Those of you who read my previous blog will remember my
howling about under the Blue Moon last Friday night and expelling from myself “embarrassing”
truths, all my truths, in an effort to own them, to be bigger, and to “let go of
being small.” You will remember my
feeling of exhilaration and self-ownership and silliness. You will remember my expression of
accomplishment, a mature releasing of old patterns, a sense that from here on
out, I will not shrink in the ownership and embodiment of my truths. **insert Xena Warrior Cry**
Therefore, it would come to you, as it did to me, as a
complete disillusion as I drove home from an audition two days later in
near-tears in reaction to the obviousness of my total and utter diminishment of
self. **insert the raspberry sound of a balloon deflating**
I thought we’d fixed this, Moon/Universe/Life? WTF.
When one enters an audition room, one must go in with a confident
demeanor. One must own the room. Pull focus.
Be big. And yet, as soon as I opened
the door on Sunday and walked down the aisle into the theater before the auditors, I
could feel the shrinking coming over me like a storm-threatened cloud,
obscuring myself, my truth, and therefore my voice.
I didn’t bomb the audition – I know what that feels and
looks like! – but I didn’t do well. I felt insecure about whether I could move
out of the light that was on the stage in order to do my monologue and song (Do
I have to stand in this one spot??). I
felt insecure about the movements I had recently added to my song (Is this
totally cheesey, maybe I shouldn’t do them?). I felt insecure about the delivery of my
monologue, having rehearsed it one way but a recent audition asked me to
deliver it smaller to match that
character (But, shit, Hair isn’t a
small show – this isn’t the right delivery!)
I barely said hello to the auditors when I walked in, I was
so overcome with nerves and fright. And
I barely said goodbye as I left. What an
impression for an actor to make, eh?
I knew immediately, no matter the outcome of the audition, that this was unacceptable to me – this was SO OLD, this habit of shrinking and
being small. I mean, why do you think I
banged a damn tambourine at midnight to get rid of it!!
I drove home, went straight to a room of like-minded women and cried really hard about how powerless I felt over this knee-jerk
reaction to being seen. About how awful
it felt to become such a shadow of who I truly am – and of who I am onstage when I’m not
in auditions, when I’m actually acting and cast.
The next morning, in a funk and emotional hangover, feeling
numb and reeling from my abandonment of self, I took some pointed action.
I called one of my good friends who's an actress of many
years, and said, “I think I need an audition coach. Who can you recommend?”
Because although the habit of shrinking is based on
internal beliefs of self and need to be worked out on an emotional and
spiritual plane, that doesn’t mean that I just sit in meditation and hope it
fixes itself! That doesn’t mean that I
shake a tambourine at it and believe it will just be relieved. It also
means that I must take action in the practical reality realm to help alleviate
myself of these habits that are causing me pain and sincere distress.
Therefore, the highest recommendation for an audition coach
in hand (and now with a salary that can support these efforts), I have an
audition coach. As I said to her on the
phone for our consultation, I need to stop feeling embarrassed to say, "I want to
be an actress." Because that shame is part of
what keeps me from really committing to it.
Part of what makes me only cram for auditions the week before they
happen, scrambling to find a “good” monologue, emailing people two days before
my audition saying, "I don’t think this song is right, what should I do?," calling up my vocal coach
in need of an emergency lesson.
If you (ahem, I) really want to be an actress, I have to
admit that to myself most of all, and to the world/others by taking the actions
someone who wants to be an actress would take.
As with the other truths I shouted under the moonlight last Friday, I need
to begin to own them aloud if I am to achieve them.
As I further said to my new audition coach: Look, I don’t even know what kind of actress
I am. If I’m a mediocre actress, then I
want to know that, and I want to be
the best goddamn mediocre actress I can be.
If I’m meant for ensemble roles, then I want to kick the hell out of
them. And if I’m meant for other roles,
then I am ready to accept the help and do the work that it takes to get those. I have no idea where I am on the scale,
because I’ve never fully given myself over to embracing my passion
and truth. And because my mirror (like
many other people’s) is clouded with self-doubt and self-judgment.
So, come, professional helpers, and help me see what I can’t
see. Help me admit what I cringe to admit, “embarrassing” (silly, inconsequential, flighty and ridiculous)
as my fear tells me it is:
I want to be an actress.
And I want to be the best goddamn actress I can be.
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