Music: Michael Cera & Ellen Page– “Anyone Else But You”
And now to a story I’d like to call: “The First Audition.”
Early Friday morning, my mother and I drove to a location that will remain secret so that I could audition for a school whose name shall remain secret (gotta keep the confidentiality, people). The first stretch of the car ride was peaceful: I took a little nap (a good idea on my part, considering I slept 3 hours the night before), drank some coffee, had a bagel, etc. The second half, however, was full of PANIC. I started obsessively going over my monologues in my head, and I listened to my chosen songs on repeat (in retrospect, this must have been really fun for my mom). In what felt (unfortunately) like no time at all, we pulled into the parking lot. After nervously gathering all my things, we finally entered the building where the audition was taking place and made are way through a sea of various auditioners to the college-age boy who was signing people in. I then stood in line with several other girls as we waited for the only bathroom stall so that we could change into our dance attire. We made polite chit-chat, knowing all the while that each girl was sizing the others up, trying to guess who her biggest competition would be. I came out and attended a brief info session about the school, trying to manage all the forms that they gave me to fill out. It was more difficult than you would imagine, because my hands were shaking so hard that I could barely write my name.
I was in a group of about 9 kids who participated in the dance section of the audition first. It was run by this pretty intimidating man and his small (but frighteningly muscular) Hispanic dance captain– this kid had stamina like you would not believe. The dance was difficult but I was getting most of it as he was teaching. Later on, however, when he split us into groups of 3 to perform it, I completely blanked. He was watching us as we learned it, though, so there’s still some hope that I didn’t come of as a complete imbecile.
After finishing up this section, changing back into my nice clothes, and reapplying deodorant about 12 times, I waited for a looooong time to sing my songs. The “best” part about waiting for auditions is that you inevitably chug about 5 bottles of water, and then have to go to the bathroom just as many, if not more, times. When it was finally my turn, I went into the room, gave the pianist my music, and sang my two songs. Then they said thank you and sent me back out into the waiting room. As nice as it was to be finished with this section so quickly, it worried me a bit. It seemed like other people were in there for so much longer, singing their songs multiple times, singing even more things than me. Even now, as I analyze every second of the audition, this part seems like a bad sign, but you never really know for sure.
After waiting another very looooong time, I was sent into a third and final room where a man watched my monologue. He seemed to like it and laughed (don’t worry, he was supposed to), and even better, he seemed to like me, noting that there was something “very interesting about me” and remarking how “clever” I was. Then, however, he continued with a speech that I’m still confused about. He told me that I was a character actress—that’s what I was and he wanted to be sure I knew that. He went on andon about how that’s what the industry will see me as and it’s important for me to be realistic about these things. I was agreeing with him mostly, although I did try to say that I don’t like to “categorize myself as one type of actor.” There was only one thing I wanted to know when he was saying all this, and I felt like shouting it at the top of my lungs: is this a good thing or a bad thing?? Every time I reflect on the audition, I come up with a different answer. Was he trying to tell me that my position as a “character actress” would help or hurt my chances of getting into the school? Was he viewing this as a positive or negative thing to be? Was he just trying to tell me that I’m weird looking (because sometimes that’s what people mean when they say that)? The worst part about auditions—I’ll never know.
Immediately after this happened, I was very upset. I didn’t show it until we were far away from the building, waiting to pick up our car, but after I while, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I just started to sob about how I won’t be accepted and how awful I was and how harsh that teacher was. Meanwhile, my mom stood awkwardly as ten different workers tried to find our car; luckily, this only took about 20 minutes, so a whole slew of people got to see me standing in the cold, in the middle of the parking lot, weeping uncontrollably. Awesome!
Now that a few days have passed, I don’t feel so bad about the audition. I certainly don’t feel like did that night: positive that I won’t get in to this school. It’s completely up in the air and I have no idea what the outcome will be, but at least I’m feeling proud of the work I did. Plus, I called my friend who goes to that particular conservatory and he said that the man who watched my monologue is one of the scariest, harshest teachers they have. Most of all, I’m just glad that the first audition is over with, because I had no idea what to expect (and that was the scariest thing of all). Now, I’m just trying to put it out of my mind until April and keep my hopes up for the next one, which happens in a few weeks. One down, three to go. Keep your fingers crossed.
P.S. For any performers out there, I’m currently in that crazy stage that happens after the audition: you lie in bed a night and pick apart every tiny thing that happened, every look they gave you, every time someone said hello. It’s super nerve-wracking but, in the weirdest way, it’s sort of fun.
First audition done, (5)
And an adventure it was. (7)
But will it end well? (5)