I had a very specific idea of how my spring break would go. It would start with an excursion to Kentucky for SETC where, even though I wouldn't be an official auditionee, I would expose myself through workshops and shop my headshot around to every good prospect I could think of. Afterwards, I would run home to quickly secure my legal documents before jetting off to the Big Apple for a fun-filled weekend of Broadway, ending with a shot to Connecticut where I would audition for dozens of reputable companies from around the country before coming back to home base in the A where I would audition for dozens of reputable theatre companies in the Atlanta area. It was going to be great. It was...until the Sunday before SETC.
I woke up closing day of Oklahoma! with a tickle in my throat that had evolved into a nasty illness by that night, an illness that refused to leave, even out of respect for my willingness to crawl my sick butt out of bed in the middle of the night for a 17 hour bus trip by myself. Instead, my fever came back with a vengeance that Wednesday night, so much so that my fellow conferencce attendees insisted I be trapped in the hotel room for another day rather than go out and enjoy all that the conference had to offer. If I wasn't so weak I would have had the energy to be very angry with them. The trip ended up being a bust and, as I boarded my bus for the eight hour trip to Atlanta, I wished sincerely that I had stayed in bed in Tallahassee. My mother took a cue from my friends in Kentucky, insisting that I was too sick to go to New York. The prospect of New York had ceased to be an opportunity anyway, however, since I wasn't approved to audition for NETC. Then on Tuesday, I got an email from Atlanta Performs announcing that my paperwork wasn't in order, which meant I may not have an audition slot with them after all. Instead of being seen by a hundred companies in the course of a couple of weeks, I was faced with the prospect of not being seen by any. On top of that, my search for pieces of mail with my name on it revealed a rejection letter from Dollywood dated in February which my mother was strategically keeping from me, much the same way she kept my rejection letter from Carnegie Mellon from me even though she knew I was looking out for it. Is it worse to keep hope alive when nothing will come of it than to crush your daughter's dreams? Who knows, but by the time I found that letter, I was ready to punch a baby.
Above all else, that letter seemed to affirm that I was the one that nobody wanted. After all, how could a girl who couldn't manage to secure the lead in a community production think she'd attract professionals to give her something in exchange for her work? It was a dismal week that saw many hours on th couch watching America's Next Top Model marathons and wondering why it is I'm not good enough. At one point, I vented to my partner in ambition that I might lose an audition. He sympathized, but only briefly. He almost immediately asked, "What are your other prospects?" What are my other prospects? What do you do if you don't get the job? What's the next step? It's taken about a week of moping, but I think I'm finally prepared to answer some of those questions. First though, I need to acknowledge a few truths.
I could stand to lighten up a little. One thing that I did get out of SETC, was the chance to hear Norm Lewis share a bit of wisdom. The biggest thing I took from him was his admonition not to let your gift define you. I have pretty much lived in constant terror that I would lose the theatre game since I was a freshman at DSA and I screwed up my first audition. If I'm going to be a real actor, I have to be a complete person. And if I'm not going to be a real actor, fretting still does me no good.
I can get more out of my life than I am right now. I've been on the guilt trip about voice lessons, but it's more than that. There's practice on my own time. There's recital attendence. There's seeing more shows and reading more scripts. There's the gym and the track, the dance studio and my room. All the world's a stage, and the whole stage is a classroom. And in that same vein
I am not my best. This is a good thing. I don't have to settle for what I am now, and if people don't want what I am now, I can still be something they want in the future. I can still (fingers crossed) become a triple threat. I can still get that high C. I can still approach a character through my body with the same intensity that I approach a character through my psyche. I can even still pick up an instrument enough to give casting directors hope. It's not over.
Oklahoma! was a mistake. I met some cool people and I got to be in the can-can, but as a production, Oklahoma! gave me pretty much no opportunities to grow physically, vocally, or theatrically. On top of that, it was an annoying and too time-consuming rehearsal process that ended up producing an okay (no pun intended) show that doesn't say anything about me but that I can get cast again by the same people. My time would have been better spent working on my dancing, preparing for auditions, and seeking more post-graduation prospects.
I need to take care of myself. I got severely ill seemingly out of nowhere and wasn't equipped to fight it. I should be healthier than that. I should never allow a few germs to ruin what coould be an excellent week and I should never not know what's going on with my body. I need to know myself better.
I still lack accountability. Too often, I choose not to share things for fear that no one will care or that I'll be judged for my failures. Not so. People care and, even if some judge, it's important to share. It's important not to bear everything alone and then wonder why the load is so heavy.
I haven't graduated yet. The clock is still ticking and May isn't getting any farther away, but until I walk across that stage, I have yet to be evicted from the shelter of college. I still have time to get that break. I still have time to be proud of myself. I still have other prospects.
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