(Source: , via inemptyhallways)
As my first audition is now mere days away, I’m starting to panic. This time last year I auditioned for ALRA, and it was the first drama school I’d auditioned for where I got through all the rounds, and eventually was given a place on the waiting list, I then went on to get through all the rounds at Italia Conti, followed by an offer for the foundation course that I was unable to accept for financial reasons.
This was then followed by my auditions at Guildhall, Central and RCS, where I wasn’t as successful and was sent away with the majority of the heart broken right at the first round.
My non-thespian friends and family don’t seem to understand how I can keep going, how I find the strength to go back after being rejected and say “I’m trying for you again, this is what I can do, please believe me… Please believe in me.”
Yes, I’ll admit it’s hard to find the motivation to go back, in front of the same faces, and do it all again, jumping through an entire circus of hoops, becoming animals, colours, singing long forgotten songs and reciting lines not in my own langauge and bring the imagination of a stranger to life, with absolutely no aid in the way of costume, props or other actors.
It’s really fucking hard, there’s no denying it, you just have to be in a room of other actors and sense the atmosphere of fragile egos and people begging for the spotlight to realise what we’re forcing ourselves through is damaging. It’s painful to be told no week after week, to be told what you’re doing isn’t enough, or you’re not being “real”, you’re too nice, too bitchy, too this, too that. That you’re lion didn’t walk the correct way, or your harmony of that song was flat, or that your attempt at Lady Macbeth was beyond laughable.
I’m my own worst critic, just as we all are. I don’t have an instrument to perfect, I don’t have a sciene to learn, I can’t just read and copy a book to pass. I have to give myself 100%, 100% of the time. All I have is my mind and my body. I have chosen to become a professional.
A professional human being.
Without a doubt, I know, in myself, I can do it. As a little girl - like most - I dreamt of nothing but being the star of my own show, of being an inspiration to others, of showing them that yes, it can be done, that dreams can become real.
So I owe a homage to that long forgotten little girl. I was very lonely growing up, travelling around and forever being the new kid at school, so I spent a lot of time using my imagination and inventing new worlds to live in. I spent a lot of time believing in magic.
I still do believe in magic. I believe in the beauty of illusion, of fooling your peers that what you’re doing is real. Shedding your own sweat, blood, and tears in the mind of someone else, in the world of someone else, in the words of someone else. That’s magic. Making some ink on paper come to life, successfully, is beautiful.
On the night I went to see Rob Drummond’s Bulletcatch, I was the volunteer. One part of the show had Rob show the audience a floating table, something that I was holding, something that completely fooled me. I was enchanted by this floating table. So when Rob said he was now going to reveal the mechanic behind the floating table, he turned to me and asked if I would watch while he revealed the trick. I said yes. He asked me why.
"Because I believe there’s more magic in the human mind that created this."
Rob told me that was the most interesting answer he’d ever had to the question, and I could see his excitement that I’d voiced his own belief.
As a little girl my parents kept me in a bubble, told me I was beautiful, paraded me around in pretty dresses for others to awe and clap. They fully instilled in me that I can be whatever I want, that I could even conquer the world if I wanted to.
I’m bursting that bubble. I’m going to give a middle finger to the connotations attached to dreams, the end of the rainbow, the world that only exsists in the mind. I’m going to make my dream, my reality.
I’m not going to be told no any longer.
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore (via timefliestoday)
Haruki Murakami (村上 春樹), “Sputnik Sweetheart” (via koreyan)