ARCHIVES
December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009 May 2009 June 2009 July 2009 August 2009 September 2009 October 2009 November 2009 February 2010 July 2010 August 2010 September 2010 October 2010 November 2010 December 2010 January 2011 February 2011 April 2011 June 2011 |
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Stage Starved I have just come from the worst audition of my life. I suppose the one I had when I was seventeen and couldn't act, sing or dance must have been worse, but as of late, I have never, ever had an audition go so horribly awry. It's not like it was a scheduling thing or even that I showed up late. It's not like my cold got so bad that I couldn't sing. Nothing 'went wrong', per se. There was, however, a dance component. 'Nuf said. Let it be known that I solemnly swear to never audition for musical theater again, until I, by some miracle, attain even the teeniest bit of rhythm. Or learn to memorize a series of dance steps in fifteen minutes. Come on! We had to do three whole counts of eight! THREE! Okay, so that's only about fifteen seconds of dancing, but this isn't you're-drunk-at-the-club-and-no-one-notices-anyway kind of dancing. This is you've got a choreographer teaching you complicated steps and digs and turns and ARM MOTIONS in front of a panel of production crew. Not. Cool. I'm not really sure how I looked when I was danc- erm, TRYING to dance, but it couldn't have been pretty. I bet they sure are glad they videotaped the auditions so they can watch me embarrass myself again and again and ...again. For three whole counts of eight. I thought I'd try to break into the musical theater thing because it's awesomely fun, but seeing that I just started singing again and I can't dance to save my life (or, audition in this case) I think I'll stick to regular theater from now on. Speaking of which, I did ace my audition last week. I aced it so good that I ran into the producer the next day and she raved about me and how talented I was and how I was the best one and that I should definitely pursue acting because OMG I'M SO GOOD AT IT. It didn't go quite like that, but it sure was nice to know that I've got 'a fan of my work' out there (hee, I've always wanted to say that). So yes, she loved me and they loved me a lot. Except I couldn't be cast. Because my schedule didn't fit into theirs! Hmm! That sounds familiar! Like that time I got a role in a movie and my schedule didn't fit into theirs so I didn't get to film it! Baaahhhhh. Alright, so it's not like I didn't get the part because I suck, but I don't understand how people can cast a show based on scheduling rather than talent. I'm dyyying over here. I don't want to do crappy amateur plays anymore, I want to do real things with real plays and actors who mean it! My god, can someone PLEASE just let me ACT? Just let me on a damn stage for crying out loud! I might just never get off. |