Holy Shit

Holy shit. What just happened with that audition? First there was the jerk that asked if I’d gotten the (name of cable network inserted here) call back – because he did! Congratulations Mr. Lucky Pants! No I didn’t say that. What I did say, with what I’m certain was a tone of red hot embarrassment in my voice was, ‘No, I did not. Thanks a lot fuck-o!’ No, I didn’t say that either. Okay, just the fuck-o part. And then I listened to him go on about his call back. That was lots of fun. Then the casting director comes out and screams ‘HI HONEY!’ to the other girl waiting to audition and they scream and giggle about a shoot the girl just wrapped for an hour. AND we're auditioning TOGETHER! Me and the super petite, perfectly coiffed and made up, blond gift basket of a girl. OMG guys! This’ll be fun!

Kill me now. Seriously just do it. After I shove this massive burrito in my face to make the pain go away. HA! It’s funny because it’s true!!!

What is it with me? Am I antisocial, do I hate people? Because every time I get in an uncomfortable moment like that my entire being screams ‘GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!’ I can look at this two ways: 1) trying really hard to see any humor or good that can come from this experience 2) evaluating my entire ten year stretch in NYC based on this one audition for a hosting spot on a webisode . Of course the healthy choice would be #1, but I don’t know you guys, #2 is pretty tempting!

Let's just put it this way. I was competent and then at the last moment something in me said 'fuck it' and I totally bombed. If I’m completely honest with myself – I wasn’t interested in this audition. I studied the sides but I wasn’t invested. So I wasn’t able to sell it, which is the problem. Because I am an artist and so, I feel really super-duper fake when I walk into a commercial audition and it’s apparent that it’s not even remotely about the copy, but about the hard sell. Which is important, don't get me wrong. The American Marketplace could use a little hard selling right now. Some people are great at this and they are making a lot more money than I am, but I just can’t bring myself to go there. I wish I could. Otherwise I’d buy a Coke to go with this burrito. Okay, kill me now. No seriously - because a suit just walked by my cubicle and asked me when I’m gonna become permanent and told me I need my own name plate. LOL!!!

My Inner Sisyphus

Have you ever been surprised by yourself, but not in a good way? Lately I've been giving myself a hard time, and I need to turn my ship around. So I'm gonna break it down and take a bit of advice that my lovely friend Eliza gave me a few days ago. We were talking about her big move to L.A.. She was encouraging me to think about L.A. as a possibility (so many more opportunities!) and I was expressing my deathly fear of doing so. I said something to the effect of - 'I don't know, I just don't feel like I feel right. I need to be more well adjusted and I need to feel good about myself' and then she said what I knew she would say as soon as the words came out of my mouth - 'You can't wait for that because you'll never feel 100% rightor good.' And of course, she's right. When you are afraid of something, everything becomes a battle on the level of sisyphus pushing that damn boulder up the mountain. Sometimes life requires a little danger and daring. Or at least faking it 'til you make it.

I've decided I will set aside a week in February to 'dip my toes in L.A.'. The prospect is looming over me like a cloud. Or a boulder. I keep thinking of all the reasons not to go - my lack of connections, my fear of L.A. driving, my fear of rejction, my age, and just not feeling right or good about myself. Maybe I will have an anxiety attack just as I'm about to sit down for a meeting. Maybe I'll do nothing when I'm out there and end up roaming the aisles of a giant super market at three a.m. stuffing my face with ho-ho's and ding dongs and regretting my choice of tasty snack-cake treat because of the bad aftertaste and film of arificial fat coating the roof of my mouth. But the worst thing - really, would be not to go at all.