Sitting in my third period class, I try to cover my nervousness by joining in the laughter at the Info Flow pack announcing the Thespian Club tryouts for the one act performances. Watching the two mock auditions get torn apart by the judges, I pretend that I think the video as funny as everyone else. The announcement ends and the class begins, but I can't seem to ignore the butterflies that have been filling my stomach. The butterflies could only come from one thing. Today will be the day I overcome all my worries and anxieties and subject myself to the judgment of my director peers.
I get through the rest of the day by not thinking about my impending embarrassment and focusing on more important things like. . .well there's. . .ok, so I couldn't think of anything but my impending embarrassment.
Slipping into the auditorium a couple minutes late, I choose a seat quickly and listen to the directors explain how the auditions will work. One try out will count as an audition for any of the four one-acts; Cover Up, Just Blood, No Exit and Untitled.
But first there is practice. All of the students leave the auditorium to divide off into groups and choose a scene to perform. After grabbing two scripts and a friend to perform with, I'm one step closer to standing on stage. I practice my scene over and over, driving my friend crazy and somehow not making myself any less nervous. In fact, every time we go over the scene I become more and more anxious. I picture reading these very same words in an auditorium empty except for a group of students who have turned into the most intimidating people I've ever met; student directors Lilah Shreeve, Jojo Ruf, Anna Horne, Griff Rees and Dani Prados.
I hear someone telling me that my group is up next and I find myself taking a deep breath and walking toward the auditorium doors. I achieve a strange sense of calm that lasts until about the time I see the four directors sitting near the front of the audience. After handing them my audition form, I walk up on stage and try to retain something close to calm waiting for them to say "begin."
Realizing I have the first line, I frantically beg my friend to switch parts with me. After some encouragement from her, I resign myself to starting the scene. Nervously, I rush through lines I practiced carefully before and speak lines I should be shouting. When the audition ends I walk out the door, glad that it's finally over. I think of all the things I could have done better.
Two days later I start to wonder when the call-backs will be posted. With various reports of how long it might take, I don't really know what to expect. At lunch, I search frantically to find out if I will get the chance to be in a one act.
I rush to the callback board in the Renaissance hall next to the choral room. There, buried between West Side Story announcements is a letter from the Thespians Club. I barely skim it before checking the list underneath. I must have not done so bad after all. One more nerve-racking audition, and I finally might be making my first appearance on Blair's stage. I made call-backs!
Laura Blythe-Goodman. Laura is a senior this year. In her spare time, she learns how to play the guitar and talks to Emma. More »