Out here in audition-land, yesterday I went to the open call for Prather Entertainment Group, who do the casting for several large dinner theatres and regional theatres across the country as well as national tour producing, and an appointment for a new musical based on the music of Lady Gaga entitled Lives on the Edge.
Prather Logo looking all official and shit. Not at all intimidating.
Gaga frankly also looking a little intimdating. Am I the only person who thinks that meeting her in person might be terrifying? Like pretty cool, I guess, but also most likely terrifying.
The Prather open call proved to me that last week's good luck was short lived; I arrived at 8 am to find myself number 113 on the list. Not horrible, but also not great. Womp womp. Sat around, drank my coffee, ate my egg&cheese on an English muffin (whoops), read my book (finished The Hunger Games triology for the second time... I really need to re-read less and first time read more), and when they announced they expected to get through 40 people an hour, I decided around 10:15 that I might as well leave for my 11 am appointment.
I mosey over from Chelsea Studios to DANY Studios for my Lives on the Edge appointment, at which they'd like us to dance first.
For those of you in the know, I reeeeeally dislike that. It's not that I can't dance. It's not even that I'm not a good dancer. But I'm not a fast learner of choreography and that tends to be my downfall in an audition setting. Plus I get all in my own head about not being a "dancer" and no matter what I try to think my face just reads "oh god please tell me I'm getting all of this right and look semi-competant." Plus like dancers in their real dance clothes (okay yes, I own those) and LaDucas just intimidate me.
LaDuca character shoes, aka the musical theatre world's answer to the red soul on a Christian Louboutin. Ah, one day.
Anyway. The choreography wasn't so difficult (as the choreographer/director pointed out, if he could do it in skinny jeans we ought to have no problem) and it was to a song of Gaga's I legitimately enjoy (I have a complicated relationship to her music... in that some songs I like and am ashamed to like, some songs I unabashedly love, and some I just don't get and think are horrible and the general population seems to adore). I learned quickly by lurking through my group of 10 that we represent a myriad of skill levels, which also mellows out my dance jitteriness.
We get through it, it goes as well as can be expected, and then out of those 10, they kept 7 people. Note that I don't say "of us." Yes, dear readers, I was among the only 30% not kept. And as I watched who they did keep, there were DEFINITELY people I was better than. Womp womp.
I walked out feeling cranky and unsettled and just generally put out when I realized something... I was pissed off to have not gotten a callback. Duh, right? But hear me out. The last two weeks have been so much more about getting back on the audition wagon that the outcomes have been less important to me than the act of actually doing the auditions. My disappointment, in it's way, was refreshing - and frankly sort of a relief - because I'm starting to get over the hump and actually, you know, start really caring again.
Went back to Prather and learned that though they were collecting headshots for my group, they weren't going to see us after lunch. Genius that I am, I had left my keys at home so I returned home for a snack and a bitching session with my roommate. Went back to Prather and remembered why I shouldn't on a whim decide to sing songs in my book that I don't usually do, and was unsurprisingly not called back there either. Again. I was pissed on my way home... I was pissed all the way from 27th and 7th to 47th and 9th until it dawned on me that this should be a productive emotion. Yeah. I'm pissed off. But it means all I want to do is do better. And in a way, that's a comforting thing to know.
I didn't exactly succeed at that today, though. When my alarm went off at 7 am for the Disney Cruise Line call it just wasn't happening. I didn't sleep well and I turned my alarm off like a zombie before I even really knew what I was doing. It happens. I think they call that listening to your body. But I was in the gym by 10 am (and knocked out 5 miles between the treadmill and the elliptical) and had cleaned my whole apartment by 2:30, so we can't call today a total loss.
Tomorrow is a new day: Cabaret time at Westchester Sandbox Theatre. That disappointment thing sucks, so let's go rock it out.
I'm channeling my inner Sally Bowles as we speak. Watch out, y'all.