Not About the Library

I interrupt my usual line of bitchiness for a new one: remember theater? That thing I went to college to learn and to grad school to give myself a day job for? Nah, me niether.

Well, I went on my first audition in years tonight. I thought I did pretty well for not having done it in forever, but I probably won't get picked. I now remember why I got out of the whole acting thing, besides the psychic damage that I slapped a bandage on and refuse to look at again. The problem is simple: the audition process makes you crazy. And I don't need any help in that direction, thank you. You sit or stand there, wishing like hell you could read the director's/playwright's/whoever's mind so that you can give them what they want better than anyone else. And there's no immediate gratification, especially if they like you even a little bit. Given all this, you'd think they'd come up with a better system, but having been a director, let alone a being with a shred of empathy, I am sad to report that we haven't. It is babaric and unjust, but not much else works. At least, not in theater. Hollywood takes meetings and does lunches, but that is the movies and only for a very small fraction of a percentage of that. The rest just cast their friends because that's who they can afford. But I digress. I thought I was pretty good and I think I'd be perfect for at least one role. I find out Sunday, asssuming they have their shit together.