Any Moment Big or Small Is a Moment After All

I had an audition this week that was for something pretty big, in the grand scheme of things (and completely insignificant in the GRAND scheme of things, but if we're going to think that way, we might as well just give up on blogs altogether. Also maybe on our lives.). One of those rare auditions that you're like, 'Oh, wow, I'm auditioning here! Someone that I know is going to see me! This could really change my career and this could really change my life and this could really change my self'.

And that's pretty terrifying and enough to make you shit pure liquid out your pants, but as I was waiting in the hallway to go in I had this weird kind of peaceful thought:

'Welp. At least I can say I did this'.

And the audition itself kind of became the story and I pictured myself telling it to someone at some point, that I had auditioned there, in the same way that maybe I'd tell someone I once stood at Four Corners, and like how excited I get when people tell me that one time they met Madonna or ate octopus or saw the Northern Lights, someone would hear me say that I had once been there and go, 'Wow!'

If a career in theatre can be enough in those moments, if the mere fact that I would try and fail, and show up was enough, it would be incredible and I would be so satisfied and happy. I think. If as far as I got could still be amazing, even if I never got paid to do it and never made it to Stratford or Broadway or even onto another stage again, that would be something, and maybe I would be more grateful and peaceful and probably eat fewer carbs.

I don't think there's a lot of hope for me moving forward in this, so I'm trying to hold on to that feeling. I feel lucky to be seen and I'm glad I got to go in and I did something, and I think I did it ok, and maybe what I did was too weird and immature and maybe I'm too weird and immature, so maybe it just isn't a good fit anyway, and let's just be happy for the moments that we did have together. But there's this ominous feeling of 'what's next' and the worry about that and the fear of that feeling of rejection, knowing how I will feel even though I'll try so hard not to, and ick.

In the meantime I'm overhauling a play and I'm finding the slaughter of my babies to be depressing and thrilling all at once.