M is for ...

... Memory.

Not quite a year ago I was hit with some pretty crushing disappointment.  While I somewhat remember what it felt like, I don't exactly because how can you?  You can't live with that everyday, you have to let it go and move - sideways, that ways, anyways - ideally, you want to move forward but it really doesn't matter what ways - you just need to move.

Because I write about things now, I reopened my gift of instant recall to take me back to how I felt at that time.  I wanted to relive my memory of how it felt to really FAIL. (http://curiousyetdelicious.blogspot.ca/2012/08/fail.html)

That was absolutely me.  I was sad and disappointed and handled this sadness & disappointment in typical fashion:  I cloaked it in defensive humour and tried to forget about it.  In truth, my audition wasn't that great.  I had so much to learn.  So, I put my head down and went to work.  I lost some confidence along the way, I also lost some of the fun.  I didn't give up.  I wondered what I was doing.  I questioned my motives, my supposed talent and desire.  I sulked.  I almost quit.  Many times.  But I didn't give up.  I liked this too much.  And slowly, along the way, I sort of got my groove back.

Armed with words of wisdom and encouragement, the best of which was "Who gives a fuck, just do it." Last Thursday, I put myself in that room again.  Facing that panel which this time was stacked with four previous teachers.  I mean, really?  The Ghosts of Christmas Past meets American Idol?  All I really wanted was for the general consensus to be an overall "huh. she's getting better."  Really.  That was it.  I'm serious!  Acknowledgement of improvement is the Holy Grail of compliments for me!  Worst case scenario, I didn't want them all to think "wow.  she's really wasting her time."  But you can't think of any of that when it's your turn.  You need to check all your bullshit at the door, clear your head, trust your instincts and be THERE for your scene partner.  Even if your scene partner decides to be a guy with Tourette's.  (I'm sorry.  This was mean and I was really pissed and quite frankly, dude, you are not auditioning for Juilliard.  Tourette's is not an offer. You. Fucking. Jerk. Ah, that felt better.).  You also have to come up with some ideas and show you can make that pan sizzle.  In the end, I was happy.  It wasn't perfect, but in the grand scheme of things I felt pretty good.  Walking out of that room, I thought - no joke - okay, if I don't get it this time it's okay.  I gave 'er.

Well, of course my little Improv Fairytale reaches its epic finale with me getting in.  I got the call yesterday and when I hung up the phone I sat in my office and cried.  I was laughing and crying and my awesome Con Grad co-worker who is now a kick ass broker on Bay Street almost jumped over my desk to congratulate me and and now I know exactly what it will feel like to have Jon Hamm propose to me -  I was so fucking happy you have no idea.  I'm still so fucking happy you have no idea.  Why?  Because it's a big deal?  Well, yeah, I guess.  But more so because I didn't let my big fail get me down.  I didn't recoil into my cave of rejection, quit Improv and take up Zumba.  I stuck with it and it paid off.  It's the beginning of a long hard road of hard work, but it paid off.  I have a start and the knowledge that sometimes things work out. Sometimes you get what you want.  Even me.  Sometimes even I get what I want.  I don't want to forget how I felt last year, though.  I want to savour the memory of failure so I can remind myself that it's not the end.  It only means as much as we let it.  Pick yourself up.  Dust yourself off and GO.  Fucking GO.


M is for Memory.