Tantrum Time

It's times like this I really wish I had a calming, supportive presence in my life who thought that the very childish tendencies I have are actually quite cute and is able and willing to let them pass in quiet amusement until I'm able to get control of myself and pretend to be a grown-up. As that is not the case, I had no ready audience for the explosive temper tantrum that welled up inside of me after I recieved and email from the theatre program. It turns out, instead of the six weeks that they spent rehearsing for Smokey Joe's Cafe, the powers that be have decided on a whopping nine weeks of rehearsal for The Color Purple, starting on the 17th, also known as the second week of rehearsals for Oklahoma! The rehearsal week will most likely be Monday-Friday, which means that, instead of maybe having to drop out of the recital in April, I'll be unable to take class at all. In a nutshell, my hopes for my last undergraduate semester have come crashing down like a comet with dinosaurs in it's sights.

THIS IS SO UNFAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had actually calmed down. I was thanking God for my grades. I was accepting the fact that I may not be able to do that cockamamie double-major-in-my-last-year thing. I was beginning preparations for my little audition tour. And now this. I just can't win. No matter how bright the flash is in the moment, it's always followed by an abrupt dissipation into darkness. My second semester is suppoed to be a breeze. It's supposed to be my redemption, my picking myself up after a major fall that led to being stuck on my back like an unfortunate cockroach. Being essentially unemployed, I'm supposed to have lots of time to devote to my studies and preparation for my auditions, without the stress of worrying about falling behind. I'm supposed to grow as a dancer through Oklahoma! rehearsals and jazz fusion classes until I'm able to confidently perform at a recital and know that I deserve to be there. I'm supposed to come off of Oklahoma! with another show, serving as one last chance to end my college career with that bang of affirmation I'm finally able to admit to seeking. It's supposed to get better. It's not getting better.

I absolutely cannot double major and graduate in the spring. All of the philosophy classes I would choose from to take are full, and there aren't any CLEP or (to my knowledge) online options that aren't something I've already taken. I took this in stride, too busy at the time appreciating my grades to lament the loss of that adendum to my piece of paper. However, now, it seems like another kick in the pants. I also can't send my AP scores over the phone. Without them, I'm shy one English course, and I simply refuse to take a freshman English class as a senior. Not only am I completely uninclined to spend any of my time matching wits with a bunch of reluctant outside majors who were reared by failing school districts, I strongly believe that I shouldn't have to. On the other side of the coin, I currently have enrolled in only three classes, as I have met all of the other requirements for my one major and minor, and will have to six more credits out of some orifice to be considered a full-time student and qualify for my scholarship. If my woes were purely academic, I might take some time to point out how ridiculous it is that the university, though largely in debt, requires its presidential scholars to take more classes than necessary, thereby spending more of the school's money than necessary, in order to take the classes which are necessary. As it is, that is not my principle concern at the moment.

I absolutely cannot do both Oklahoma! and The Color Purple. Their respective rehearsal schedules are right on top of one another, and the Department is not at all known for being understanding when it comes to other committments, much less other theatrical committments, much less other theatrical committments that involve moi. Ensemble though it is, I've already been cast in Oklahoma!, so by even auditioning for The Color Purple, I open myself up to the possibility of backing out of a committment I've already made and screwing a director of whom I'm very fond out of a cast member...again. I'm in no humor to take an ensemble role in the last major production of my undergraduate career, especially one that will take me out of the best performance training venture available to me at the moment. But...I can't let go of this burning desire to have that moment of affirmation, that time when I know my worth based on my position and can carry that into the real world once I leave the shelter of college. As aware as I am that I should not seek to be justified externally, I want to get to take the stage in Charles Winterwood before I have to take on a professional stage. Not only will it be a boost to my confidence to have been cast in a major role for a reason besides the fact that they didn't really have anyone else (a la Whorehouse), it'll soften some of the skepticism that the lack of professional credits on my resume will inspire in potential employers. I honestly don't think I could take another experience like Wrestling With Angels, and will definitely not sign on for such...but there is still the chance that, this time, I'll get the outcome I've been wanting. I don't need to star/be a principle in The Color Purple, but I want it. I want it real bad. And that can't happen unless I audition. If I auditon, I will probably be cast. The show has a big ensemble, and, even though the director is not at all fond of me, I'm pretty sure the choreographer would be happy to have me on as a workhorse. The problem is, I don't want to be a workhorse. I'm sick of being a workhorse, and I'm sick of having my progress determined by whether the faculty like what they see (no need to acknowledge the hypocrisy of still wanting to be cast as a principle by the department) in me, versus how far I feel I've come. I can't do it. I won't do it. In the event that my cowardice wins over my determination, I'll know that I've set myself up for a miserable nine weeks. In the event that I'm able to follow my heart, I'll have pissed off the faculty one more time. Someone is going to lose in this situation, and if history is any indication, that someone will be me.

This is so stupid. Why why WHY  do we have to have nine weeks of rehearsal? Ain't Misbehavin' had six weeks. Smokey Joe's had six weeks. Crowns definitely had six weeks, and waited until January to announce a cast so that the rehearsal process couldn't possibly be any longer. What is it about this show that made them flip the script? It could be, of course, that the fact that this show has an actual plot, not just a bunch of songs strung together, means that it warrants more attention in the eyes of the director. I see this as a definite possibility. On the other hand, I've done other shows (with plots) in the shorter time-frame and, barring the stress of having to learn to skate and the breakdown over being told to shut up, they went just fine. Although The Color Purple is a major undertaking because of its long timespan and large cast, there isn't anything particularly challenging that would make it warrant more time than the standard six-eight weeks. Eight weeks, I would resent but understand. Nine feels like overkill, and a reiteration by the faculty that we should all sit on our asses and wait for the department to pluck us from the abyss, rather than seek opportunities to hone and showcase our skills wherever we can find them. And I've no indication that this longer timespan will mean that the creative team will be any more understanding about conflicts of any kind, including the ones that keep me off of food stamps. Music rehearsals, the most crucial for a musical production, are going to be first, so it's not like I can miss out on the beginning of the rehearsal process and catch up later. As I learned with Xanadu, it's much harder to learn a dance when you don't know the song yet. I don't think they're going to capitalize on the time that they have us, and I can already feel myself being taken for granted. Three and a half years I'm at this school and there isn't one show they put on that makes me want to be a part of it. Now, at the eleventh hour, they put me in this very uncomfortable position. I'm am both completely helpless and completely in control. It's up to me whether I audition (Let's not kid ourselves: I'm totally auditioning) or not. It was my decision to audition for and accept a role in Oklahoma! and it will by my decision to hold onto that role or reject it in favor of the people who are so good at putting me down. I have too many choices to make and not enough is in my hands. It's always "or", never "and." Oh, if life were made of moments.

Now for some specifics

Okay, I really can't articulate my feelings about the whole "do better-what if there is no better" notion that's plaguing my mind right now, so I'll instead take a look at the situation that made me well on that particular problem at this moment. I was at work, at the Writing Center, noodling around, as per final exam time, and I got called into my boss's office. I had already come to terms with all of the badness of the semester, but I was still nervous. Confrontation of any kind unnerves me, and confronting my own failings was not my first choice as a prelude to my last final. Well, I went to her office, and it turns out the only reason for the visit was to let me know that I didn't have a contract waiting for me for the next term. This was not surprising information. I've had at least three clients who thought that getting their work straight was secondary to complaining about how I made them feel in our sessions, and, after each instance, my supervisors made clear that the clients' perspectives were the only ones that mattered. I accepted after the second one that no one wants to work with a bitch, and this bitch was frankly tired of being bitched about. I had not, on the other hand, managed to find alternative part-time employment, which means the hole I started this semester while not getting paid won't get shallow anytime soon. Instead of graduating debt free, I'll be about $20,000 in debt. I will not likely be able to find another job on campus, which means I'll either have to resort to working in the food service industry or need to find a very understanding business off-campus that can deal with my lack of transportation and obnoxious rehearsal schedule. More probably, it means I'll just be essentially unemployed for the semester during which I'll have to travel and print headshots many times in hopes of securing some type of employment. Truth be told, I've been sick of this job since mid-October when I couldn't seem to get all of my reports in and I kept getting obnoxious clients who didn't do what they were supposed to and thought that I would somehow be able to fix it. I got sick of people coming in who couldn't spot basic grammar errors, who didn't follow simple directions, who didn't know how to think critically. Part of me felt sorry for them, but part of me was angry that people like this had been let into my school. I wanted so badly to deal with students who wanted to be there, who came in good and only got better. I never get what I want. I did have some clients whom I enjoyed. Some were at least willing to work. Some showed marked improvement. But they were few and far between, and I didn't have it in me to appreciate the assholes the same way I appreciated the regulars. Neither could I comprehend how my supervisors were so concerned with whether these people were having a good experience and gave not a thought to how miserable I was, to how little the clients contributed to making one session or another a positive one. It wasn't working on either side. It only made sense that I would be let go. Still, I've been working here for over a year. I'm comfortable here. I do have good days that I'll never be able to have again and I really like my colleagues. Tutoring is technically my first real job. Getting it meant establishing that I'm employable. Losing it means contesting that establishment. Could I have been nicer? I could have smiled more, but it would not have been genuine. When I like a client, I warm to him even if I'm having a bad day, and vice versa if a client is really pissing me off. I wanted to make an impact, to bring improvement to the writers who come here. I realized at some point that that isn't really in my power. Even when I genuinely was in a client's corner, I'd often see him do better with another tutor. At the same time, there were people who I felt did value me for what I had to offer. It saddens me that my work with them doesn't count. I wish I could have been better, but I really can't say what would have made that happen. The thing that really bothers me, though, is that they took the time to let me know they don't want me anymore, not that they needed to tell me. I knew my contract ended at the end of the term and I knew I hadn't been sent to sign another one. I wasn't planing on being here next semester, and I could tell I wouldn't be missed. I don't know why it is that they chose to give me what amounts to a referendum on my performance this past semester. I had come to terms with that and decided to put it behind me when they decided to put it in my face. My boss went so far as to ask me if I had any questions, as if anything they told me at this point would make a difference. It was like she was looking for an opportunity to tell me how much I suck. She didn't need to tell me. I know. And now that's all I can think about.

#dobetter

In our last golden shower of the semester, one student rose her hand and said that what she was getting from this talk is that w need to do better. I've had a lot of that this semester. Do better on Wrestling With Angels. Do better in events. Do better at the Writing Center. Do better in class. I would get yet another horrible grade from my New Testament test and think o myself, Next time I'm going to know this material backwards and forwards an next time I'm going to be able to answer these questions like a musical theatre category on Jeopardy! Then the next test would roll around and, once again, I'd be a deer in headlights, having no idea what I was being asked or when I was supposed to learn those things. I would show up to rehearsal determined to bring out something new, something worthwhile, this time around, and be stuck in the same head space as weeks before. In every aspect of my life this past three months, I've needed to do well and done poorly. I've set out to succeed and failed. Now here I am, just out of my final final on my second-to-last day of work, and I'm consumed by how little I've accomplished in this time. I was very angry when I found out that my set design professor had decided that our work was so worthless that we should all have to start over, and resolved after he tore up my third box that I would waste time attempting to gt it right, only when I had witnesses to my effort. By final presentation time, I wanted nothing but for it to be over so that I could put it behind me and get on with my life. Nonetheless, I couldn't help but dwell on the disappointment in myself I felt when I sat down after my presentation. Despite my general reluctance to try at something where there was no chance of succeeding, I genuinely want to do well in things that I do, even things I don't particularly want to do. Hence, my attempts to deal with ornery WRC clients and relate to my stupid spoiled classmates in WWA. I cannot look back at this time with a mile. Neither do my prospects appear any better looking forward. I couldn't manage a leading role in a community production, I wont have a steady job, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm expected to do with myself academically. In the prolific words of Eugene O'Neil, the pat is the present, and the future. I really shouldn't be so floored that this semester was such a monumental failure. I've been failing monumentally at everything all my life. Would it really have made a difference if I'd been able to go to Atlanta and audition for BOM when there were so many actual professionals headed there? Probably not. A ride to the audition wouldn't have made me a better actress or singer, or made me more likable. Receiving a paycheck those two months my contract was mysteriously missing wouldn't have made me any less open with those annoying clients. Maybe I can't do better. Maybe this is as good as it gets.

"Featured" Dancer

Once again, I thought it was my turn. I really thought I was going to get a chance to play a part and get it right, to be a character and go on a journey with her and have what I put into her count for something. Once again, I was wrong. It's not that I've never played a part before. I got lucky in Millie at Fabrefaction. I was able to finally get a lead at DSA in Sweeney Todd. I had my moment in Whorehouse as Jewel. I should be grateful for those, I know. And if I were just now recieving those roles, I would be. But, as it stands, I need a major role to feel like I'm doing something. I need it to happen now so that I can hope for something to happen in the future. It's not happening.

I suppose I could count my part in Wrestling With Angels as a lead, but, considering the lack of character development and the fact that I act as furniture dressing for the bulk of the show, and the hell I caught for not doing it right pretty much pushes that whole experience into a black hole as far as I'm concerned. The last time I was disappointed by the casting of a show at QMT with a role I really wanted to play, I was willing to accept that the cast had a very specific balance to obtain, and there is no real ensemble for me to try to fit into. As disappointed as I was was, I was able to get past resenting the decision. Not so this time around. I really feel in my hear and soul that I could have brought justice to Ado Annie and I hate that I haven't been given the chance. Now there is an ensemble for them to stick me, so while some other person gets to experience all of the magic that happens with developing my part, I get to look like a jackass trying to keep up with real dancers.

I didn't know how badly I wanted the part until I knew I couldn't have it, and I didn't know whether to be more hurt or indignant that I was, instead, cheerfully asked to be a featured dancer in the show. I have to admit, I was flattered when I was asked to stick around and learn the combination for the dream sequence at callbacks. I'm not a dancer, and I know I'll never be a dancer, but I do hope to continue to grow in my dancing, so it was nice that m growth seemed to be recognized. However, the fact is, I'll never be cast as a dancer in any professional setting, so when a director sees that on my resume, he'll rightly assume that there weren't many real dancers to choose from and I hadn't been able to prove that I could be effective as a real character. Furthermore, I very much dowbt that I'll actually be featured in anyway. I was cast in Cabaret to be a featured singer and I did nothing of import. I could have gotten hit by a bus on the way to the theatre right before the show and no one would have noticed. What then, does being a featured dancer mean, but that I'll be scrambling in the back a beat behind everyone else? Of course, it might not end up like that. I might turn out to be a brilliant performer in the dancer. That may be the thing I get out of this show. But that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted lines and two love interests. I wanted an endearing, but self-depricating song about my fondness for the opposite sex. I wanted to have a sweet, affectionate relationship with my father figure. I want what Ivy wants. I want a real part. I got a nobody role. Again. I want to be somebody.

Our Monthly Golden Shower

     The semester is over and, even though I'm generally disappointed with the way things have gone, I felt really good about things today. Wrestling With Angels is over, I no longer have that blasted New Testament paper eating my soul, made it to my first class on time and feel fairly confident I'll be able to get through my test and final, I'm exempt from two finals and will be ready for the rest of them, I had a great audition last night about which I feel quite confident, and tonight is the first free weeknight I've had outside of Thanksgiving. Compared to how I felt, say, Friday morning, everything was coming up roses for me this afternoon. Then I went to the department meeting.
     Typically, the majors and minors meet with the faculty on the first Tuesday of every month, supposedly to keep us up to date on happenings in the theatre department and guide us in any ways we need it. However, every meeting I go to somehow results in a tongue-lashing from some or all of the faculty on what a bang-up job we students are not doing. The exception in this meeting was that there was no discussion or guidance leading into the tongue-lashing. On the contrary, they (the faculty) called this meeting particularly to piss on us (the students).
     We didn't get agendas, like we usually do. We didn't have our supervisors take attendance as we settled into our seats or pass around a sign-in sheet. Instead, our warden stood before us and proceeded to draw out how pleased our patrons and audience members were with the last performance (Wrestling With Angels). She related how people from other departments extol the unity among us theatre majors and the wonderful results that we get when we put on a show. Dr. Matthews has a great talent for making people feel like shit. Even as she recounted all these observations she'd gotten that would be taken as compliments from anyone else, I could hear the edge of disapproval in her voice, see the cut of reproach in her eyes. I knew better than to dwell on the positivity because of what was coming next. I was not surprised, then, when she switched the subject from the results to the process. When speaking of this process, she brought up our most recent production.
     Having come off of the most excruciating theatrical process I can remember, at the end of the most disheartening semester I can remember, I wasn't feeling particularly eager to revisit it. On the contrary, I looked forward to pushing this show as far behind me as humanly possible. Instead, I had my disapproving dean inviting my disheartening director to further speak on what a collective disappointment we are as a department. I sat and listened as, after two months of pushing to get this part right, to follow his instruction, to give him what he wanted, he proceeded to bitch and moan about how irresponsible we are, how uncommitted we are, and how much that hurts him. Never mind how much it hurts me to have him telling me how much I sucked all the time that I was putting my all into this show. Never mind how much it hurt for him to tell me I was wrong about everything that I brought to the table. Ironically (or hypocritically), he opened his bitchfest with the insistence that this wasn't about him.
     He whined about his disappointment and his sadness and his loss, then his theatre wife threw in her two cents about what horrible students we are, how little we take this work seriously, and how we've killed her spirit. Then the tag-team flogging continued to my least favorite professor, whom I can't remember feeling anything but contempt for, decided to throw his two Confederate cents into the bucket. This designer, who teaches two classes to majors, neither of which have anything to do with performance, felt it incumbent upon himself to ask us collectively what our aversion to the process is. To the person for whom the process is so important, this comment is insulting and off-base. And frankly, it pisses me off that he thinks he's so psychic that he can speak for the thoughts of an entire body of students. I have nothing respectful to say in response to that, sense I'm not one of the people whose minds he's able to read, so I say nothing. The trouble with this is, the rest of the room also says nothing in response to his assholish question.
     After the faculty demanded some kind of response, I figured that I was at least entitled to throw in my two cents concerning the fact that he didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. I spoke up for myself, about how my homework gets thrown out the window, about how it feels to be told that there's no value in any of the effort I've made, that I didn't get anything right, that the work needs to begin when the work has been happening for weeks, and the crux of the response was "Deal with it." Then the asshole who initially asked the bullshit question that wasn't worthy of an answer came back with a counter-question of, "How do students deal with having that response? Because if students pout..." This self-important son of a bitch nearly had a shoe thrown at him. He had no right to speak on me or anyone else whose mind he can't read because he's no more psychic than I am. In the end, the resolution became that "We're not talking about that right now." So people who don't have their hit together, who don't try, who don't do their work, who don't care enough to fully invest, get a meeting dedicated to them, but the people who have their shit together, who have genuine concerns about having their work shit all over and thrown out, don't get two seconds out of that meeting. I never understand what these people want from me.
     After the initial fuck you storm, we got the threats of not being cast in The Color Purple, the "don't be concerned about who likes you" speech that pretends to have our best interest at heart, and a nice little referendum on our not liking favoritism that rubbed our noses in the fact that they shoved their heads up the same girl's ass for four years. When it over, I felt nothing of contempt. I don't trust these people to look out for me because all they do is put me down. I'd much rather do a community show than make these pissers my priority.