because i definitely could have filled your glasses last week.
the tears.
they. would. not. stop.
last wednesday marked my biggest audition to date.
a soap.
a soap i had watched as i child with my mom, characters that were an integral part of my adolescence (my body image/self-esteem/formulation of marital relationships). it’s no wonder i’m on the couch once a week.
for auditions, usually i give myself an extra 45 minutes of time to allow for traffic, but for this one i padded an hour.
cut to the 405 freeway, 4 accidents, and 2 hours and 51 minutes later.
screeching my way onto the lot, i parked my car, and did my best chi-sprint through the studio {even though they wanted me camera ready glamour puss}.
i raced pass two big time stars lighting up prime time.
{i secretly hoped they’ll soon be saying hi to me in the halls}
i got up to the 3rd floor, anaerobic, folded in half catching my breath.
looking in the mirror:
the run actually has done nice things for my cheeks, and given my pretty wind-blown hair.
score!
with a breathy voice (not fake fortunately) i walked into reception, gave them my name and character i’m reading for.
right away my stomach sinks. the sweet receptionist gives me the look the farmer’s hand gives the pig right before the sow goes to slaughter.
giant footsteps come up behind me and mr casting director comes out from the office.
what time was your appointment? he asks {the tone so bitter you couldn’t even sugar it up with a semi sweet chocolate chip).
9:45 i answer and then pathetically offer up my headshot and resume.
yeah, well it’s 9:52? you should have been here no later than 9:45. we’re already done.
and with that he spins around on his $400 converse sneaker, leaving my headshot in my outstretched beggar hand, and slams the office door.
if i wanted to be in the movies; this certainly felt like one.
so i did what the rejected actress would do in this scene:
i cried.
i cried, and cried, and cried.
i cried in starbucks. i cried in my car. i cried at The Grove. i cried in Nordstrom (although i always cry at Nordstrom-that place makes me crazy).
i cried in yoga.
i cried in the arms of my dear hunky hubby who said all the right supportive and encouraging things.
i’ve had the sweetest support around me, and i’m not discouraged (well maybe a little).
i know the whole when one door closes (and boy did it ever..right in my face) another one opens.
today i’m working on opening that next door.
i just have to get rid of these puffy eyes first.
this makes me mad.
i'm never going to use soap again.
what a small man.
xoxo. and i'm sorry for your tears.
Bastard!!! I hope spinning on those converse gave him a blister.
KO, that is terrible!!! There is going to be something better around the corner.
xoxo
*big hugs*
xoxo
no words…except bastard {to HIM and LA traffic}.
AND ~ Wish I was there for you to cry on my shoulder for hours and hours…and then I could add some fresh crisp cucumbers to your beautiful eyes and let the puffiness fade away as we finally regain the spirit of 'opening' another door.
I believe in you.
Just a beautiful sign that bigger things are on the horizon. I believe in everything happens for a reason…maybe it's because you are suppose to on the big screen and not in our living rooms in the afternoon – hee hee. My attempt at a joke. I felt your pain though and every tear.
I hate the 405 and especially if your coming from OC…it's a nightmare, there are a few short cuts off the 405 for the studios…which studio was it?
🙁
OH MY GOD!!! Katie that is terrible! I am sorry. I just know something fabulous will come your way!
xoxo
Awww, I'm sorry Katie!! I was crying on more than one occasion last week too!!! Probably the second half of the half-empty glasses =( BUT according to my other friend Katy (yes, Perry) after a hurricane comes a rainbow!! Yours is the green part and mine the pink…ok, now I'm rambling…maybe ill get a blog. haha! XoXo See u in am!
Katie I'm missed so much being in my 'hole' in this part of the U.S. I can't imagine going through that experience. I"m not thick skinned & I would of been sobbing myself silly & likely into the following week. You are a resilient soul & like you said yet another door will open; a really BIG door!
Sending you lots of holiday cheer & a big box of tissues. xo xo Deb
I understand your tears, the 405 and make room on that couch for me.