So, all two and half people who read this blog know that come March my schedule is going to free up a bit. By "a bit" I mean that CCI is kicking me to the curb and the only life that I've had for a long time is going to end. I'm one of those people who carries the belief/hope/delusion that when God closes a door, he opens a window. So when I heard that "Glee" is holding open casting calls to fill three slots in its second season I thought that maybe I had found the window for which I was searching. This is a big leap of faith for me. I don't personally feel like I have any talent whatsoever and that generally I'm a big waste of space. I do certain things, such as singing, because I like to, not because I'm good at them. Same with cooking. I tell myself I'm awesome every single day in the hopes that maybe that one time I'll actually believe it.
Now comes the audition tape. I'm at a loss for this. I've done auditions before. I know the kind of thing I have to do. I know I need to sing and I know that I need to act. I have two monologues chosen, one is dramatic and one is comedic. Both involve me being gay. Is that a bad thing? Should I really just wear it on my sleeve like that? I mean, let's be honest, it's not like I can hide it. I've tried. Erratic can attest to that. She saw right through me. The song, I have no clue what I want to sing. Suggestions are welcome. Why do I fail so hard?
Oh, and the reason I'm awesome? I'm doing this. That has to count for something, right? Worst come to worse I go back to culinary school and pretend to be awesome there.
You know what? Wear it on your sleeve and be proud. If Erratic saw right through you, chances are other people will too (I would have, had I met you before reading what you write).
ReplyDeleteAs for the song, I'll try to come up with something. Just don't do "All That Jazz." Snore.
So, I keep trying to comment on this from my phone and FAIL. Fucking phone. But I remembered! At a computer! I succeed at life. Yeah, that's right.
ReplyDeleteFirst of all...are you referring to me as 1 1/2 people because of the boobs? I feel like you might be...and I am OK with it. If not, I would like to meet your very tiny friend. They will make me feel tall. Maybe they can take my boobs?
Second, for reals, I hear you sing day in and day out. Literally. All the fucking time. You are amazing and charismatic and you shake your hips like all gay boys should. If I knew anything about music that was not everything you hate, I would try to help here...so I am going to invoke the gay mafia (ELTON IS A GO!) and have them help out here.
You're welcome. When you become famous, send me money. Or at least gin.