Wednesday, 18 February 2015

The Liar, The Bitch And The Wardrobe

I think it was my grades. 
I’m not sure, but that feels about right. 
I remember gripping the seatbelt strap, which was the only thing reminding me jumping out of a car, should be given a second thought. Trapped in a vehicle with a disgruntled parent can make you dream impossible dreams, like surviving a car door roll out. 

My mother was not happy about my grades.

I was not happy she was expressing it.

My mother was frustrated that I didn’t care.

I didn’t care.

The following is what you get when you shout “What are you going to do with your life!?” at a seventh grader.

“I can sing! I can dance! I can act! I can write! I’m a triple threat, I can do anything!”

I meant what I said. 
I believed what I said. 

My mother scoffed at it. 

In my 29 years of life, maybe only a couple handfuls of people scoffed at my beliefs. The rest saw something in me,
that they couldn’t quite put their finger on. Whatever those people saw, I saw it too. But I ignored it. 


As I stared down the line of hopeful females, I was thinking to myself “How am I not even scared?” When I had sent the email to the casting director, I told them :

“I can sing! I can dance! I can act! I can write! I’m a triple threat, I can do anything!”

They believed me.

I had been job hunting for over a year, and when I couldn’t find something in my field, I went in the opposite direction, something not in my field. But when that didn’t work either... I said FUCK IT! And began to chase that certain something that no one could quite put their finger on. That same certain something I ignored for so many years. 

I could sorta sing. I loved to dance. The last time I had acted, was in high school and I wrote journals. 

But lie or no lie, I got the audition.  
The same audition that over a hundred other chicks got and showed up for. They were all so beautiful, nervous and prepared.

As the rain began to fall over our heads, I could hear the hum of panic in the sea of songstresses. 
“You have got to be kidding me!” One girl said as she protected her hair with sheet music.
“Rain!? Really!? You’d think these directors would let us inside by now!” Said another as she scrambled to find her hoodie. 
Now they were all so beautiful, nervous, prepared and wet.
And there I was, the odd chick out, loving the rain drops, frizzy haired, unprepared, cool as a cucumber, still thinking to myself “How am I not even scared?”


Thanks to the bitch standing behind me, I learnt that I wasn’t attending just any regular audition, I was at an open call audition, meaning as long as you booked an audition with the casting people, you were in. Which explained why the hundreds of women, grew to be way more then that. 

One female leading roll, up for grabs.
One thousand-ish females hoping to grab it.
“I hate when they do open call auditions. It’s such a waste of time for everyone and it takes forever.”
“I know! They always end up casting us experienced actors anyways, and then you feel bad when all the wannabes start crying cause they didn’t get the part.”
“I know, it totally sucks but...this is a big time show right, so you can’t expect them to cast someone with no experience whatsoever.”
You can.
That’s why it’s called “open call auditions.”

I had never been in a “big time show.” I knew nothing of musical theatre, except that I loved it. But I knew a bitch when I saw one. It was quite clear that the two people having that conversation:
  • had clearly been trying to get under the skin of anyone in ear shot.
  • had been in numerous productions, because that’s all they talked about.
  • had no idea what shit attitudes they had.
Waiting in line, I met Lesley. Lesley had just moved to Toronto to become an actress. Lesley was beautiful, nervous and totally prepared and I sure as shit didn’t want her to get discouraged by the assholes behind us. She had come all that way, and I wanted her to know, she made the right choice. Not many people take chances like Lesley and I, but many people will knock you for it.

I no longer gave a rats ass about my audition. I just wanted Lesley to have the support that someone as brave as her deserved. I made her laugh, I shared my food with her, I asked her questions about her hometown, I gave her the rundown on Toronto and all the awesomeness my city had to offer a twenty-something year old like her. Lesley and I were having such a great time waiting in line, that when I glanced over at the asshole twins, they were already looking at me. Much to their dismay, our spirits were not broken by their “can everyone hear us as we indirectly talk to all of you?” style of conversation. I even detected a hint of jealousy, that Lesley and I found solace in one another. 


The song I chose to sing was from The South Park Movie. 
The shirt I chose to wear had bleach stains on it. 
The skirt I had on was louder then the notes those chicks were hitting.
But I showed up as me.

The song the other girls chose to sing, were classics
The outfits the other girls chose to wear were clean.
The reason we were all there was a long shot.
But I had nothing to lose.

The ruffle of scripts being flipped, and the sound of vocal chords being warmed, and the click clack of high heels, was enough to throw anyone off their game. But the waiting room was packed with eyes that were solely on the prize. 

I sang my little heart out that day. And although my bleach stains might have been somewhat of a distraction  for the casting crew, I had nothing else to wear. Irrelevant of why. And to be quite honest, I wasn’t there to impress or to get the part. I was there to do something brave. I had to remind myself who I was, after being told who I wasn’t for so many years. It was nice to be around a thousand chicks, who were all doing the same.

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