My audition is over with. I went in and let my material do the work. I smiled, had fun, breathed. They were stoic but laughed at the end. They said they would make sure my paperwork was good and let me know if I was free to go. That could mean anything. Either way, I did the work, had fun, and did my best. I also looked good. Now it is in God’s hands. As I was leaving though, someone recognized me from TV. Crazy how that works.
I also had a stage mother or two snarl at me with their little Brandene who was just another Selena Gomez knock off. I wanted to tell them that if they were going to pimp their kid out, they should at least realize that there is one difference between Selena and Brandene. Selena has this magical thing called talent, little Brandene, not so much.
Today felt good but I also felt drained. I worked hard to have my set timed with network friendly material. For two weeks I put my pride aside, humbling myself as I went back to shitty open mic afte shitty open mic. To say I didn’t want to slit my wrists each time my ego took three steps back and shilled out money for stage time I would be lying. To say sometimes I didn’t want to take the freaking mic chord and hang myself from the rafters for the first few days would be a lie as well. I worked my ass off for the opportunity I was given. I paid in blood, sweat, and tears for this audition. Maybe the universe will take that into account.
On the other hand, I feel a certain love for comedy that I haven’t felt in sometime. Work shopping a new, clean set has been nothing short of exciting actually. While most of my stage time was open mic, I actually looked forward to a new challenge everytime I stepped up there. Sure some of the folks I shared the stage with were newbies, but I learned a thing or two from their wonder and enthusiasm. I also journeyed out of my comfort zone to some alt venues where I found they not only loved comedy, but were very welcoming of me. I have always been hit or miss with alt venues, sometimes they are wonderful but sometimes they are just too weird. However, I felt a new respect as they wrote smart jokes, used SAT words, and didn’t pander to the lowest common denominator. In addition, I also found the basements of my earlier days homes that still welcomed me with open arms. The stage felt like my safe classroom again. It was as if I was twenty years old, no TV credits and no books published to my name. The only thing I wanted was to be a good comic and to write the perfect punchline. I was eager to get onstage even if I tanked. So what I was sick? Like a heroin addict needs their dope I needed my fix too. It was making me sick, I was going without basic needs, and yes I was going broke. Stage time was my crack. While I am not used to paying for it these days, I was grateful to have it.
All week my comedy angels have been around me which has made me feel nothing short of blessed. For as much jealousy as I have felt since my face has been on TV, I have felt a lot of love too. Whether it was two headliner friends of mine looking at my material. Or a club manager friend who threw me up so I could practice my audition set in front of a real crowd. I feel good about the kindness I have been experiencing from those around me. It’s like the jealous shitheads don’t matter. Actually, they don’t.
For the past two days I have been ill from burning the candle at both ends. Dayquil and penecilin infused I headed to my audition. I did what I set out to do. I hit my jokes on the mark. When I felt like I was speeding up I took my breath. They asked me a question about how I got into vent. Then I was done. The whole thing feels like a surreal blur now. Did I get it? I don’t know. But this was a moral victory. I was scouted for this thing. I prepared a clean set. I followed directions. I set out to do what I needed to do. Now I am at the next level, ready for prime time baby.
I am now at my house. My body pounding from the past three weeks: book talk, audition tape, clean set prep, and big audition. Now what is next? I am disinfecting my place because Wednesday I got a stomach bug and threw up everywhere. There will be a lot of laundry that needs to be done. I really feel weird because I am not in front of my mirror practicing with May, and I am not a shitty open mic paying for my comedy drug. I am not pounding on doors for stage time either. I feel like I am counting days in a drug rehab. What to do with myself?
My skin does itch. My head does pound. I am feeling useless as I look for the meaning of life. I am depressed cause there was this build up and it is over. At the same time, I am relieved my act came out of my mouth smoothly and my roommate and I hit the mark.
It’s called withdrawl. May Wilson suggested we need to tell some good dick jokes. Maybe she's right.
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl