The Impossible Dream

I'd like to relate a story of what happened to me this past weekend. Unfortunately, a tricky little thing called a non-disclosure agreement was signed, so I find myself wanting to express thoughts about something that really make very little sense out of context. I'll do my best anyway - I've got to get it out.

I went to what was essentially a "cattle-call" musical theatre audition. It was my first experience of the kind, and I really had very few expectations going in. No, wait, that's not entirely true. I did expect that I could handle whatever got thrown at me. I mean, I've been involved in musical theatre for years and years. The major part of the audition was the dance call, and boy, was I in for a shock. Or a treat, it all depends.

Nearly everyone there had some kind of dance training, and many of them were absolutely amazing dancers. I wasn't. In fact, I think it's fair to say that I was the most incompetent dancer there, period. I talked to some of the others who expressed consternation at their lack of dancin' mojo, but I don't think anyone else sucked nearly as much as me. A fact of which I take a certain twisted pride.

It wasn't that way at first, naturally. I'm the type of person who likes a challenge, especially if it's within the realm of things I know I can do. Anyone who was in Jenee Gowing's 2003 movement class at Acadia knows I can be just as much of a dancing fool as I am a singer and an actor. I just need plenty of rehearsal, which this particular situation did not offer me. With probably 80 people or more in the studio, and only a few hours to get through the whole thing - there wasn't time to teach everyone how to actually do the dance they were teaching. Just watch and learn, that was how it went. I was so frustrated.

I met a lot of nice people who were very encouraging. To everyone who told me I could do it, even when I knew that it was pointless, thank you. It made the day a lot better, and it allowed me a sort of Zen acceptance of the fact that I didn't make the cut. There were people who cheered me on when they didn't have to, and I appreciate that even more. A big thank you to everyone.

Here's the thing. I nearly gave up completely. I nearly said to myself, "This is nuts. I'm out of my league, time to go." I didn't. I could hardly stand being in the room, let alone try to dance, but I made the best I could of what I thought was a pretty much impossible situation. My old high school music teacher, Bob Rushton, used to say, "We can never be perfect, but we can always try." As trite as it is, often the effort is more important than success or failure. I stuck with the dancing, and tried to push the thoughts of humiliation out of my mind for long enough to get through it.

I think that I did make the cut, at least the one that really matters. If I hadn't bothered, if I'd left before the end, I would probably have hated myself for it. The whole trip, the whole experience, would have been nothing but a waste of time. Instead, I have not only a healthy sense of self-respect, but a better sense of who I am as an artist and what I want to keep doing. That's pretty fucking cool.