I'm becoming an audition machine, which is good and bad -- good because it's becoming natural and easy, but bad because I'm starting to lose that fluttery feeling, the "good" performance anxiety that can be parlayed into some fabulous energy that propells you through the audition. I have a routine now; I have a pump-up song (whose name I cannot reveal because it is an embarrassing pop song) that I listen to on my iPod to get my energy up, I wear the same outfit to every audition, I do my hair the same way. I guess I've accepted the fact that no matter how well I sing or act or look to a panel of judges, I can't control what they think or what they're looking for or how grumpy they are that day. I just bring my A game, sing the hell out of my arias, and move on. I'll find other ways to manufacture the fluttery feeling -- no use getting worked up over things I can't control.
It can be kind of a letdown when you realize, after your first couple of auditions, that you just drove/flew/rode the train all this way to sing for five minutes. I find it's best to try and go with other singer friends who are auditioning or get your significant other to come along. My trip to Cinci for the Pittsburgh audition last November was quite the letdown. I drove for five and a half hours, sang, didn't get called back, and then had an entire evening to kill, by myself in a dull hotel room. I ended up drowning my sorrows in retail therapy (Kate Spade shoes--oh so cute) and a pizza back at the hotel.
This week, I was in Indianapolis auditioning for their Young Artist Program. Luckily this time around, I had a wonderful way to kill the remaininder of my time there -- visiting with my Grandma! My Gram is a fantastic woman, and we have been having a blast together for as long as I can remember. You see, Gram taught me about all the lovely things in life -- shoes, manicures, wine, fancy restaurants, martinis, theater, museums. When I lived in Vienna, Gram came to visit and we spent the most amazing week living like queens and showing Gram the city. My Papa died five years ago, and since then Gram has been on her own. It hasn't been easy for her, but she is a real trooper, and she has a lot of good people as her support system. When I told her I was coming Monday evening for my audition Tuesday afternoon, she immediately made a dinner reservation at Amalfi's, a great Italian place near her house on the Northwest side of Indy.
As soon as I walked in the door of her house, Gram had a glass of Cabernet ready for me and some crackers and cheese. It was 7:35, and our reservation was at 8, but Gram runs on her own time -- and there was ample time for a glass of wine and a chit chat before dinner. At 8:20 we arrived at Amalfi's and were seated immediately. We then proceeded to consume a lot of delicious Sicilian food, a half bottle of Pinot Noir, tiramisu and cappucinos. Our waiter was a young guy who Gram was convinced had a crush on me, which I denied vehemently (last time Gram thought our waiter had a crush on me was when she was visiting Chicago. She kept him chatting at our table for much, much too long; he ended up asking for my number and what resulted was one of the most awkward dates in my history of dating). After dinner, we went home and chatted some more until I felt too exhausted to do anything but collapse in the wondrous king size bed in her guest room.
The next day, my audition wasn't until 2:42, so I slept in, padded downstairs in the "guest robe and guest slippers" to find the coffee pot ready to switch on (Gram was teaching her pre-school class). I drank coffee and watched The View, then began to get ready for my audtiion. Gram came home at noon with lunch from Panera and then she was off to a meeting, so we kissed goodbye and I warmed up and went on my way as well. Unlike most auditions in unfamiliar cities, I knew pretty much where I was going, so the pressure was off to find the venue. The audition went well; I was extremely pleased. Afterward, I got in my car and got back on the road. Three hours later, I was back in Chicago.
I wish all auditions could be like this, but alas, they are not. It was a whirlwind trip, and I've been rather exhausted for the rest of the week. Gram, of course, is convinced that it is in the cosmos for me to get this contract with Indy Opera and come live with her for ten months next year. Lord knows I'd become a wino then.
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3 comments:
Would you live with Gram? Omg, you'd be a spoiled little brat. And a drunk.
oh yeah, your grandma is GREAT. except when she's making you CRY!!!! jeez oh pete that woman can cry.
FYI: Robert came to know grandma during a particularly rough year, the year Papa died. Every time Gram would come to hear me sing at DePauw, she'd say afterward: "Papa would be so proud". Then I'd start crying, she'd start crying, and we'd just be crying in the hallway for 20 minutes after every performance. Yeah...good times.
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