So I’ve been trying to figure out what I might end up doing as my next show, now that I’ve decided to prioritize hobbies theatrical over hobbies choral in my life. Reading audition notices, calculating estimate commuting times from home and work to rehearsal/performance sites, and so on.
I also did one audition last weekend.
It was for another Sondheim show (what can I say? my fan-girling for Stephen runs deep). Not Into the Woods, but similar in that every role has its own featured moments and there’s no chorus, per se. In other words, another one where you either make the cut to get a “real” part or you don’t make the cut at all.
Since I actually had some time to prepare for this audition, that’s exactly what I did. I thought through what an appropriate audition song might be, learned it, rehearsed it. The whole nine yards.
And even though I am not so egotistical to assume I’d be cast in the show, I have to admit now, in retrospect, that I was egotistical enough to assume I’d make it to callbacks, even if no further than that. The depth of my disappointed surprise, when the evening for callback invitations came and went and my inbox remained empty, tells the tale of that ego-self and its level of attachment and expectation.
(And of course, there still remains a hypothetical possibility that I’m still in the running. It’s not like I’ve received an official kiss-off notice, but I think the crickets speak for themselves.)
It’s been an interesting ride, feeling the sadness of rejection, and then bearing witness to all the different conclusions and stories my identities want to attach to this event.
Maybe I’m just too much of a mediocre talent to ever get cast in anything. Maybe I’m talented enough on an objective sense, but I’m never going to really fit into a cast or a show.
Last time I knew I’d failed the audition–what does it mean that this time I so fully overestimated how well I’d done? What if I don’t actually have the kind of clear self-vision to be able to improve my craft?
Maybe I should just embrace the fact that I’m never going to be good enough to be onstage and should embrace my role in the shadows.
Astonishing, how quick that globalization occurs, making up an eternal destiny for myself out of a momentary event.
So I felt sad, and whined a little, and reminded myself about the fundamental level of trust I carry that my life is on path and on mission no matter what unexpected moments occur.
I’ll admit, that kind of resilience is easier to summon when I have so many aspects of my daily life that I sincerely, legitimately find joy in. Including a couple other possibilities to be involved in theatre this summer.
So, more to unfold in days and weeks to come.
Or in minutes.
Then there was that time when even in the effort to be non-conclusive, I jumped to conclusions anyhow.
While I was writing this post–literally, while I was typing it–I got a belated invitation for callbacks. So yes, more to unfold.
Image credit: ‘Anything Goes’ at the Stephen Sondheim Theatre in New York City by OptimumPx. Unaltered. Public domain.
2 thoughts on “Reading the Silence”
Learning to accept rejection and not take it personally is one of the hardest lessons to learn. Glad you got a call back; remember to practice allowing rejection to mean “not right for now.” I’ve spent so many years/times/etc etc with rejections–and I’m a professional actor and a professional writer. And still the rejections come. It does become easier. Hang in there girl….there’s always another.
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