Auditioning tends to be a daunting process. You show up, caked with makeup, wearing your best, ready to show who you are and shine out within your incredibly short time slots and crowded cattle calls. It is a laughable process, honestly...constantly trying to prove yourself, all while being as natural, charming, and on-pitch as possible.
via gifsoup.com
So after a recent audition, I decided to compose this brutally truthful, yet humorous poem about what is really happening in the mind of seemingly cool, calm, and collected auditioner number 17 with the spaghetti strap leotard and curly red hair.
"Maybe This Time I'll Win?"
I chug some tea
with honey…
That coats your throat,
Right?
No. It burns when you chug it, idiot.
I pull out my handy dandy notebook:
Headshot
Check
Resume
Check
Sheet music
Check
Smile!?! ;-)
Oh my god, I hate myself… check…
Extra mesh shirt in case I want to be super obvious about desperately wanting this part
I won’t ACTUALLY wear it… but check
Every pair of dance shoes I own
There’s always the chance they might be doing "Cell Block Tango" as a pointe piece with a hip hop dance break and a tap finale…wouldn’t want to be underprepared…check
And All That Jazz… Haha get it?!
Wow I'm never writing another list in my life.
After belting "Maybe This Time"
14 times,
almost rear-ending the
Prius in front of me,
and stalling with a
drawn-out search
for the perfect
protein bar
at 7-11,
I arrive to the theatre,
45 minutes early.
I slouch in my car,
pretending to occupy myself.
The children outside are watching me…I just know it.
I cake extra foundation on
to my already
over-painted face,
untangle the straps of my risqué,
lace bralette,
and call every single person
in my contacts list.
Twice.
When the clock strikes
still-too-early o’clock,
I pray to the Fosse gods,
grab my book,
my overstuffed bag,
and my leftover dignity,
and prance,
hesitantly,
into the theatre.
I conquer the audition form,
writing my e-mail address
on the line reading
“home address”
In pen.
Thank the big guy upstairs for squiggly lines…Am I right?!
The large man with the clipboard
calls my name.
He’s got a clipboard,
so naturally I follow,
sheet music in tow.
HELLO.
I’M KAYLENE.
IT’S SO NICE TO MEET YOU.
*cue awkward wave from two feet away*
I’M GOING TO BE SINGING
"MAYBE THIS TIME" FOR YOU.
TODAY.
NOW, ACTUALLY.
HA HA.
The director raises his eyebrow and says,
“good choice.”
I exhale.
Piano intro
Maybe this time
Stop moving, don’t fidget, wow my hands are sweaty
I’ll be lucky
This light sure is shining right in my face…
Maybe this time he’ll stay
What am I doing, where is my focus, who am I talking to... Oh no. It’s over. I’m not winning this time…
Well I am in such a state of shock
I completely black out.
It is not until I am
reading the sides in my hands
I even know
I've been called back.
(If you got that reference, go you.)
I read my scenes with
An older woman,
quickly realizing
she hasn't
looked at them.
“Ok. Great! We’ll have you stay for the dance call as well!”
I take a breath and think,
this is my time.
I strap on my worn-out
LaDucas,
hike up my leotard,
and book it.
via buzzfeed.com
