Take Another Little Piece of My Heart

And so it is over. And I miss my surrogate family something terrible.

I do so want to write something tremendous...something that will do justice to the joy I have known these past brief weeks...and to the turmoil I feel now. But I fear the right words will not come. There were tears on my pillow last night as the faces of the children passed through my thoughts...the eyes and the smiles and the pouts and the braids and the hugs. Ah the hugs. The hugs will be most sorely missed. I dreamed of my favorite children last night. I've told each of them that they are my favorite...so that is all that need be said about the dream.

Perhaps a highlighting of some favorite moments will suffice:

• On opening night, we had a party afterwards that all in attendance were invited to attend. While chatting with Jim and his lovely wife Kelly, our youngest cast member was passing by. I patted him on the head and asked if he had had fun on this, his first opening night. He looked up at me with his giant bespectacled eyes and said, "I must be very popular because this is the seventh person to hold an interview with me tonight." He's eight.

• During a final dress rehearsal, Justin, our resident 10 year old attention monger, glanced at me while patting his checkered wool jacket. "Does this coat make me look fat?" He asked. This led to me periodically referring to his (non-existent) obesity...which he took in stride. On the last day of the show, I made a final remark about his mighty fatness to which he replied in feigned outrage: "Don't even go there with me! I lost 5 pounds for you!"

• After the final curtain, when tears and hugs and final photo ops were rampant. My eldest daughter, Ali, hugged me tightly and said, "You're the only old person I know who's cool."

• I love doing exaggerating my already prolific dorky tendencies with kids. Somehow being ultra nerdy seems to endear me to them. When signing in before a show, I wrote, "Check it, yo," in the space by my name. Later, when Brianna (15) was signing in, Alycia (17) was standing behind her and read, "Check it, yo," out loud. Brianna looked at her strangely and shrugged and then checked Alycia in. As if Alycia would ever talk so ghetto. Alycia laughed about that for a long time.

• As inevitable back stage romances started to bloom, theories abounded regarding some potential plot twists. On the last day, Ali showed up with a nine page sequel she had written the night before. Between the shows that day, we were all given a copy and trooped up to the stage to perform it. No one had read it in advance, so the plot twists were made known to all the moment they escaped our lips. It was glorious. I am still in utter awe of what she was able to come up with in one night.

There are so many more moments...many more poignant...many more subtle...but all so precious and not to be forgotten.

Snow Makes For Bad Traffic

Call is at 6:00 PM. The show starts at 7:00 PM. At 6:30 PM I was just merging onto 694 from 100 (as .5 mph), a good 20 minutes from the Theater...when there is NO traffic. I was screaming a lot, and weeping a little, and then praying a lot...begging the Lord who is sovereign over all - including traffic and weather - to PLEASE get me to the theater before 7. He did get me there before 7...about a minute before 7, but before 7 nonetheless. And I ran the block to the theater from where I was parked, in the snow (beautiful snow under other circumstances, but dirty, rotten, stinking, vile snow at the time), slid in the door, and promptly fell down the stairs. But I arose gloriously unscathed and, at a more gingerly pace, maneuvered my way to the dressing room where my darling family greeted me with hugs and smiles and cheers and love.

Most of the girls left the dressing room to give me space to get ready, but I asked a couple of them to stay and have a conversation in the corner to distract me from my shaking hands...and they did and I loved them for it. I managed to get my costume on and make-up and hair done in a miraculous 15 minutes, and so the curtain went up at 7:15 PM.

This was all last night (Friday night). Opening night was on Thursday, thankfully, and was absolutely spectacular. In my humble opinion. We were energized and excited and the show went really, really well. Friday night's show lacked some of that opening night magic. We missed a few lines, but covered them really well. I think the "off" bits were definitely noticed more by the cast than by the audience...at least, that is my hope. Afterwards, a couple of the girls were saying that typically, the second night of a run is the worst. So we delighted in the fact that we now have nowhere to go but up. I think it's probably good to have a little bit of an awkward performance (though not ideal by any means), to remind us that we can't stop trying and focusing and working...that the show wont perform itself...we have to invest ourselves fully in every performance. The actors carry the show...the show cannot carry the actors.

Preview Night

We had our first "audience" tonight. It consisted of about 16 people. They were pretty mellow. Still, I'm really glad we had those 16 devoted friends and family there to test our masterpiece on. If the other guests are anything like my beloved guest was, then many of us have been duly showered with praise and will go out on opening night ready to take on the world.

By Sunday night, I will have spent every evening of an entire week with my imaginary family in our imaginary world...and in the real world which (sometimes unfortunately) exists parallel to it. It's sort-of like living in my favorite kind of book - the kind where a separate and unfamiliar reality coexists right next door to the mundane. And I suppose, like all good stories, it is inevitable that this one will have to have an ending. At least, the imaginary part - the part that occurs on stage - will have to come to an end. But the reality of all the lives that have been mashed together will continue...and some of our lives will very possibly never be mashed together again. It's the one part of the theater that stinks.

I'm trying to wrap my brain around what life will look like when this is over. Even now, after weeks of rehearsing together, we grow closer and more familiar each time we are together. Claudia, our director, mentioned tonight how this group of kids is really phenomenal ... that there isn't the backstage drama that can so often accompany a cast of many children. I feel like we all just really like each other. When there are 12 women and girls all crammed into a tiny dressing room, there could be complete madness, but there isn't. Everyone is sharing tips on applying eyeliner and blush properly; everyone is zipping someone up, or braiding someones hair, or tying someones ribbons; there are inside jokes and encouragement and silliness and safety.

It's easy to forget that all these little girls and young women have lives outside our imaginary world that I know nothing about. I want to take care in every moment that I get with them to not waste foolish words or leave impressions of vanity and arrogance. I know from being 11 once, and then 13 and 15 and 17 that girls of any age really remember and carry through life some of the more cavalier words spoken by older women and I don't want to ever forget that. These are precious lives that mine is intermingled with for such a short time. It's a privilege not to be taken lightly.

Perfect Friend...Where is She Now?

I recently got a sweet blog visit from an anonymous stranger who said that she enjoys reading about my and Perfect Friend's adventures. Other friends and readers have asked about PF, and so it is about time that I provide an update as to her whereabouts and whatabouts.

Our mission to become professional auditioners has apparently served us well. Unfortunately, our grand success has kept us apart for far too long. I don't think we've seen each other for more than a few minutes since she and her hubby picked Dan and me up from the airport back in the first week of November. It seems so long ago that we were reading playing acting games with a Catherine monologue from The Foreigner script in preparation for our first ever "together" audition. While neither of us were cast in The Foreigner (although PF did get a callback ...as some may recall), we both felt a smug sense of satisfaction when we discovered who was cast, and thought "What the....??" I think that is fairly crummy of us, but it did make us feel better.

While I was enduring the waiting to hear if I would be cast in The Hanging of the Greens, PF spontaneously and entirely by her lonesome went to audition for a Christmas musical revue at the Woodbury Community Theater. She was called (on the way home from the audition, of course) and offered a part in the production. Apparently Perfect Friend doesn't have to wait more than 10 minutes to "hear" after an audition. Ironically, and somewhat tragically, our two shows both open tonight. We have realized that neither of us will have a chance to see the other's show, because we will both be performing at the same times over the next two weeks! The thought of that makes me smile as I write. I can't wait until tonight when I will be on stage and imagining PF on stage at the same time singing her perfect little heart out.

Let's Get Physical

So, tonight we had our first full on run-through sans scripts. It went amazingly well. From this point forward every rehearsal will be about polishing and perfecting. Although I have been missing my (real) husband in the evenings...a part of me is longing for Monday when I will be with my imaginary family again. I really miss them when we are apart...I know how temporary we are and I want to make the most of every second that we get to share.

When I first got rid of my script, I was made immediately aware of the fact that I have arms. And that they are inclined to hang uselessly at my sides or flail limply about if I try to force motion out of them. I remember Mrs. D in 5th grade telling us all about how awkward she felt as a teenager and how she was always confused as to what she should to with her arms. Yeah...I'm totally tracking with you, Mrs. D. Only I'm 32 and have had my arms for a good many years since being a teenager and to be honest, I haven't given them a whole lot of thought. But somehow on stage I find myself wishing that I were playing a character with two broken arms.

The physicality is starting to come. Part of it comes with the process of getting more comfortable with the rest of the cast. When a group of 22 strangers are brought together, there will naturally be a bit of reservation initially as it comes to touching each other. But as we all grow closer, that physical intimacy becomes more natural and we start behaving towards each other as a real family might. In fact, I can't think of a single one of my children who would shy away from a hug...they seem to love the affection...or maybe it's just me that loves their affection and I am grateful to them for hugging me back! However, there is another aspect of physicality that utterly eludes me and is my mission to conquer, or at least lay a strategy for, over this coming weekend. This is the physicality that involves my stupid arms when they aren't hugging a child. Argh. I just keep picturing myself holding my hands in front of me or gesturing lamely in some random direction. On stage, I know that gestures are supposed to be exaggerated...moving on stage is not the same as it is when sitting across from a friend at Starbucks.

There are people in our cast who are really remarkable when it comes to their physicality...I suppose a lot of it must come from years of experience on stage as well as just working on it between rehearsals; but even at the auditions, these people were physically so comfortable. There is a scene where Husband is telling his family a story that involves building a snow family and even at the first audition, he was brilliant at making the story so much more than just a spoken tale...he was able to make it an experience...which is what is needed for the stage. And Witchie, who I saw for the first time at the callback audition was instantly a PRESENCE. She was her character and she owned her space. This is just another glorious piece of the theater. There is so much I am (hopefully) able to learn from the other actors I get the honor of working with.

**as an absurd side note, i just ran spell check on this and for the first time in my life i spelled the word awkward right. i always think there is supposed to be a "c" in there. but i left it out this time. i made the right choice.

I Was an Eighth Grade Chorus Bunny

There were about 10 of us who had a little song and dance number in The Velveteen Rabbit. We thought it was ridiculous that we should have to be at every rehearsal when we already knew our number and we were hardly on stage at all, so I volunteered to approach Mr. Marvey about us wee bunnies having Friday night's rehearsal off. He was not receptive to my suggestion. "Maybe the rest of them might be able to take the night off, but YOU have a long way to go before you are at their level." Yup. That's what he said to me. It may not be an exact quote, (and Mr. Marvey isn't his exact name) but that is the gist of it. And that is one of my great fears...that I have somehow convinced myself I am phenomenal at something when all the while the powers that be are convulsing internally at my inadequacy.

I have waited too long to write. There is so much to talk about.

The Adult Rehearsal:
We had a rehearsal last week where only three of the adults were called (and one child, but she disappeared suddenly...I'm not sure where she vanished to). We were to start really thinking about and discussing the relationships between us. And that scared me a little. As the director was talking, I found myself daydreaming about what I would blog that night when I got home. My tentative title for the post was "Acting is Hard." I was secretly hoping that she would just tell us what our relationships were...but she likes to let us think and create and develop on our own. It's like she gave us birth and is willing to let us grow up into whatever we will become. If we get out of control, I have no doubt she will reign us in, but I have to say it is pretty impressive that she is willing to give us such freedom with the characters she created. I also have to say that it is really an interesting experience to find oneself in a 17 year or so marriage to someone they have never known before. It's ACTING! But it's hard. And it's wonderful. The relationships are starting to develop and become more and more natural as we all spend time together and get more comfortable with each other.

The Stumble Through:
Last Thursday we had our first rehearsal since the Read Through where the entire cast was there. We were going to stumble through the entire play for the first time. When we were getting into our places on stage, my first day of school butterflies started misbehaving. I was very nervous and felt suddenly very unprepared. It didn't help when Husband walked on stage for his first line with NO SCRIPT. Neighbor and I made our incompetent selves feel better during the break by harassing Husband mercilessly for losing his script. He had it with him for the last scene. I think he was just trying to make us feel better. Why do we do that? Why do we try to make people feel guilty for being successful and responsible? It isn't very nice. I think seeing that Husband had already managed to memorize his part was actually incredibly motivating, because at the next rehearsal, Neighbor and I were both (pretty much) off our scripts, too.

A Pile of Family

Tonight was my first actual "rehearsal" and it was absolutely wonderful. While getting into my car to drive home, I was overwhelmed by how much I love the theater. At one point during rehearsal, I found myself thinking "I don't want this night to end." I remember when I was a college student (for the three months that I went to college) and I had to write a paper for an English class...it was just after I had been in Auntie Mame...and I remember writing that I knew I wanted to act...that Acting alone would never make me happy, but without it, I would never be completely happy. Of course, at that time I didn't know Jesus...he was there of course, I just wasn't with him...and acting was the thing I latched onto as a piece of fulfillment. In the years between then and now I have come to a much greater understanding of "happiness" and yet, tonight I really remember the utter joy that I experience on stage.

The whole experience of playing a mother of seven is going to be amazing...I've said it before...but I love these kids...I just want to squeeze them all 'til they pop. It's fascinating to see how many of them appear to have been cast in roles that really fit their actual temperament. It is also bizarre being on stage with "my" seven children, and getting some glimpse of the challenges that an actual mother of many might face. It's really difficult to pay equal attention to all the children. I found myself wondering while driving home how easy it would be with so many siblings to feel like the odd one out, or like mom has a favorite, or how each child might come up with various tactics for earning attention and favor.

We have a fairly small space that makes up our stage "home" so we are very cozy. I was reminded of my aunt and uncle who have 5 kids and they all just love each other so much (though they might not always admit it). At Christmas, when there are well over 20 people crammed into my grandparents living room to open presents, their whole family can be found all piled up together between half of a couch and the floor underneath it. They aren't even aware that they do it...it's just so much more natural for them to be close than it is for them to seek to be apart. That is the kind of family I would like my imaginary family to be.

The Read Through

Tonight the cast of Hanging of the Greens read through the script together for the first time. It is really a great story!

I left Eden Prairie for White Bear Lake at about 5:45. Half way there, as I was happily singing along, my i-pod stopped working. Then the radio stopped working. Then the ABS light came on. Then I noticed the clock was dim around the edges. Then I called Dan. Not that he could do anything over the phone, but ever since our conversion van broke down in the middle lane of 694 (at night, while I was driving it, alone), I have severe vehicular anxiety whenever things start and/or stop glowing in inappropriate ways. He assured me that it would be fine, so I drove all the way to the theater. When I got there, I turned off the car and then decided to see what would happen if I tried to turn it back on. It didn't turn back on...or start up...or whatever it is that cars do. So I called Dan. And he came out to WBL to make it work while I went inside to rehearsal. During a little break, I went outside to discover that the car had started right up for him, but he left me his car and drove the devil car home. It's not really a devil car...I love that car - it has heated seats - but I do not want to be in it if it stops working at a stop light or on the freeway.

Okay, so that was fun. I sat outside in the car waiting for someone else to show up so I could follow them in through the right door. When I got inside, there were two sweet "mature" women there - they were there to take measurements for costumes! How fun is that! I hope the silly excitement over such apparently routine theater thingys never goes away for me. So, the costume lady came at me with her tape measure and started rattling off my measurements (for all to hear) while the other lady wrote them down. As others arrived, they had measurements taken and we all settled in around a long, long table to read the script.

I have seven children of my own - which means 14 names to learn - and those are just my children. There are 22 in the cast; which means 44 names, well, 42 actually as I am fairly certain of my own names. Somehow, I find this more daunting than memorizing my lines. I hope to have them down by the time I go to my next rehearsal on Wednesday. I LOVE these children...they are amazing and friendly and happy and smiley and I think they will be almost as fun to hang out with as my nieces are. And that's a lot of fun.

I was also pleasantly surprised to learn that I have a fairly big part. Having now read the whole script, I am even more honored at the director's confidence in me to pull it off...I am so excited about this! There is a wonderfully dramatic scene where I am determined to make every mother in the audience weep. There is also a section of the story where the witch's forest spirit slaves are seducing the children out of their home and away from safety that gave me chills as we read it...it was creepy and wonderful...I can't wait to see what it looks like.

Mother of Seven

At long last (long being just over 24 hours), the waiting is over. I am ecstatic and honored to have been cast as a pragmatic mother of seven. I am pausing right now in my writing to look up the word pragmatic.

pragmatic
adjective
1. concerned with practical matters; "a matter-of-fact (or pragmatic) approach to the problem"; "a matter-of-fact account of the trip" [syn: matter-of-fact]

Also:

2. Archaic
Active; busy.
Active in an officious or meddlesome way.
Dogmatic; dictatorial.

If allowed, I will go with definition 1 as I long for the children and the audience to ADORE me.

Yesterday, as previously mentioned , I tracked down the director's blog like some kind of insane stalker. She had noted that the casting was complete and added that she was heartbroken because "there was one talented young actress I tried to fit in and it just didn't work." I read that sentence and felt a sensation not unlike that of being punched in the gut, only it settled more in my teeth for some reason. Because my vanity demands that everything be somehow related to ME, I assumed that I was the "talented young actress" who would not be cast in the show. And as the minutes, and then hours, ticked on, I became increasingly certain of this fact. Of course, there was the word "young" that really should have silenced my screaming ego; that and the fact that in a play involving a cast of 16 or so children, it's possible that the children might actually be the ones referred to as young. But it was nice to console myself with the idea that if in fact those words had been written about me, I could rest easier knowing that the director found me both talented and young.

At about 9:30 that night, I looked at my cell phone. I hadn't heard it ring, though I had been checking it about every 5 minutes since leaving the callback the night before. It announced to me in glowing digital spledor that I had Voicemail. The message was that of the sweetest variety...a lovely woman spoke the glorious words: "....we'd like to offer you the part of Aleena..." I called back immediately to accept the role.

The Callback and the Waiting

Ugh. The great news is that I got a callback for the play I auditioned for on Monday. The bad news is that now I'm waiting. I hate waiting...

I found the blog of the woman who is the playwright and director for the show...and it appears that casting is complete. However, I have not heard a word. From her blog, I linked to the blog of a guy who auditioned the same night as I did and was also at callbacks. As of about 4 hours ago, he is still waiting to hear as well...and I KNOW he will be cast, so there is still hope. Regardless of the outcome, I'm glad to have found their blogs due to my obsessive impatience. I learned that I really like the director, and hope to have other opportunities to audition for her in the future. She is quite a prolific playwright of children's theater and seems to genuinely love working with kids. I also learned that I like that guy too...he is also a rather prolific playwright and talked about Genesis and Adam and the significance of being named as it relates to discovering who your next character will be.

The callback was once again an entirely new experience. This time, we were all in the room together and got to watch each other do scenes. I really like that set up - I think it adds an element of friendly competition that can be incredibly motivating. There were only two people that I recognized from the first audition...one was one of the cute girls who had given me the thumbs-up. We smiled at each other and said, "Hi." We were all given scripts and a schedule of how the evening would unfold. I saw that I would be reading for two characters, the witch (which would be the most FUN of course) and the mother of 6 (which would be ALMOST as fun). The first scene the director had us read was one with just the children. And then I was up, reading as the witch twice with two different delicious little slave girls. I have this vision for the witch that is a combination of the White Witch of Narnia fame and Milificent of Disney's Sleeping Beauty. I though I did pretty well. HOWEVER, there was one other adult woman at the callback and she read the scene after I did. And she was fabulous! Really amazing...it was really humbling to watch her. She took a very different approach, but she was so natural and comfortable with her movements and her timing was phenomenal. It really was quite an education watching her; that's another reason why the all-in-one-room audition format is so great...it's an incredible opportunity to learn from other (real) actors. Honestly, watching her do the part made me feel fairly silly for thinking I could pull it off. Although, I do think I could pull it off...I just need to learn to be more physically comfortable on stage. Of course, that's where direction helps.

Then we read a scene with the Mother and the Father and the Neighbor. That scene was nice and went fairly well, but I felt like I really just "read" it as opposed to "acted." The guys who read the scene with me were amazingly talented and I felt like a bit of a hack...I was painfully aware of how my face was not interested in reacting the way I wanted it to. Somehow the nerves in my stomache were also telling the nerves in my face how to behave. In the words of Charlie Brown: "My body and my brain hate each other."

And so, I wait...nervously and impatiently...growing more doubtful with each passing moment. I mean, if I were "in" wouldn't someone have told me by now? There were supposed to be three adult women at the callback but only two of us were there. And as far as I can tell, there are only two roles for adult women. Which could be good, but that third really could be someone the director knows well and is wonderful and therefore is a shoo-in. I hate being analytical. It's exhausting.

The Audition - October 20th

Tonight was an absolute blast. The first read through of the script is on Monday the 27th, so that means a minimal amount of waiting to hear whether I got a part.

I was scheduled to work tonight until 7, but the auditions started at 6:30, so I had plans to leave work around 6:45 and drive right to the audition (about 45 minutes from where I work) in order to be seen before they ended at 9. However, I did not plan well, and realized that I was wearing pants that required heels and that my heels were extraordinarily loud and obnoxious. A former director once gave the sage advise that noisy heels are incredibly distracting during an audition and so should not be worn. So I thought, okay, I will run to the mall on my lunch break and find a cheap pair of quiet shoes that are tall enough to keep my cuffs off the floor. After 1 1/2 hours and 5 stores, I was convinced that such a shoe does not exist. So I decided I would have to leave work earlier in order to go home first and change both my pants and shoes. This actually worked well as Perfect Friend and I would be able to drive together rather than meet there. On the way home, my car started freaking up as I accelerated to 60. I kept it under 60 and it seemed fine, but then I noticed the temperature gauge said, well, HOT. So I frantically called my husband who told me that I had to pull over and shut the car off or I would ruin the engine. Argh. I did not have time for such nonsense. But I did as I was told...and...long story short...the car made it home, I put on new pants and shoes, and PF and I headed out to our Audition.

This play is a children's play written by the director who was, naturally, holding the auditions. It runs about an hour and has a cast of many children, a few parents, and a fierce witch who has spirits for servants and children for slaves. What could be more fun? We filled out our applications and waited to be called in to read some scenes. We were called in with about 8 children between the ages of about 8 and 17. Sadly, the director noticed that PF had a conflict that fell on the same date as a performance, so she was told she wouldn't be able to be cast, but that she could stay and read for fun if she wanted. She opted to stay in the room to watch the auditions. It was sad really...but I think it must be a much better way to get a "no."

So I read for one of the Mother parts, and I read for the Witch...and man was it fun! I think I would LOVE acting with kids...they are amazing! It was so incredible how uninhibited they were, and how friendly. One of the scenes was just a bunch of siblings fighting and not doing what they were told and these kids were so great...they all behaved just like real siblings. I loved it. And the other scene involved the witch and 4 of the kids reading the parts of the spirits...that was fun because I got to yell at them and point my fingers in their faces and try to terrify them. So, first I was mommy dearest, and then I was vile villain...either part would make me glad.

The best part though, was at the end when we were getting ready to leave and the two youngest girls walked by and smiled at me and one gave me a thumbs up and said, "Good Job." And then the other smiled at me and said, "Good Job." I said, "Thanks! You too!" I hope I get to see those girls again.

The Audition - October 18th

So, yesterday, I had my weekly Saturday morning coffee talk with my favorite Coffee Friend. I had to cut it short because I didn't wake up early enough to get all ready for the audition before I went to meet her. After coffee, I scooted home to finish primping. I had spent about 3 hours the night before searching through clearance racks at TJ Maxx, Kohl's, Old Navy and Target looking for the perfect audition dress and shoes. I found a dress and I found shoes, but when I got home to put them on on Saturday morning, I decided that a dress that I had in my closet would be an adequate choice. However, the $25 spent on the new dress was not wasted because it is adorable and I will wear it often. That's what I'm telling myself. The shoes were perfect and highly necessary...a sensible pair of black flats is never a wasted purchase. That is also what I'm telling myself. I dolled all up and then headed out to pick up Perfect Friend. When I got to her house we each squealed in delight at how stunning the other looked and how precious it was that we were both wearing black and white dresses. And then we headed north to the audition.

Neither of us had any idea what to expect; my previous experience auditioning at this theater involved reading a monologue from the script. When we got there, there were about 6 others seated in the hallway waiting for their turns and a few pockets of people strewn about reading bits of scenes together. We were each given an application which we filled out, all the while giggling nervously and commenting on how we couldn't write because our hands were shaking. And then we were called in...together. Only the director was in the room, and he said that he would have us both read for the same part. He gave us each a piece of the script and told us that he would send someone else out to read the other part and we should work on the scene for a while in the hallway and then we would be called back in to read it.

When we were called in, I went first. I thought I nailed that scene. It was so fun, and the director laughed at appropriate times and seemed genuinely pleased. Afterwards, he gave me another scene to work on and said he would send out some others to read the other parts. So I went into the hall to work on scene 2 while Perfect Friend took her turn with scene 1. Three of us were working on our scene together when Perfect Friend came out of her first pass. She also had a new scene in hand. Her scene was the Monologue. I think my gut could sense at that moment my impending failure. We other three were called in to read our scene and it went fairly well...I didn't feel as confident about it as the first one. Afterwards the Director said, "Thank you for your time. We are having call backs on Tuesday so this afternoon or tomorrow we will call you if we need to hear any more from you." Then Perfect Friend went in to read her Monologue and afterwards was told the same thing, and then we drove home.

I dropped her off at her house, and then went home. I changed my clothes, got ready to take my dog for a walk and then remembered to turn my phone back on. There was a voicemail. Keep in mind that Saturday's auditions were to run from 10 AM to 3 PM and the time was currently about 1:30. The voicemail was from Perfect Friend squealing with delight that she had just been called and invited to callbacks on Tuesday. The auditions weren't even over for the day, and she already got her callback. I received no such call.

There has been a battle raging between spirit and flesh for the last 24 hours that is utterly painful. Rationally and in my heart of hearts, I am completely and absolutely thrilled for Perfect Friend. Of course I am! But in my ego and my flesh I am sad and disappointed. It stands to reason, and I don't think there is anything wicked or selfish in feeling that way...I think it would be less human if I weren't battling these irritating emotions. It has been really helpful, mentally preparing for this sort of inevitability. I read somewhere that Jack Nicholson was rejected for something like 25 parts before he landed a role. So much depends on the vision that the director has for the character, and when many actors are vying for one part, they might all be talented actors, but ultimately only one can be cast. A rejection must not be interpreted as categorical failure. This is a hard truth for me to accept, but I know it is so! So many fabulous writers and actors and musicians encountered rejection after rejection after rejection, but they were so certain that the pursuit of their passion was not in vain that they refused to give up. And eventually, their perseverance was rewarded. Of course, there is the question of talent and the potential lack thereof...but I'm not quite ready to accept that as an option yet.

Perfect Friend and I are going to another audition tomorrow night (Monday). This one has a lot of roles and many of them are gender neutral...so that's a plus. If she gets another callback and I don't, I will try desperately to not be jealous. But I might want to pull her hair or something. I never said I was perfect.

A New Adventure

Okay - it's time for the next installment. This entry will attempt to accomplish what I intended to do with this blog from it's inception - sharing with you, dear reader, the before, during and after of a multitude of theatrical experiences.

This entry stars me, of course, and my dear friend Perfect Friend. She doesn't know that that is her name...I hope she isn't too uncomfortable learning it via the interweb. This is what I call her when I'm talking about her with my co-worker...because it's pretty much true. Perfect Friend is beautiful and thin and smart and funny and kind and silly and talented. She sang at her own wedding and she loves spending time with her own family AND with her in-laws. Within 24 hours of joining facebook, she had about 300 friends. She is a genuinely happy person who is married to her genuinely happy male counterpart, and it is often a mystery why this genuinely happy person enjoys the friendship of the little black raincloud that is me...but she does. Because she is Perfect Friend. And I'm not complaining.

So, Perfect Friend has a dream of being an actress...particularly in a musical (or musicals) of some sort...which I think is a brilliant idea because she would be really fantastic. I also share this dream, although the musical piece of it for me will undoubtedly be limited to the occasional glorious chorus role. Together, we two are embarking on an audition frenzy. Well, we have two auditions planned for non-musicals this month and she will be auditioning for at least two musicals over the next few months (if I have to drive her to them myself).

Our first audition is really a no-chancer because it is a fairly popular play among play going sorts (though I had never heard of it, but then, I'm pretty much a poser), and there is only one female role for a female in her 20s-30s. It would be a pretty sweet role, but I imagine there will be a zillion (literally) 20-30 year olds vying for it, so we have agreed to look at this as a practice audition...although either of us would be ecstatic to be cast, and (almost) equally ecstatic if the other were cast, so it's really all for fun. That is what I keep telling myself...I think I'm almost convinced. I'm really trying to figure out how to look at the audition process as, if nothing else, and opportunity to perform as the star of the show to a private audience for all of 2 minutes.

We got together last weekend to read through the play in it's entirety. We just started reading the script and traded off with every line - truly, it was a theater nerd's delight. The play takes place in the south, but the first two characters are a couple of gents from jolly old England, so we spent two hours interchanging our hack British accents with our hack Southern accents. It was hilarious. If you like that sort of thing...which I do.

Working Hard or Hardly Working

One day we got an email from our director. We were to show up as early as possible in order to help with building our set. I didn't know that was part of the deal. The prima donna in me was somewhat disturbed...manual labor? Ewww. The drama queen in me was exquisitely frightened...for my own safety and for that of anyone who might come within 10 feet of me and a power tool. The realist in me was anticipating great embarrassment.

Ever responsible and eager for approval, I arrived promptly at the requested time. Still unfamiliar with the lay of the theater, I wandered in and meandered to the room where we had met for our one previous rehearsal. There was an unfamiliar circle of faces in the room reading unfamiliar lines and I frantically scanned the perimeter of the room for someone recognizable. I found them huddled in a corner around what turned out to be a freight elevator and went to join them. There were about five of us, I think, and two were being productive. The other three hung back making various witty comments about how useless it was for us to be there at all...not because there wasn't plenty to do...but rather, because we were likely to do more harm than good. Okay, to be fair, I was the only one making witty comments to that effect. Someone from the circle of line readers approached us with a "shush, we're trying to run lines." I think that if she had heard my hilarious comments, she would have never dreamed of shushing us. At any rate, properly chastised, we buttoned our lips and trooped down into the prop room where the real "help" was to begin.

Witty banter can only take a person so far. Witty banter is how incompetent people deal with the insecurity surrounding their incompetency. Witty banter is where I am a Viking. I'm always amazed by people who can jump into any situation and make themselves incredibly useful. There was a guy there who gave us a rundown of what needed to be accomplished and immediately, everyone started moving as a cohesive set building unit, while I stood stupidly and made jokes. Two people grabbed some old props and started tearing them apart in order to make new props. One person (a GIRL, no less) grabbed some 2x4's or 8x12's or QxR's or something and started feeding them to a motorized death machine (I think the technical term for that is "circular saw"). I stood paralyzed in horror and awe wincing at every wooden scream and sawdust spray and then wandered around saying, "Someone needs to tell me what to do. Someone give me a job to do." How do people just know what to do? I don't know.

The guy in charge had a handful of something and said, "Here, these pencils need to be sharpened." Awesome. "I can sharpen pencils!" I said. And he handed them to me. Now, these were not regular roundy type number two pencils, and there was no pencil sharpener in the house. These were hard core rectangularish SHOP pencils and the only way to sharpen them was with a KNIFE. So I took a knife, and I took a pencil and I sharpened it to a gleaming graphite spear. And then I did it again. And then again. And you can only imagine the thrill that coursed through me when I heard someones desperate cry: "Hey! I need a pencil."

Fade to Black

I may or may not continue this saga. Today I know I will not. Maybe tomorrow I will. It's all fading so fast...that's an unfortunate fact about the nice things in life. They go away so quickly. I remember sitting next to Beauty one day watching scenes that we were not in being blocked and reblocked and lines being run and rerun. I leaned over to her and said, "It's so weird, but I don't remember this part of the theater at all." She looked at me oddly and said, "What part?" I motioned towards the rehearsal and said, "This...the rehearsal. I only remember performing." We laughed at how silly that was because 90% of a show is rehearsal.

It's true though...I remember the conversations in the dressing rooms and the parties after rehearsals and the cheering of the audience during the curtain calls, but the work surrounding it all is so forgotten. I remember the things I learned that had little to do with rehearsing, but everything to do with the overall experience.

I remember the when my "Mother" in The Glass Menagerie explained to me what she meant when she said that DeeDee and Tiffany* were "affected". I've never forgotten that word...I had never heard it before (in that context). She was describing two girls who put on airs of being far more grown-up and cosmopolitan than they actually were. And it helped me to understand them so much better. Up until that moment, these two girls hovered at the edge of my periphery as two glamorous strangers who held the all of the answers to the feminine mystique. In that moment, their sparkly auras were slightly dimmed, and I found that I was far more interested in having my Mother respect me than to have her lump me in with the "affected" girls. I wonder how I would remember them today if we had never had that conversation.

*names have been changed to protect the innocent

16 Year Olds Are Fun

Is it normal for a 32 year old woman to thoroughly enjoy conversations with 16 year old boys? Maybe these were unique 16 year old boys, or maybe I have absolutely no concept of my age. Or maybe I'm just a creepy old lady. At any rate, I think I enjoyed the conversations I had with our two 16 year old boys more than just about anyone. They are just fun! One of them had a small part...his lines consisted largely of "Sorry." And as my few lines consisted largely of "Ernie!" we had a good amount of down time during which we discussed the important things in life. I made a brilliant case in defense of The Legend of Zelda as the best NES game of all time. He begged to differ and made his case for Mike Tyson's Punch Out (or Knock Out...or whatever). Was he even born when Nintendo came out? Kids....they think they're so smart. I also learned that The Chocolate Wars and To Kill a Mockingbird are two great books that I really must read. And I came away from our discussions of The Dark Knight with more profound understanding than I had garnished from any such discussions with my grown-up friends.

I absolutely love people when they are at an age where they are dreaming and planning and idealistic and passionate and untainted by many of life's eventual cruelties. That's not to say that millions of 16 year olds haven't encountered more of life's cruelties than I could ever pretend to imagine. I am just compelled to take the ones that haven't yet fully butted heads with the injustice of life and validate every dream and insight that they are willing to lay bare. I also want to take them under my inadequate wing and protect them from every awful thing that lurks in the shadows waiting to devour them.

Both of these boys have dreams of acting...on stage I think...thought I doubt either would turn down an offer of great Hollywood celebrity. My husband was commenting on how interesting it is that guys so young would have such a passion for something like acting - that they would take it upon themselves to audition for plays that are not part of a school sanctioned activity - and that they would do it every opportunity they get. And it is fascinating. I love it. I love the privilege of getting to meet these amazing people who maybe don't buy into everything that "kids" are "supposed" to be. They have real interests and passions which aren't dictated by a desperate desire to be accepted by the coolest of their peers. Ugh...I hope no one ever succeeds in taking those interests and passions away from them. I think if I ever saw someone try, I would have to punch them.

First Impressions

I was late. Driving from Eden Prairie to Anoka during rush hour (shouldn't rush hour be over by 6:30?) is a tedious venture. The first day of school butterflies were eating each other in my stomach which was a nuisance. That is the technical term for them, by the way; the technical term for the effect they produce is called "high school cafeteria syndrome." The obvious symptom is a regression in thought processes back to said high school cafeteria days. "Will my friends be there? Will I be able to make new friends? Who will I sit with? Will they like me? Will everyone else already have friends? Will there be any picking of teams or pairing off into twos? Will there be an even number? Will I have to be partners with the teacher? Am I dressed right? What do I do with my hands?" That sort of thing.

Someone else was just pulling in when I finally got there, which was nice because I had no idea where to go, and it was very nice to not have to walk into a room of strangers alone. She was obviously not a stranger to the theater and was happy to help me find my way to the rehearsal room. Chairs were arranged in a little circle and I fell into one across from "the Beauty" I had been chummy with at callbacks. Apart from her and the woman I had followed in from the parking lot, I hadn't met anyone else. Unless you count the director, who I couldn't say I had "met" considering I still hadn't managed to have a conversation with her where I had any idea what I was saying. I gave Beauty a little wave and a smile and was relieved to have them returned. One new friend in the bag. There were twelve of us in total and at the time it was impossible to guess what our age range was - but whatever the range, it was thorough. There were two "younger" guys and couple of "older" men and some "middle aged" adults and two "young" women and then me and another guy - I have no idea where 30ish falls on the age barometer - maybe someone who is either 15 or 50 can fill in that blank for me.

I was curious to know if I would discover any of them to be Christians. I had a hunch that there might be some lurking about. Possibly real Christians. I'm trying to remember right now what made me think that...maybe it was a t-shirt someone was wearing at auditions...maybe it was something about an e-mail address I had seen...maybe it was something my mother-in-law had mentioned about the owners of the theater...whatever it was, I was looking for it. I'm always looking for Christians. Real Christians. Not Easter and Christmas Christians, or even every Sunday Christians, or American Christians, or Catholic (or Lutheran or Baptist etc) Christians, but real live bible thumping, yearning for Jesus Christians. And when I say bible thumping, I mean it like Thumper in Bambi I guess..."I'm thumpin', and that's why they call me Thumper"...like, I can't help but thump because it's just so good, but I'm not going to thump you upside the head. And when I say yearning for Jesus, I mean a bone deep aching love and yearning. Like the kind that Bella Swan has for Edward Cullen or that Gollum has for his "precious" but in a good way and magnified a million times. These kind of Christians are awfully hard to come by - particularly in a politically correct secular office environment or *gasp* The Theater. Of course, I like to think that I am one of them...but I'm afraid I keep it on the down-low to a fairly shameful degree, so who knows, we're probably everywhere.

I was also very curious to discover how this theater experience would be different than those I knew twelve years ago. The former days, as wonderful as they were, did serve to feed my vanity; they gave me purpose and meaning and value. And I'm well aware at this point in my life that charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting and therefore vanity is not something worth feeding. No matter how much you feed it, it is going to betray you and leave you more desperate than you ever imagined possible. I had landed in that desperate place and was allowed to rise up from it clean and safe and less desperate than I ever imagined possible. So, I was curious to discover what theater life would be like on this side of grace.

We started the read through event with (horror of horrors) an ice breaker. Thankfully, it didn't involve removing our shoes or telling about our first kiss or anything like that. It was a Tupperware party sort of ice breaker - "Tell us your name, whether this is your first time acting at this theater, and...umm...your favorite kind of ice cream." I much prefer to be at the beginning of these circles. I was sort of in the middle, which gave the first day of school butterflies ample opportunity to start feasting once again. Ugh. What would I say? Could I come up with something witty and clever? Something that would win their hearts for all of time? I like all ice creams! It's not right to make me choose a favorite! It passed rather painlessly, I have no recollection of any one's favorite ice cream. I think that one lady was jotting it all down - unfortunately it was not for purposes of surprising us on a random occasion with custom selected ice cream treats. What was very nice to discover was that many of us were in the same situation in that we had never acted at this theater before. A few had, of course, and some had even been in plays there together. The familiarity that they shared wasn't the sort infused with inside jokes and other pretentiousness...it was more a reflection of the camaraderie that I hoped the future held for all of us.

It was strange to survey a circle of twelve people that I did not know yet, knowing that I would become increasingly intimate with them in the weeks to come, and then would possibly drift away from many of them (if not all) forever. There is a bittersweetness about the whole experience...but it is something I would not trade for all the world.

No Small Parts

They said the cast would be posted online that Tuesday. At least that's how I remember it. At 7 AM on Tuesday they had not yet posted anything. Artsy-fartsies simply cannot be trusted. I checked the website with obsessive consistency throughout the day. I kept trying to limit myself to once every half hour...but five minutes after I checked I would think, "They might have just posted it." And so I would check again. I really didn't know how it would work. Would they call the winners first, or would they really just announce them online? There were three plays to cast...would they be casting the same people in multiple roles? That would certainly decrease the odds. It was maddening, the waiting, the not knowing. That night when I was about to crawl into bed heartsick with grief, my phone rang. It was the director of one of the plays. She was offering me a part. "It's a small part," she said, "I would call it a character part. I think you would appear about three times. Is that something you would be interested in?" My heart was pounding and I could feel my face burning. Now here is the stupid thing. The human ego is really a monstrous thing and the heart of a man (or woman) is wicked beyond any comprehension. My first gut reaction was to be disappointed that I wasn't being offered a starring role. As my wise husband reminded me later when I confessed this gross little foible, "You didn't even think you would get a callback." Over the sound of blood rushing through my ears, I heard my voice answer correctly, "Yes, I would be very interested." She gave me information about when the first read through of the script would be and I hung up the phone. I was fairly irritated with myself to realize that I hadn't thanked her, nor had I any recollection whatsoever of what her name was.

My sister-in-law saw the official announcement online before I did and she emailed me with congratulations and a reminder to print the page. I was excited to see that one of the girls I had met at callbacks was cast as "the beauty." I wasn't even jealous. We older, wiser women must pass the torch to the younger generation, mustn't we? With all gentleness, humility and maturity. Bah. But honestly, I was thrilled to know that I would already have a friend.

It was really only a matter of a day or so before I had a more proper perspective on the situation. Dan was so right! I had been convinced that the audition had completely bombed and in spite of that, I was now going to be on STAGE! It was finally really truly going to happen. The size of the part couldn't possibly matter. One of my favorite theater memories is of playing a courtesan in "A Funny thing Happened on the Way to the Forum." I had no lines and was on stage for all of 30 seconds, but the memories I have are of the fun we girls had in rehearsals learning our courtesan dances and of doing the Charleston backstage during performances while we waited for our cues. The experience as a whole is ultimately worth so much more than the number of lines. In fact (and this may just be more psychological hooey), it's possible that getting a small part gave me a greater opportunity to connect with the rest of the cast on in a way that might not have been possible if I'd had a million lines to worry about memorizing. Or even fifteen lines.

The Audition

I auditioned for a play.


Tucked away in a scrapbook somewhere is a community college newspaper review of a performance I gave 12 years ago that was nothing short of spectacular. Every time I have called the performance to mind over the passing years, it has grown grander and more magnificent. For one glorious year 12 years ago, I was a relatively big fish in a relatively small pond and I tasted the thrill of being a small town stage diva.


When I moved from Brainerd to "the Cities", I told myself and everyone who asked that I was going to try to be an actress. My move had nothing to do with the boy I had met just a month or two earlier. Sure it didn't. I was young and pretty (and vain) and had every confidence in the world that whenever I decided to grace an audition with my presence, I would then become an actress. And so there was no real hurry. I looked in the paper at audition notices on occasion (this was when the "internet" was still mainly only available on a pay per minute basis). I think I called on one once...but I never got around to going. And then this boy and I fell in love and around that same time, I was blindsided by Jesus and suddenly everything was different. Different interests, different priorities, different loves, different values. It seemed such a frivolous thing to want to act on a stage. It seemed desparate. So the dream just settled into history as happy memories to be pulled out from time to time to offer validation or add interest to an otherwise dull autobiography.


And yet, through all the years of practical life, there has always been a longing...not a desparation...just a longing. The memories that I have of the brief time I spent on stage are some of the happiest memories I know. They are memories of belonging, of excelling, of laughing, of comraderie, of inventing, of creating, of living. And so at long last, I decided to hunt for an audition.


There is a terrific theatre that my hubby and I saw "Guys and Dolls" at a few years ago. For whatever reason, this theatre struck me as one that would be great fun to be involved in, and also seemed a more accessible and less intimidating option than any others I am aware of. From time to time, when the acting bee would start buzzing in my proverbial bonnet, I would check that theatre's website and look at their audition postings. Everytime I checked, they were either auditioning for a musical (too scarey) or had just posted a new cast list. But finally, on one happy Sunday afternoon, I checked again, and lo and behold, they were holding auditions that very week for an evening of three one act plays written by the lovely Agatha Christie. And so, with much fear and trembling, I determined that I would give it a go. And I did.

The experience itself was moderately terrifying. The only auditions I had ever attended had involved a room full of many people reading scenes together. This audition was a complete unknown to me. It lasted all of 4 minutes. I entered a room all alone and faced a panel of three strange but smiling faces and one face that never looked up during the process. This face just sat in the corner writing things. I called this face "bad cop". I read a little monologue that was provided from one of the plays being auditioned for...badly, I thought. So badly. And then I was asked to read it again with more dripping sarcasm and less mystery. And so I tried. It was awful and then it was over. And then it was awful all weekend. I replayed the minutes over and over...mourning an opportunity lost. "I am a genius of dripping sarcasm! Why didn't I try harder to prove it?"

Dan (husband) and I took Penny (dog) for a walk on Sunday, the day after the event. I had been trying all the self psychology I could think of to make it less awful. "At least I did it." "It was a great learning experience." "I will be less nervous next time." "Next time I will try actually ACTING (instead of just reading)." These were all true statements of course, but really complete crap as they did nothing to soothe the awful. And then around 2 in the afternoon, I got a glorious phone call from a dear sweet lady inviting me to a call back audition the following evening.

The callback was a completely different experience. There were about 30 of us there and instantly I remembered everything that I loved about the theater. Everyone was friendly, many were strange, some were pretty, some were not, some were old, some were young, and there was one lady there who I think was straight-up crazy. We all sat in a hallway making fast friends with whoever sat next to us. "Have you acted here before?" "Where did you drive from?" "Have you seen any of the scripts?" "What other plays have you done?" And then we were herded into the same room that the original audition had taken place in. It was far less frightening filled with 30 nervous and excited actors. And "bad cop" was nowhere to be seen.

And then my ego took a hit. The directors handed out scripts for scenes with parts we were being concidered for. It was at that moment that I discovered that 12 years had taken "pretty" and "young" away from me...although "vain" was obviously not going to be defeated. I was asked to read for "Mom" and "Emmeline...a grim woman." Ouch. What about "An extremely pretty young woman" and "The Beauty"? Alas, a grim part is better than no part. And I know a lot of pretty, young moms. With my vain head held high, I retreated to the hall with the rest of the cattle where we waited for our moment to shine.