Audition #1.

"I was so stellar, they didn't even need to have me read."

You gotta learn to just let it roll off you. Today was my first audition in New York, a thrilling debut to the professional world slash return from the hiatus started at the end of college a whole year ago.

One thing cool I notice about growing up here is that you get to ride the subway with your friends. I guess it’s like riding the bus with your friends, except it’s still cool when you’re doing it in high school. Anyway I’m standing there staring at the reflection of these two guys who I guess are having some argument. The ratty jacket-wearing reflection on the left is accusing the other of “startin’ [stuff]” while the young other in glasses stays silent and keeps his glance away. But this doesn’t stop our boisterous passenger from cussing him out for another six stops (15 minutes). Halfway-through I manage to sit down across them and notice the belligerent man is wearing a lanyard with an I.D. attached to it identifying him as a biomedical engineer or something. Man, all those brains and he still reps Long Island like a thug. Intimidation comes in all shapes and intellects here I guess.

A look at the time causes me to dart down the street hoping 10 minutes in isn’t too late to join the morning Tai Chi class. Turns out it is, because Wednesday is too late to join. And too early to join as well. The class is on Tuesdays & Thursdays, and I’m in Bryant Park at 7:40am with nothing to do. 

 


With the audition later I decide to make the most of my morning, and pick up some overpriced breakfast at a local café to eat amidst the beautiful park-in-city view.

One overlooked task awaits me before my time slot that afternoon, which is after I’ve changed and prepped for the performance (gotta treat it like one): the headshot & resume. My manager was telling me all about how often she sends them digitally now I hadn’t asked if I would need them for this one. After being reminded by my fellow auditionee I bolt out the audition studio to the local FedExKinko’s with an hour to spare. When I say bolt, I mean figure the stairs is faster and, unaware I’m on the top floor penthouse, slowly shuffle down 12 flights. The sweater I paid too much for so I could impress the auditioners is apparently now joining forces with the sudden humidity, making me sweat. That makes me nervous, which also makes me sweat. Print out a makeshift headshot and an old draft of my resume (the only one I had with me), and then on my way back past taxis and tourists to the audition studio where I’m right on time.

3 minutes later and I’m exiting, savvy to the unflattering verdict. So goes the grind, and I’m content with it. But as one of my acting teachers taught me, no matter what happens after the audition, treat yourself to something nice. And I do. A couple times (including the breakfast splurge). After stopping by the printing office to approve of my actual headshot prints, I visit the adjacent bakery and buy awfully overpriced desserts on sale -- so only slightly overpriced -- at $3 for two very small, very delicious min-tarts, then wait at the park for an hour to catch Baskin Robbins’ $1 scoop Wednesdays, of which I get two, finishing it off by stopping at the market to buy chips and soda to eat with my pizza leftovers. It seems the decadence has only turned my contentment into nausea, which I self-medicate with a 3 hour nap. It’s midnight and I don’t feel that much better. Melody shows me Psalm 62:8, which sobers me up.

"Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your heart before Him;
God is a refuge for us. Selah"

I asked God earlier today the same thing I ask Him before every audition. I ask him to attune my heart to His will, and reveal His plan to me. Win or lose, hire or reject, my priority is to know what God wants me to do about that. And let me tell you, the answer isn’t $20 on snacks and sweets. As much I had told myself to be content, I'm only human and we simply don't like rejection. Rising above that just isn't as easy as we want it to be. In those times, our own devices, trinkets and troubleshooting alike, are no substitute for giving our feelings to God. Having faith in God's plan is more than positive thinking, it's more than optimism, it's an utter surrender of yourself. I had only been handing my sorrow to Him, when the verse demands I "pour out [my] heart" to Him. What a drastic difference in response. God is a refuge for me, and today I felt Him calling me home.



Audition for "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee," for a Florida production group (...so not Broadway).