Well, the audition was horrible. To start off, I was late getting out of work and therefore late to my audition. The gal had just sent the next person in in my place. So as if I wasn’t frayed enough already, I now looked irresponsible to boot.
When I finally went it, the room seemed as big as a football stadium. And very white. White, with a big black grand piano and a slight man in the middle of it. I have always been utterly terrified of him. I don’t know why, as he’s very nice. But I was literally quaking, head to toe. When I went to hand him my papers, you could hear them rattle dryly against each other in my unsteady hand.
He took them, sat down, and we started my song. My knees didn’t exactly hit each other under my skirt, but I could feel every single muscle in my body quivering. And I couldn’t catch my breath. And for a singing audition, that is a very very bad thing. Despite all the practicing I’ve been doing, besides feeling pretty comfortable with my piece, I breathily squeaked it out at a fraction of my usual power and volume. It was utterly humiliating.
He did some vocalizations with me afterwards, which went a little bit better. And then we chatted a bit, just about my job and such. Then he told me they’d be in touch. And then it was over.
I went outside and promptly dissolved into sobbing. I sat down under a crepe myrtle in front of the Methodist church’s pumpkin patch and cried and cried and cried for about half an hour. I managed to call my mom, who came to get me. She convinced me to go back in there and ask to reaudition at a later time. I don’t know how, but I did it. It added in spades to the humiliation, but at least I now feel I did what I could to remedy the awfulness that was my self-presentation. So far, no word back yet.
Mom took me to Trudy’s for dinner where I quickly downed a Mexican martini and refused to feel guilty about the beef fajita tacos or the brownie sundae (at least we split the dessert). Then I drove myself home to wait for Stv to appear, which didn’t happen until about ten-thirty. I cried and knitted the whole time. I was still teary this morning, but by midday I was feeling mostly recovered.
As the icing on a particularly rotten cake, I was so wrung out that I failed to do my writing last night. So with only a week to go in my commitment to do 301 words a day, I stumbled. I can no longer hold my head up and say I accomplished that goal.
And thanks to the Mexican food I’m about a pound heavier today.
NEAT.
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