine it and open myself up to their two cents as to why I fell so far short of expectations.
What have I learned? I close off when I don't feel supported. I knew that already. I have a hard time dedicating myself to something for the art of it when I feel like I'm being judged. I knew that too. It would be beneficial to learn how to deal with it, but I haven't learned that yet. My only hope is that when I study without being judged, things turn out better.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
The Aurora Affair
I had an awesome weekend. I was a little bit annoyed on Friday because my scene partner blew me off again, even though we're way past crunch time, but I went home glad to have put in a good day of class and work and looking forward to having no obligations for that evening so I oculd focus on getting ready for the weekend. This was the weekend I would audition for the Aurora Theatre, the first of the last three prospects I had before graduating with nothing to do for the summer, and the last prospect I had that would give me a reason to move straight home after commencement.
So I went home from a productive day of going to class and pretending to accomplish things at work, just in time for Dr. Phil and realized that my bag for the weekend still needed to be stuffed with random crap that I would definitely not need for this summer. That got me to cleaning shelves in my closet and, once again, sorting through oodles of papers that I can't remember why I kept before but am afraid to throw away now. I kept cleaning well into the night and was cleaning again the next morning when I woke up way earlier than I needed to. I did not sing with my practice buddy like I was supposed to, and I did not excercise to prepare my limbs for the long bus ride. I also was so slow to get my room "clean" that I didn't have time to print study materials to read on the bus trip. So it was that, though full, and armed with a fully stocked duffel bag full of random office supplies I doubt I've ever used at school, I trekked to th bus station and boarded the Greyhound once again for a straight shot to the A. Twas a lovey ride. Absent the things I was supposed to be reading, I entertained myself with the scenery, Pandora, and my musings about life and such. When I finally arrived at the Atlanta station almost an hour behind schedule, I was ready to be free of the bus, grab some dinner and relax at the house.
Since my audition was not until Sunday night, I figured I would have a day+ to study, work on my website, and maybe start my last abominable philosophy paper before the weekend was over. This was not to be as my mother had the boys for the weekend. By "the boys", I mean two of my three baby cousins whose names all start with J and who were all born within a month of each other about three years ago. They are adorable, fun-filled little balls of energy, and all my aspirations of productivity went out the window. I got caught up watching them play, gabbing with my mom and grandmother, and speculating with my sister about how awesome our cruise is going to be (so awesome), and before I knew it, I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. Then next thing I knew, I was waking up to my mother's cell phone alarm obnoxiously announcing to me that it was 7 a.m. I should have gotten water. My dry throat told me that I needed water, but my limbs felt like lead, and it occurred to me that this was the first bus ride I'd actually been largely conscious through. I didn't manage to get myself up until after 11, and even then, it was just enough to make sure the boys didn't kill each other while they played with my own Mickey toys. Mother and I were both going in and out of consciousness all day, so that when I was finally up, I was desparate for hydration and a reprieve from the chatter of little voices. I caught up on Smash, because it drives me, and downed glass after glass of water, but I still didn't feel "ready" when we piled into the car (because my mommy still drives me places) to drop off the boys before auditions. We stopped very briefly at my aunt's to unload the chilluns and managed to get to the venue almost half an hour before my audition slot.
This is all said to say that the preparation for this audition was not en point. Not only didn't I have the sense to get hydrated on Saturday, I somehow failed to realize that my dress, which I hadn't worn to an audition before, was see-through in some places. Trick of the light, perhaps? I ended up wearing my mother's jacket over it, which didn't really go well or fit at all, guzzling water from the water fountain, and trying to trill my voice awake after being to dry to do a proper warm-up. Needless to say, I was not altogether confident in myself when I walked into the alarmingly small room.
There was no mark for me to stand, so I tried to find a good place based on the eyeline I chose...forgetting that I take steps forward in both my song and monologue. By the time I was done, I was afraid I might run into the table. My monologue actually went better than I though it would, considering I'd been blanking on the lines a few times in the waiting area. My voice was definitely not warm enough to do my song justice, but I faked it as best I could, and smiled and said "thank you" at the end, like someone who hadn't just given a sub-par performance. The two adjudicators seemed to like it alright, but they didn't have any questions, and that made me nervous. The Dollywood people had me thinking that they liked my performance and they couldn't get me my rejection letter fast enough. I had already put on my form that I would not be available for callbacks the next day, so this was their last chance to see me before they made their decision. Didn't they want to see me?
I got back into the car not sure what to say when my mother asked me how it went. I settled on "okay" and let her know that they didn't want anything else from me that night as an explanation for why I got out so fast. I resolved not to dwell on it for the time being and recount the things that went wrong so that I can do better next time. Instead, I fretted about being up on time to catch my bus and not losing my Monday to the bus ride back.
We had been home for about ten minutes when my phone dinged to notify that I had an email. It was from Aurora! I had a callback!...that I couldn't make. I honestly thought about just staying and taking a later bus. After all, all I needed to do on Monday was review my senior project song and audition for Hairspray. How important was that? Everyone had already gone to bed, though, and I wasn't about the wake them up to tell them I was changing their lives.
I sent my regretful refusal to come to callbacks and went to sleep. I ended up missing my bus even though I got their in plenety of time, but I was able to get on the next express since it wasn't my fault. The bus trip was a nice one aside from my joy at having been worth a second look being shadowed by the fact that I hadn't been able to take advantage of it. I continued emailing back and forth with a rep from the theatre until we finally settled on a phone interview for the next day. I was back in Tally by this time, with just enough time to run home and shower before I had to head for campus.
I put off my phone interview for about 15 minutes, feeling, once again, that I was grossly unprepared. I wanted to justice to the fact that they were making such an effort to get to know me as well as they could before they made their decision. I wanted to do a good job. I wanted to be someone they would want to have around for the rest of the year.Talking to her on the phone made me want it even more. It all sounded so great with the classes and the shows and the different training options and I remembered the space being so beautiful, and I had solidly progressed from needed something to do to really wanting to be a part of this company by the time I hung up. I found myself wishing the conversation would last longer, much like I'd felt when the day of my long Dollywood audition ended. I wanted it real bad.
I got it. I got something right. I have a theatre position to go on to when I get out of school and it doesn't conflict with commencement or my cruise. It's flexible enough that I can get another job that isn't working midnights at a warehouse and I'm going to get to keep learning, keep growing, keep making my good better. She called me back the same day (yesterday) to tell me the good news and I had to fight to keep myself from squealing in the library. It took me three months, but I finally had a satisfying audition experience that ended well.
Things that I've learned:
Always have a jacket. My arms don't really need to be exposed in the first place, but especially not in 60 degree weather with a semi-see-through dress.
Wear heels. I actually knew that already. I just got caught up in other concerns and used to wearing my booties. I need to buy some heels.
It's good to be there early, but don't tell them you're there until you're ready. I would have had more preparation time if they hadn't been going ahead of schedule, but they decided to see me early since I was there. It may or may not have made a difference in this case, but it helps to have a moment to breathe before going into an audition.
Don't start too early. I was thrown by the fact that I had no little x to stand on and gave myself a spot without fully assesing the space.
The circumstances don't have to be perfect. I really didn't think I had a prayer when I got back into the car. Between their not asking any question and my being a little shaky, I walked away trying to reassure myself that at least I had learned some things. Now I know there's more than that.
So that's that. I'm moving back home this summer to be an apprentice at Aurora Theatre and work at Family Dollar. Yay me!
So I went home from a productive day of going to class and pretending to accomplish things at work, just in time for Dr. Phil and realized that my bag for the weekend still needed to be stuffed with random crap that I would definitely not need for this summer. That got me to cleaning shelves in my closet and, once again, sorting through oodles of papers that I can't remember why I kept before but am afraid to throw away now. I kept cleaning well into the night and was cleaning again the next morning when I woke up way earlier than I needed to. I did not sing with my practice buddy like I was supposed to, and I did not excercise to prepare my limbs for the long bus ride. I also was so slow to get my room "clean" that I didn't have time to print study materials to read on the bus trip. So it was that, though full, and armed with a fully stocked duffel bag full of random office supplies I doubt I've ever used at school, I trekked to th bus station and boarded the Greyhound once again for a straight shot to the A. Twas a lovey ride. Absent the things I was supposed to be reading, I entertained myself with the scenery, Pandora, and my musings about life and such. When I finally arrived at the Atlanta station almost an hour behind schedule, I was ready to be free of the bus, grab some dinner and relax at the house.
Since my audition was not until Sunday night, I figured I would have a day+ to study, work on my website, and maybe start my last abominable philosophy paper before the weekend was over. This was not to be as my mother had the boys for the weekend. By "the boys", I mean two of my three baby cousins whose names all start with J and who were all born within a month of each other about three years ago. They are adorable, fun-filled little balls of energy, and all my aspirations of productivity went out the window. I got caught up watching them play, gabbing with my mom and grandmother, and speculating with my sister about how awesome our cruise is going to be (so awesome), and before I knew it, I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. Then next thing I knew, I was waking up to my mother's cell phone alarm obnoxiously announcing to me that it was 7 a.m. I should have gotten water. My dry throat told me that I needed water, but my limbs felt like lead, and it occurred to me that this was the first bus ride I'd actually been largely conscious through. I didn't manage to get myself up until after 11, and even then, it was just enough to make sure the boys didn't kill each other while they played with my own Mickey toys. Mother and I were both going in and out of consciousness all day, so that when I was finally up, I was desparate for hydration and a reprieve from the chatter of little voices. I caught up on Smash, because it drives me, and downed glass after glass of water, but I still didn't feel "ready" when we piled into the car (because my mommy still drives me places) to drop off the boys before auditions. We stopped very briefly at my aunt's to unload the chilluns and managed to get to the venue almost half an hour before my audition slot.
This is all said to say that the preparation for this audition was not en point. Not only didn't I have the sense to get hydrated on Saturday, I somehow failed to realize that my dress, which I hadn't worn to an audition before, was see-through in some places. Trick of the light, perhaps? I ended up wearing my mother's jacket over it, which didn't really go well or fit at all, guzzling water from the water fountain, and trying to trill my voice awake after being to dry to do a proper warm-up. Needless to say, I was not altogether confident in myself when I walked into the alarmingly small room.
There was no mark for me to stand, so I tried to find a good place based on the eyeline I chose...forgetting that I take steps forward in both my song and monologue. By the time I was done, I was afraid I might run into the table. My monologue actually went better than I though it would, considering I'd been blanking on the lines a few times in the waiting area. My voice was definitely not warm enough to do my song justice, but I faked it as best I could, and smiled and said "thank you" at the end, like someone who hadn't just given a sub-par performance. The two adjudicators seemed to like it alright, but they didn't have any questions, and that made me nervous. The Dollywood people had me thinking that they liked my performance and they couldn't get me my rejection letter fast enough. I had already put on my form that I would not be available for callbacks the next day, so this was their last chance to see me before they made their decision. Didn't they want to see me?
I got back into the car not sure what to say when my mother asked me how it went. I settled on "okay" and let her know that they didn't want anything else from me that night as an explanation for why I got out so fast. I resolved not to dwell on it for the time being and recount the things that went wrong so that I can do better next time. Instead, I fretted about being up on time to catch my bus and not losing my Monday to the bus ride back.
We had been home for about ten minutes when my phone dinged to notify that I had an email. It was from Aurora! I had a callback!...that I couldn't make. I honestly thought about just staying and taking a later bus. After all, all I needed to do on Monday was review my senior project song and audition for Hairspray. How important was that? Everyone had already gone to bed, though, and I wasn't about the wake them up to tell them I was changing their lives.
I sent my regretful refusal to come to callbacks and went to sleep. I ended up missing my bus even though I got their in plenety of time, but I was able to get on the next express since it wasn't my fault. The bus trip was a nice one aside from my joy at having been worth a second look being shadowed by the fact that I hadn't been able to take advantage of it. I continued emailing back and forth with a rep from the theatre until we finally settled on a phone interview for the next day. I was back in Tally by this time, with just enough time to run home and shower before I had to head for campus.
I put off my phone interview for about 15 minutes, feeling, once again, that I was grossly unprepared. I wanted to justice to the fact that they were making such an effort to get to know me as well as they could before they made their decision. I wanted to do a good job. I wanted to be someone they would want to have around for the rest of the year.Talking to her on the phone made me want it even more. It all sounded so great with the classes and the shows and the different training options and I remembered the space being so beautiful, and I had solidly progressed from needed something to do to really wanting to be a part of this company by the time I hung up. I found myself wishing the conversation would last longer, much like I'd felt when the day of my long Dollywood audition ended. I wanted it real bad.
I got it. I got something right. I have a theatre position to go on to when I get out of school and it doesn't conflict with commencement or my cruise. It's flexible enough that I can get another job that isn't working midnights at a warehouse and I'm going to get to keep learning, keep growing, keep making my good better. She called me back the same day (yesterday) to tell me the good news and I had to fight to keep myself from squealing in the library. It took me three months, but I finally had a satisfying audition experience that ended well.
Things that I've learned:
Always have a jacket. My arms don't really need to be exposed in the first place, but especially not in 60 degree weather with a semi-see-through dress.
Wear heels. I actually knew that already. I just got caught up in other concerns and used to wearing my booties. I need to buy some heels.
It's good to be there early, but don't tell them you're there until you're ready. I would have had more preparation time if they hadn't been going ahead of schedule, but they decided to see me early since I was there. It may or may not have made a difference in this case, but it helps to have a moment to breathe before going into an audition.
Don't start too early. I was thrown by the fact that I had no little x to stand on and gave myself a spot without fully assesing the space.
The circumstances don't have to be perfect. I really didn't think I had a prayer when I got back into the car. Between their not asking any question and my being a little shaky, I walked away trying to reassure myself that at least I had learned some things. Now I know there's more than that.
So that's that. I'm moving back home this summer to be an apprentice at Aurora Theatre and work at Family Dollar. Yay me!
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Coleman Captive
So, um...it's raining. Outside. Right now. Considering it's one in the morning, my reaction should be "Yay! Cuddle weather!" but instead I'm like, "Boo! I pose a risk of getting electrocuted when I try to go home!" I decided that, after spending all day in sweats working in the humidity on technical theatre things, I ought to go to a show in a dress and sandals to feel a little bit less gross. Well, the show was lovely, and the thin material of my dress was greatly preferable to the overly insulated pants I exchanged them for, but when it was over, I felt it my duty to head back to the library to work on my website, since I'd found it to be impossible to do from my extremely crappy computer. Well, it turns out, I didn't fare much better on the library computers, which have all manner of restrictions on thm, not the least of which is, making it impossible for me to sift through the documents section. So, when I finally resolved that I'd done about all I could do and should pack it in, I didn't feel bad about it. I stepped outside with my headphones and my phone, cringing a little at making the walk in such impractical shoes...and then there was the water. On my head and all around me. My first though was, eh, it's not too bad. Then the sky lit up and immediately gave me second thoughts. I am not properly dressed nor particularly inclined to walk home alone late at night in a dress and sandals in the rain with no coat or umbrella when there is also lightning happening with pretty consistent frequency. So I'm back at the library computer, trying to figure out what to do with myself until either the rain lets up, a friend takes pity on me, or I become very brave. It's started raining harder since I came back in, less than ten feet from the building where I have class in six and a half hours. Another all-nighter it is for me. Providence is sending me some interesting signals.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Oops! I did it again...
Betimes I impress myself with just how lazy and irresponsible I can be. In my defense, my back really hurts and really hurt yesterday, prompting me to go home early where my very crappy computer makes it damn near impossible to accomplish anything not on a piece of paper AND, I might have been a bit more diligent if my professor was a little bit stricter or less accomodating of hypothetical situations. To my detriment, I watched Dance Moms and went to be early without working on my website or so much as glancing at my ethics assignment. It's a paper. Due the day before yesterday. Extended (by hypothetical grace) to tomorrow. I actually knew about the due date for this one last week and consciously put it off until, not just right before it was due, but right before it was past due but still admissable. And I'm starting it tonight. It is nine o'clock. I am a bad person. I am also supposed to be at work in twelve hours, so it's not optimal time for a paper hangover. Thank God I'm almost done.
I'm actually somewhat more optimistic about how painful this paper will be. Even though it has the same annoyingly formulaic professor, and therefore the same annoying formulaic guidelenes, I feel like I'll have a bit more wiggle room. I might actually have a voice. Am I right? Let's find out. Vamanos!
...I don't wanna do this anymore...
It is very hot in here and I want to go home and am considering taking my F.
It is still very hot. I have almost one paragraph.
So...about the difference between a moral argument and a legal argument...what is it?
It's happening again. I don't have a voice.
I currently hate life.
I am now watching youtube.
Youtube made me hate this paper even more.
Holy shiz it's one o'clock.
I am so angry right now I could punch a baby.
I hate my professor. the end
I'm actually somewhat more optimistic about how painful this paper will be. Even though it has the same annoyingly formulaic professor, and therefore the same annoying formulaic guidelenes, I feel like I'll have a bit more wiggle room. I might actually have a voice. Am I right? Let's find out. Vamanos!
...I don't wanna do this anymore...
It is very hot in here and I want to go home and am considering taking my F.
It is still very hot. I have almost one paragraph.
So...about the difference between a moral argument and a legal argument...what is it?
It's happening again. I don't have a voice.
I currently hate life.
I am now watching youtube.
Youtube made me hate this paper even more.
Holy shiz it's one o'clock.
I am so angry right now I could punch a baby.
I hate my professor. the end
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
How will I spend my 20s?
I'm sitting in the library listening to Francesca Battistelli sing an uplifting song about how God uses our trials for His purposes and I'm feeling pretty good even though I'm still behind in all of my classes and possibly failed two tests yesterday and still have not put in my submission for that gospel tour and am bleeding funds like a chronic drug user who hasn't switched to the hard stuff yet and...ya know. Life. But there are good things.
I was able to pick up some hours at work, so I can slow down the hemhorrage a teensy bit. I got an A+ on a paper I was really nervous about. In addition to the thing online I sill have to apply for, I still have two auditions coming up. They'll be after senior showcase, so I can hopefully figure out between now and then what made me so repulsive to my last two sets of creative teams. I have managed to exercise a little bit this week and practice enough that I felt like I was doing something, so I have less reason to self flagellate, and the week ain't but half over yet. Yes, I can still agonize about my scene for senior project, pout about my boss talking down to me, and wring my hands over not being any closer to jumping onto the road behind a driver's seat, but why would I do that after listening to Norm Lewis for an hour and watching a very decent episode of Smash? Those feelings are for another time.
Instead, I shall reflect on something that is just occurring to me: I am only 21. I was aware, of course, for several months that I was 21 yearsa old, but it's only just come up that there is an "only" attatched to it. While I was watching Smash, the great Bernadette Peters mentioned, as the great Leigh Conroy, that she was "only" 27 when she won her first Tony. This was immediately refuted by her highly irritated offspring and they had a little bitch off about it, but while that was happening, my mind began to wander back to when the cast of Spring Awakening appeared on the Rosie O'Donnel show and Rosie appeared to be floored by the fact that so much of the cast was under 24. It's come to my attention that it's notable for anyone to achieve some kind of notoriety before age 30. This begs the question, what are they doing before then?
My pet ambition up until March was to be an entertainer at Dollywood. Between my rejection from Dollywood and my dismissal from Stone Mountain, it's not looking too good for me on the theme park front. Then there's the logical step to theme parks, cruise ships, one of which I'm auditioning for later this month, but which seems to be somehow less attainable than a cruise ship. Then you have your summer houses, your dinner theatres, and your little restaurants where you sing for your supper. In which of these will I spend the next several years, making the painful crawl from one show to the next, hoping that each one makes me a bit more legitimate? It's weird to think of myself in one of those in-between places that hopefully brings me closer, but may not. It's strange to imagine being one of those people teachers are talking about when they say that there are lots of paid actors who don't work on Broadway...or Off-Broadway...or in regional houses...On the other hand, it's kind of fascinating to think of myself as someone who flits from gig to gig, singing a wedding here, doing a voiceover there, all of which happens in between shifts at California Pizza Kitchen with my fellow soldiers. That could be fun. That could be my own version of Smash.
There's no way I'll ever be the youngest person on Broadway, and there's nothing keeping me from being the oldest. It may be the happy vibes from the internet talking but, at the moment, I'm thinking it might be alright if I did some floating. WIf nothing else, it'll make for a good back story in my bio when I finally have someone to read it.
I was able to pick up some hours at work, so I can slow down the hemhorrage a teensy bit. I got an A+ on a paper I was really nervous about. In addition to the thing online I sill have to apply for, I still have two auditions coming up. They'll be after senior showcase, so I can hopefully figure out between now and then what made me so repulsive to my last two sets of creative teams. I have managed to exercise a little bit this week and practice enough that I felt like I was doing something, so I have less reason to self flagellate, and the week ain't but half over yet. Yes, I can still agonize about my scene for senior project, pout about my boss talking down to me, and wring my hands over not being any closer to jumping onto the road behind a driver's seat, but why would I do that after listening to Norm Lewis for an hour and watching a very decent episode of Smash? Those feelings are for another time.
Instead, I shall reflect on something that is just occurring to me: I am only 21. I was aware, of course, for several months that I was 21 yearsa old, but it's only just come up that there is an "only" attatched to it. While I was watching Smash, the great Bernadette Peters mentioned, as the great Leigh Conroy, that she was "only" 27 when she won her first Tony. This was immediately refuted by her highly irritated offspring and they had a little bitch off about it, but while that was happening, my mind began to wander back to when the cast of Spring Awakening appeared on the Rosie O'Donnel show and Rosie appeared to be floored by the fact that so much of the cast was under 24. It's come to my attention that it's notable for anyone to achieve some kind of notoriety before age 30. This begs the question, what are they doing before then?
My pet ambition up until March was to be an entertainer at Dollywood. Between my rejection from Dollywood and my dismissal from Stone Mountain, it's not looking too good for me on the theme park front. Then there's the logical step to theme parks, cruise ships, one of which I'm auditioning for later this month, but which seems to be somehow less attainable than a cruise ship. Then you have your summer houses, your dinner theatres, and your little restaurants where you sing for your supper. In which of these will I spend the next several years, making the painful crawl from one show to the next, hoping that each one makes me a bit more legitimate? It's weird to think of myself in one of those in-between places that hopefully brings me closer, but may not. It's strange to imagine being one of those people teachers are talking about when they say that there are lots of paid actors who don't work on Broadway...or Off-Broadway...or in regional houses...On the other hand, it's kind of fascinating to think of myself as someone who flits from gig to gig, singing a wedding here, doing a voiceover there, all of which happens in between shifts at California Pizza Kitchen with my fellow soldiers. That could be fun. That could be my own version of Smash.
There's no way I'll ever be the youngest person on Broadway, and there's nothing keeping me from being the oldest. It may be the happy vibes from the internet talking but, at the moment, I'm thinking it might be alright if I did some floating. WIf nothing else, it'll make for a good back story in my bio when I finally have someone to read it.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
I'm not graduating
They won't let me graduate. I don't get to graduate. Even though I took two different AP exams in high school that should count as freshman English courses, they don't count for enough because I only got 3s. A 3 is passing, but nothing special, an easily foreseeable result of my being terrible with times writings and confusing the same cluster of literary terms over and over again. FAMU accepts 3s, mind you. I mean, you can't very well expect an institution that takes in people who have gotten 440 in a subject on their SATs to scoff at a person who's taken and passed an AP exam when said person could have taken home economics (or in my case, Pro Arte) instead for an easy A. But they only accept it so much. According to them, my 3s only count for one class, that being the very first ENC class. So even though, AP Lit. focuses on exploring literature the same way ENC 1102 focuses on literary analysis, while AP Lang focuses on composition the same way ENC 1101 throws out the basic elements of writing that everyone should have learned in literature, the two AP courses amount to the same college course, which is one less than I need to graduate.
The bitch of it is that the only reason they count for one course instead of two is that I got 3s in both of them. To clarify, taking one exam and getting a 4 on it is the equivalent of taking two college courses, but taking two exams and getting a not four but still passing grade on both of them is the equivalent of taking one college course. Because FAMU is nothing if not logical. So I'm short a credit to graduate. And, no matter how aggressively my mother dials my phone number, there's nothing anyone can do about it because apparently FAMU really really really really really thinks that everyone should take ENC 1102 as there is absolutely no other way to test out of the course. Every other testing program would only give me yet another ENC 1101 credit that I don't need, and cost me money that I don't have. The fact that no one mentioned to me any of the other times I trekked to Foote-Hilyer to find out why the hell my shit wasn't showing up on my transcript (even though I clearly told that trick that I should have five credits listed and she smiled and told me they would be up in no time) means that it's too late for me to register for an English course, which I considered doing in January but decided not to at the last minute because they have nothing to teach me. I've done perfectly fine with my lack of college English thus far, and between my AP classes and my working in the writing center, I've taken this class at least two times over.
So this is really happening. I'm really one of those people whose degree is being held hostage over one stupid freshman class. And not even a class that I would learn anything from, but a class that has the same information and offers the same skills I've been using since my sophomore year in high school. Betimes I could apply them better, but the fact remains, I would get nothing from taking this course. The only avenue I haven't tried is registering to take the AP exam again to see if I can pull out a 4 because it happens to be taking place at the same time that I will be on a cruise in honor of the graduation that won't happen. Mother should have purchased insurance when she had the chance.
So that's it. I absolutely can't get this English credit before May, so I absolutely won't have a degree on it's way to me over the summer and I absolutely will be walking across the stage to collect an empty envelope in front of my family, who have already recieved the graduation announcements. I can't even register to take the class over the summer right now because my outstanding graduation application (which is now bullshit) has placed a hold on my account. I am angry and I am tired. All this worrying about what I'll do once I've graduated, and now it's not even going to happen. We plan. God laughs. I cry.
The bitch of it is that the only reason they count for one course instead of two is that I got 3s in both of them. To clarify, taking one exam and getting a 4 on it is the equivalent of taking two college courses, but taking two exams and getting a not four but still passing grade on both of them is the equivalent of taking one college course. Because FAMU is nothing if not logical. So I'm short a credit to graduate. And, no matter how aggressively my mother dials my phone number, there's nothing anyone can do about it because apparently FAMU really really really really really thinks that everyone should take ENC 1102 as there is absolutely no other way to test out of the course. Every other testing program would only give me yet another ENC 1101 credit that I don't need, and cost me money that I don't have. The fact that no one mentioned to me any of the other times I trekked to Foote-Hilyer to find out why the hell my shit wasn't showing up on my transcript (even though I clearly told that trick that I should have five credits listed and she smiled and told me they would be up in no time) means that it's too late for me to register for an English course, which I considered doing in January but decided not to at the last minute because they have nothing to teach me. I've done perfectly fine with my lack of college English thus far, and between my AP classes and my working in the writing center, I've taken this class at least two times over.
So this is really happening. I'm really one of those people whose degree is being held hostage over one stupid freshman class. And not even a class that I would learn anything from, but a class that has the same information and offers the same skills I've been using since my sophomore year in high school. Betimes I could apply them better, but the fact remains, I would get nothing from taking this course. The only avenue I haven't tried is registering to take the AP exam again to see if I can pull out a 4 because it happens to be taking place at the same time that I will be on a cruise in honor of the graduation that won't happen. Mother should have purchased insurance when she had the chance.
So that's it. I absolutely can't get this English credit before May, so I absolutely won't have a degree on it's way to me over the summer and I absolutely will be walking across the stage to collect an empty envelope in front of my family, who have already recieved the graduation announcements. I can't even register to take the class over the summer right now because my outstanding graduation application (which is now bullshit) has placed a hold on my account. I am angry and I am tired. All this worrying about what I'll do once I've graduated, and now it's not even going to happen. We plan. God laughs. I cry.
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