I’m feeling pretty failuriffic today. I blew an audition last night – really awful. This isn’t my normal picking apart what I do and finding the smallest thing wrong with it to dwell on. Oh no, this was classic scene of failure from a movie. I finished the scene and there was that LONG pregnant pause before one of the three auditors said, “Ok, thank you.”
It wasn’t a part I particularly wanted in a play I didn’t particularly want to do, but this doesn’t help. And sure, it’s good that at least I got out there and auditioned, but that’s also not doing it for me right now. I want to be perfect.
It’s one more thing that I’m really hyper obsessive about. Nothing that I do will ever be good enough. Even these freaking postings take some sort of leap of faith to throw out there. I beat myself up and I obviously like it or I wouldn’t do it.
Not looking for pity, just sort of a little character background for ya. I keep telling myself that this behavior drives me to do better work. But man, I hate this feeling of abject awfulness, that horrid taste of stage dust from falling flat on my face.
Oh, but I did get a full time, non temp gig. So there’s that silver lining that other people talk about.
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9 comments:
Why is it that the most talented people are always the most horrible to themselves about not being enough talented?
If I could admit that I was talented, I would blame my mother. I blame her everything else...
I say at least your doing it and should feel fucking bad ass for that! 90% (of us) get paralized with that feeling that we are gonna fail.
So, do it, feel like shit, but do it.
And I love you
Psssst! ...Don't tell Beth, but I think Hot Pants McGee has a secret crush on you, Bill!!
I do loves the ladies with the hot pants! Unless those hot pants are actually on a guy... Ah, who am I kidding? I also loves the guys in the hot pants.
Essentially, I've got a thing for hot pants.
how bout hot plates? i got one in this hotel room i been stayin in for the past three months. it's sweet!!
I do sort of have a thing for hot plates also. Nothing says hott (that's right, 2 t's hott) like hot plate hotel sex. Hott damn!
We are the sum of our collective experiences, my dearest Billy. Stumble, fall, throw up, rinse, repeat. You are a genius artist, and don't you ever forget it!
Texas-sized man-love,
Chuck
Wow, thanks Chuck. That makes me want to cry a little bit.
Now get your sweet ass back here.
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