Can we talk for a second about how much I hate auditions? Because that’s how long it’s going to take to tell you I fucking hate auditions. I have this tendency to disregard the fact that I’m actually a moderately talented person, preferring to believe that I’m just awful at everything, acting and acting-related things especially. It’s really more fun that way, mostly because on the two or three occasions that I’ve been wrong, I appreciate it all the more. No matter that it’s a completely self destructive way to perceive things, of course.
See, today, I’m finally doing that whole auditioning for Midsummer (and an Irish play, but you and I both know what I’m gunning for) thing. I’ve been pretty confident about the bitch for most of the summer, which - as per usual - has died an ugly, ugly death in the past 48 hours, then got dug back up and drawn and quartered like Oliver Cromwell in the past 12. All of a sudden, I’m dead set that I won’t even get called back, and I’ll have to go back to VCU and tell everyone there that I couldn’t even get cast in shows here. Then I’ll be an embarrassment to myself and my breed, and small children and dogs will be afraid of me, and I’ll never get laid again. Vicious cycle. In times such as these, I turn to Fancy Pants to bring be back up to a reasonable level of pre-audition actorness, a special kind of cocky largely unknown to the outside world. Here is the text I recieved not long ago:
“Ahhhh! You won’t! Remember: you went to an art school. Two in fact! Both of which required an audition! [redacted] Not to mention that you have the English language by the balls.”
You know what? Yeah!
…right?
August 2010
12 posts
Fun things in ANTH 2400:
The Mayans believe in something called “mutil o’tan”, which is a little bird that lives in your heart. Kind of reminds me of a song I know…
Interconnected Reasons Why I Hate Myself for August 18, 2010
1. I’m in the process of packing for UVA, and in so doing have had to open up boxes from my apartment that I haven’t been near since I moved out. Some of the things I’ve seen, touched, smelled have made my stomach drop because I could see, feel, smell the way it was last year, and I miss it so much I could claw out of my skin. Which, of course, would be sort of counterproductive and weird, but you’ve all figured out by now how much I love hyperbole.
2. I told Fancy Pants that part of why I’m having such a difficult time with all of this is because he gets to go be with my friends and I don’t. Which is true, but damn.
3. I’m more excited to go to Richmond on Monday than I am to move to Charlottesville on Saturday. Which is just fucking AWFUL.
On Facebook, someone I’m friends with posted a status asking how the name “Jecyca” might be pronounced. After about 5 seconds of thought, I figured that this poor girl’s parents decided to play fast and loose with the name Jessica.
After about 5 more seconds, I realized that I have to get out of the inner city if it is the last thing I do.
I’m just gonna start addressing every letter I ever send to anyone “LOOK BITCH.”
On my car, I have a window cling that just says “The University” - here in the Commonwealth, pretty much everyone’s going to know what you’re talking about, and they’re also going to know you’re a total dick for referring to it as such. I figured the best way to pay tribute to my recent past as a self-loathing Ram would be to ironically pick that as my UVA car thing of choice.
A couple of minutes ago, the mail came, and in it was a letter to me from the College of Arts and Sciences. The letter was basically a pep rally in written word form; you know, “HEY GUESS WHAT GUESS WHAT! YOU’RE GONNA BE HERE SOON, AND GUESS EVEN WHAT-ER! THIS IS THE BEST FUCKING SCHOOL IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD AND WHEN YOU GRADUATE, YOU’RE GONNA GET A SIX FIGURE SALARY AND MORE ASS THAN A TOILET SEAT! EXCITED YET?!” But that’s not the point. The point is that the letter came with a sticker that’s a giant orange V with “The College” written across it in blue.
That’s right. I got a sticker from The University that says The College.
I hope you’re all aware this is going on my car…that is, after I get it back from the shop once they’ve painted “THE CAR” in big orange and blue letters across the hood.
De-privatized a note on March 28, because it really couldn’t matter less. It will not shock those who know, it will not faze those who don’t, it slices, it dices, and it juliennes. Go diggin’ if you feel so inclined.
