I was driving from the lake this morning after a good workout and a good coxing session. It’s not as dirty as it sounds. I’ve started coxing boats at the ARC. I get to be that person at the head front (or back depending on how you look at it) of the boat who calls commands and steers the boat.
After four hours of being drenched with sweat and hot I was ready for a cold Iced Tea and a shower. I, however, was about to get something more. I got a call from the director of the show I auditioned for last week. I don’t audition for a lot of shows because I really have to feel like I love the show in order to drag my butt to rehearsals every night. This show I was passionate about. It’s set in the 1940’s and it follows the women of a family trying to get into a U.S.O. tour to get to their men on the European front, for one reason or another.
I was told I look too young. I’m friggin 30 and I’ll take it as a compliment but it’s tough to have a project you really want, you think you’re perfect for, and not get it. I even had a very in-depth conversation with the director for close to an hour the day before the audition. We both see eye to eye about everything in the theatre world and to be honest I’m more pissed off that she missed out on this chance! I don’t think I’m perfect for every role. I’m not the ingenue, I’m not the dumb naked blonde but I can fucking kill the 40’s era music, kill it with an old-timey microphone! Her loss, and the show’s loss.
I like to cry, not in front of a lot of people but I’ll do it when I need the emotional release. And after a great day of rowing quickly crumpled by news like that, yep, I let go of a few tears.
Now, I’m all dressed up, ready for dinner with friends and glad I have a husband who puts down his painting work to comfort me when I arrive home sticky, sweaty, tired and momentarily heartbroken.