Refresh (F5)

Nine days ago I auditioned for “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying” at a theater in Scottsdale.  It was all part of my master plan for the year – to diversify, branch out, and get to know as many theatre people in town as I can (without heading all the way to Gilbert).  I had some doubts – I haven’t done two shows back to back before and I don’t know what kind of strain that would put on my family.   But I know this theater does great work, and “How to Succeed” is a show I’d love to do.

Eight days ago I went to the callback (yay!).  I got there at 6 p.m. and left at midnight.  In between, I learned and sang two songs, read and read and read again for three different roles, learned a dance with a TOE-TOUCH and a SOMERSAULT and a KNEE SLIDE, performed the dance, performed the dance again, read some more, watched people get cut (but not necessarily out of the running), read some more, belted out a song at 11:30 p.m., stood on stage and tried to look pretty and awake, watched more people get cut (but not necessarily out of the running), and looked around in amazement when there were only three girls remaining.  …What that meant, I’m not sure.

Three days ago I went back again for another callback.  The director mentioned I’d be reading for the sexy secretary role (who, me?), so I attempted to turn it up to 11.  I poofed my hair, slipped on my slinkiest dress, plucked my eyebrows into reluctant obedience, painted my nails slutty pink, and even wrangled some ridiculous lashes onto my eyes.  I got there and read again for all three roles.  I went home after about an hour.

Supposedly, supposedly, the casting results would be posted on Facebook and the theatre’s website by today, February 15th.

ARE THEY POSTED?

No, they are not.

And so I quietly go insane…

Trying Not to Panic…

My Phoenix Theatre audition is in just a few hours and I am definitely entering the nausea/fainting stage.

Luckily, I have the coolest daughter in the world.  After Moo watched me sing my songs a few times, I had an idea.  I had her sit up on the couch, I grabbed my headshot and resume, and walked into the room.

“Hello, Mrs. Director Lady!” I said.

She looked confused a second, and then her eyes flashed.  “Oh hello, yes, you’re the next girl to audition,” she said, carefully studying my headshot as I handed it to her.  “Yes, this is you,” she decided.

And so I went through my whole audition, four times, under the critical but loving eyes of my dear Moo.

I still want to crawl into a hole/faint/throw up….but not quite as much.

Wit’s End

I’m unhappy – in a way that has taken me by surprise.  In all my pull-my-hair-out moments pre-Juice, I never felt quite like this.  I feel sort of desperate and panicky, like I just can’t find the path back to happy motherhood, or even begin to know where to look.

I’m being a bit dramatic.  It’s what I do.

Today, as Juice cried on the playmat and Moo dragged her bottom across the floor while I instructed her for the 20th time to put on her shoes NOW, I glanced at the clock.  TWO FREAKING O’CLOCK.  I had been trying to get us out the door since 11.  For God’s sake.  How can just getting out the damn door take 3 hours?

Moo finally reached me, and I pulled on her boots as she studied my exasperated expression.

“All you ever do is say no,” she announced.

And I started to cry.

That is not me!  It can’t be me!  I am not Stern-Face Mom, a big tall symbol of No!  I am not!  I mean sure, I say no – but I’m not that blank wall of negativity that some moms turn into.  I’m not!

But what if that’s what I’m turning into? 

I’m scared.

Herbie’s answer was to Go Get a Job! (or something similar).  I know he’s really truly trying to help, and I also know he would really love for me to financially contribute to the household.  But if I got just-some-job, it would soak up all my time and energy, and everything I’ve been working on – this, and theatre – all of it – would be abandoned.  I don’t feel like I can afford to put it all on hold again.  And I also feel like I am on a path that is leading me somewhere…somewhere good.

Also, I already have an idea for a new project that could hopefully make me some money eventually.  I’m pretty excited - it’s called the GREEN ROOM, a blog for Valley actors and dancers.  It would be a combination of theatre news, interviews, class listings, artist profiles, gossip, discussion topics, and more!  Facebook has bits and pieces of that sort of thing, but the GREEN ROOM would give all theatre artists (and dancers! Gotta love the dancers!) a site where they can stay up-to-date and feel like a community.  Everyone knows actors love reading about themselves, so I think it would have a pretty good chance of gaining a decent readership.  And maybe…eventually…I think I could get some advertisers.

I hope to launch in January. 

What do you think?

Fatigue

Driving home from visiting my friend Snow White last night, I almost blacked out.

That’s when it hit me that I am very, very tired.  Or possibly having a really slow stroke.

I got home and freaked out to Herbie and looked up symptoms of stroke and brain aneurysm online.  Sounds kinda silly now, but I was scared.  Matters of life and death are prevalent in my mind, and it’s so frightening to me how you never really know what’s going on inside your own body.  I was scared to go to sleep and never wake up.  Herbie encouraged me to drink lots of water and finally I crashed into bed.  Luckily, I have two children who are more than happy to remind me that I’m alive by repeatedly waking me up through the night.  Moo – bad dreams.  Juice – general babyness.

The next morning, I decided to chalk it up to fatigue.  And maybe, getting older.  I’ve reached the age where I have to admit my body is starting to be effected.  My back hurts from carrying around Juice all the time.  I can’t just skip eating and coast on fumes.  Apparently, I can’t dance five weeks after giving birth and expect my body to just tough it out – no, I popped a ligament and it’s unclear whether my turnout will ever be the same.  I have new lines around my eyes after this pregnancy.  My belly really doesn’t seem interested in returning to its previous size.

And I’m just so very tired.

What a great time to start rehearsals for a new show!

Head in the Sand

I don’t think I have ever been this unprepared for an audition.  It’s terrible.  I think I didn’t realize that I would have absolutely zero alone-time to rehearse.  Maybe I should be able to practice while it’s just Moo and me hanging around the house, but either she comes in the room and stares at me really intensely while I’m singing, which I find unnerving, or she just talks at me as loud as she can until I give up and agree to be Snow White.  Or she compliments the voice of the person singing on the CD – but no comment on her mommy’s voice.  Sigh.

And maybe I should be able to practice when Moo naps, but I’m afraid to wake her up, and also, I am FREAKING EXHAUSTED.  By the time three o’clock hits, my body is aching and my eyelids are fluttering and I barely have the energy to eat three cookies before attacking the couch with my face.

And maybe I should be able to practice at night when Moo’s in bed and it’s just Herbie and me hanging around, but I just cannot practice in front of Herbie.  It’s not Herbie – I couldn’t practice in front of anyone.  I am not one of those people that can try out my monologue in front of friends and then say, “So whadaya think?”  No no no.  Even if he said nice things, I would be able to see it in his eyes if he thought my performance was pitiful.  Or shameful.  Or embarrassing.

I desperately need a Fortress of Solitude. 

Or can I just cancel it?  Please please can I just oh please cancel it???

Up Yours With a 10-Foot Pole, Doggy!

So is it ironic or just plain sucky that on the day I’m auditioning for the role of a dog, I have NEVER HATED DOGS MORE IN MY LIFE.

I’m nervous.  I’m entering psycho-freakout stage.  But I know that once I get Moo into bed for her nap, I can prepare, re-read the play, and do what I need to calm my nerves.  Moo totally cooperates with this plan, falling asleep wham-bam on the way home from the grocery store.

But then - BUT THEN – as I’m scooping her out of the car (we have a carport), the dog next door starts frrrrrrrEAKing out.  I try to unbuckle Moo more quickly, but it’s no use – she’s awake.  The stupid dog continues to yell at us as I quietly sing to Moo and rub her back, and I want to KILL. THAT DOG.  I really, honestly do.  I even looked around for a rock to throw at it.  WHY DO WE NOT HAVE ANY LARGE ROCKS IN OUR YARD?  Maybe that’s a good thing.  I couldn’t even yell at it, because I was still hoping that Moo would fall back asleep.  So I just had to settle for flipping it off.  He looked confused for a second, and continued barking, even louder. 

And may I just point out, that this dog has lived next door to us for over a year?  We live here!  GET USED TO IT, you stupid smelly ugly dog. 

So now Moo is not-sleeping in her bed, I am furious AND freaked out, AND I hate the animal I am auditioning to portray, and there is no hope.

No hope, no hope.

TO THE DEVIL WITH YOU, DOG!

Cold Sweats

Oh shit.  Audition tonight.

I started out the morning feeling cool, figuring I’m getting better at this audition thing, because usually first thing in the morning on an audition day I have stomach cramps.  But now it’s after noon and I’m entering the catatonic fear-freeze stage, having skipped over the stomach cramps (although I’m sure they’ll turn up sooner or later).  This is where I wander around the house, sweaty and shivery, half aware of Moo playing happily in the corner. 

If she asks me to play with her I don’t know what I’ll do.  I am certainly not capable of playing “Dinosaur Train” at the moment.

Surely I am going to spontaneously combust at any moment.

I know, I’ll print out my new resumes (edited to add that nifty Zoni nomination!).  But I still haven’t thought of anything to put under “special skills.”  I can’t do accents.  Well, unless you count vaguely southern “Dinosaur Train” conductors.

Why why why does there have to be IMPROV??

Eeeeeeeeeuuuuuuuuuaaaack!

Thud.

Doomsday

Tonight is opening night!  Or, technically, preview night, which means the entire cast views this as opening night, and the entire production staff views it as a final dress rehearsal.  You say finahle, I say finaale, whatever – there’s an audience.  An audience FILLED with people I know, even though I thought I made it clear after the last show that people who know me are NOT allowed to attend opening night, because it usually kinda stinks a little bit.  But noooo, my parents are coming, and bringing their lifelong friends the Bensons, as in Mrs. Benson, who taught me high school English and who I always hope will be proud of me, because she’s the kind of person that when she’s proud of you, oooh it’s just the warmiest, fuzziest feeling.  (Next to my mom being proud of me, of course.)  AND my mom invited a whole gaggle of teacher friends, AND my in-laws are coming, AND Miss Kate of “Kiss Me Kate” and Aaaaaaaah!

And, AND – apparently a critic is coming.  Mary the director was not supposed to tell us that, but I think she felt that we weren’t trying hard enough (oh, but we are we are we are, Mary), and decided we needed a little extra pressure.

So, yes, I’m feeling the pressure.  PRESSHAHH! as Billy Joel would say, who I believe is in concert downtown tonight.  I wonder if he still gets nervous, after all these years?

I confessed to my mom this morning that it’s very likely that I will hit a few wrong notes.  I can sing those harmonies backwards and forwards in rehearsal, but when it comes time to walk out on stage, my brain malfunctions.  My mom pointed out that the audience won’t mind, because people are off-key on American Idol all the time, and Randy Jackson always just gently mentions that they were a bit “pitchy.”

It’s true, “pitchy” is such a nice friendly word, but somehow, envisioning Randy Jackson’s pity face does not calm me down.

So I sought counsel.

“Break a leg!  You’ll be great,” said Herbie.

“Just have fun!” said my Mom.

And when I lamented to Mary that Chita would not have the problems I’m experiencing, she proclaimed, “Oh no - Chita messed up ALL the time.”

Hey, that IS comforting!

…Curtain up!  Light the lights!

First Rehearsal – The World Goes Round

AAGH.  (I wonder how many posts I’ve started  with this Cathy-like cry of despair?)

Two hours until our first rehearsal for “The World Goes Round,” and as expected, I am kind of a mess.  We’re starting with a music rehearsal at Fawna’s house, and I must admit I find her a tad frightening.  I’m afraid if I don’t excel off the bat, she will hit me with her Glare of Utter Disdain and tell the director I’m going to ruin the show.  (This fear is not totally unfounded, but that’s all I’ll say about that.)  I’ve been working and working on the music and lyrics, and just when I feel like I’ve got a pretty good handle on the harmonies, I try to sing with the Broadway recording and cannot find one single correct note.  The last time I tried, Moo frowned and said, “Ehh, Mommy.  Not too good.”

Even my biggest fan is disappointed.  That is not a good sign.

Da Da Da Da Daaa Da Oof, Ick

I realized yesterday that I have a LOT of work to do over the next two weeks if I am going to “learn” all this music by the time rehearsals start on February 16th.  I say “learn” because when I sat down to work on a couple of these songs last night, it became clear that some of these harmonies are simply impossible and make no logical sense in the realm of musical theory (because clearly I am an expert in musical theory), and so certainly the powers that be will soon realize this as well and just let us all sing in unison.

This is sort of what that realization sounded like, or what I imagine it sounded like to Herbie, sitting in the next room: “Life izzz a ca-buh-ray oh God raaay oh shoot raaay? old chum, come to the- um COME oh crap come to the ca-aa-aaaack oh shit buhhh buh?? BUH! ray ray ray RAY? ray ray?? RAY oh WHAT THE *$&*#&! BWAH-AAAH this makes no SENSE boo hoo hoo… Herbeeee!”

And so on.

Right about the time I started weeping in self-pity, I remembered the conversation I had with my friend Snow White last week.  Telling her about the show and these songs with crazy harmonies, I asked if she remembered much from our time in Mrs. Murphy’s high school choir.  I seemed to recall we sat next to each other.

“Yes,” Snow White said.  “You were always asking me for the right note.”

Oh no.  That sounded very, disturbingly familiar.

But this time, I will not have Snow White to tell me the right note to sing, since a) Snow White is not in the show (a minor detail), and b) I will be the ONLY one singing those particular notes.  I am on my own.

I am screwed.