Last night, the Shakespeare company I’ve decided to try and audition for posted their sides up on their website, meaning that I have about a week to put together a video and submit it.

On top of that, another company announced auditions for THEIR season, and I really like both the shows and their dedication to education in schools, so I have decided to submit to both and see what happens.

Here’s the kicker: both companies are about, give or take, 20 hours away from here in opposite directions.

It shouldn’t be too hard of a process (the sides for the first company are from Titus–I have them mostly memorized anyway, and the second company’s audition is in a week, giving me more than enough time to prepare a 3-minunte monologue) but for some reason, I have this weird apprehension about it.

20 hours? I’d be a day away, in a different time zone, away from everyone and everything I love. No Whitey’s, no Blue Cat, and no Prenzies.

I know, fully and completely deep down, that if I were to submit my video/rock my audition and either company called me next month, I would pack up everything (with apologies to my Complete Works cast) and head out, hell, I’ve been looking up the closest hotels on Expedia for an hour now, but thinking about leaving everything behind to do something I really, really want to do is so weird.

Part of me feels like a traitor. Part of me feels like everything about the choice is right.

And it’s stupid, really, because this is contingent on about a thousand other things happening, none of them in my control.

One company is hiring 3 females, and that’s it– and while I have complete faith in my ability to rock my audition, there are probably more than 3 qualified females in a 4-state area vying for this job. And let’s face it– I’m not your traditional “ingenue”. My thought process is still tied so heavily to the idea of non-traditional/gender blind casting that it’s weird for me to have to turn that off and realize that I actually might have to look the part. Hell, no matter how awesome my audition is, it could come down to hair length or height (or,yes, weight) or any other combination of factors that have nothing to do with my ability to memorize a 3 minute monologue.

I don’t understand why I’m so freaked out. I lived in England, by myself (well, Abby was there, but I am confident that I could make at least ONE friend at either theatre) and it was an adventure the entire time. New things to do and see and try, and now, I’m basically faced with the same decision–for a much shorter period of time–and I’m still nervous.

Last night, it occured to me that I may have gotten comfortable. Being comfortable is grand and beautiful, but at the same time, I’ve spent the better part of my “grown up” life preaching about adventure and hope and everything exciting and beautiful about life, and here I am stressing because I might not see my friends for four months.

That’s dumb, Catie. That’s dumb.

I think it’s because I know how much I want it, to be able to say “I did this, I succeeded and now I am doing what I want to do”, but there is this huge part of me that knows that means putting everything I’ve worked for on the line, putting it in someone elses hands and saying “Judge me. Pick me. I’ve earned this”.

And in a way, I feel like maybe that’s what’s so hard.

Last night, I was working on one of my monologues in front of a mirror, and I had that dark, dark part of my most ugly and negative soul reared its ugly head and whispered “Wow, that’s what your face looks like when you act, and you’re going to go to a professional audition in Chicago and expect them to want to hire you? What are you, crazy?”

Well, maybe.

But I’m still going to go to the audition. I’m still going to try.

Maybe it will be an absolute disaster. Maybe it will be amazing. I have already accepted that the chances of actually getting a callback are really slim.

That’s okay.

But just going– doing it, showing up at an audition and having the confidence to present my work and myself to strangers who could potentially hire me, is something that I need to do for myself. I’ve spent so long telling myself that I’m not good enough– I don’t think that’s my place anymore. I’m not exactly objective. I have to live with my insecurities every day.

I think it’s time that I at least give myself the chance before I dismiss it.

And that, really, is the least I can do.

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