The High of Being #359

By Luke Durling

Yesterday, I had the most exhilarating experience of the past few months. I, in a room full of seasoned professionals, sang a song I didn’t fully know.

And I sucked. 😆 

I missed cues, stumbled on lines and was just generally confused. 

So why the heck did I come out of that room with the biggest rush of spirit I have had in a while? 

Because it was my first time ever, I knew I was gonna be horrible and yet I tried it anyway. Damn, it felt good, I was in the room with 12 smiling people, some of which I knew for years, some who I had just seen seconds before and will probably never see again, and I was an absolute trainwreck with a smile on his face. It is strange even to me how calm I was, even though I was doing so poorly. 

But let’s back up a little bit. When I arrived at the theatre, I sat in a room, typically a box office/gift shop to the right of a long, narrow foyer while the auditions took place in the bar on the left side, doors closed for privacy, or as much privacy as could be given. In the foyer, there was a table to sign up and be given a sticker with a number. The number I wore proudly was #359. I doubt they had quite 300 people before me, but I can’t deny they didn’t. 

When I arrived, the waiting room was filled with 20-25 off the most nervous people I have ever seen. Not only did they paw over sheet music and binders (which made me realize even more about how woefully unprepared I was), they either stared blankly at the wall, floor or phone with sweat slowly beading in the subtlest corners of the forehead, or discussed things with their friends they either came with or found there In a furor of wistful support, yet twinges of panic. Friends new and old talked to each other like they were going to a 1-minute prison sentence, but with the certainty of parole.

I tried to talk to a couple of them, but they either were in a preparatory trance or simply smiled at the new guy in a wheelchair, seemingly unsure of what to say to this outsider or with the ability to only respond, not speak. Honestly, I understood completely. I was sweating and prepping myself, even though I didn’t really know how. I was doing my scales for the first time in years and stretching as if it wasn’t enough I didn’t have anything prepared. I felt like an odd observer, watching the pros and just being in awe. These people were professionals and they were twice as stressed as I was. How ironic. Beginner’s ignorance has its perks, apparently. 

I wish it was the opposite in a way. These wonderful, creative people around me didn’t deserve that kind of self-applied pressure. They should have been tons more confident than my naive self should have been. Now, I’m not saying that any artist shouldn’t take their craft seriously. Our passions dictate our reality in ways we don’t always fully understand or can seemingly control. It’s amazing to find and long for anything that sets our soul ablaze, but the fire is only a part of our whole soul and can eat us alive if we try too hard. I want a part, too. I want a chance, a shot, a key to a community of like-minded people who can possibly become friends. I look at my phone and hope, by some merciful miracle, I get a callback. However, I know in my heart of hearts that I did the absolute best I could do at the time. I know that probably won’t be good enough. I know that even if I tried a little bit harder in the future, it still might not be enough. However, that’s okay with me. I tried, I know what I must do if I want to try again, and if not then I’ll live. 

We put ourselves in boxes we don’t need to be in, see ourselves as numbers that never get called. We are so much more than these things. We are people who can sing and dance with reckless abandon. We can do art as much as we can science, paperwork, factory work or whatever else we need or desire. When we do try something new, we can suck and still laugh on our way out of the room with an applause behind us. 

I am a lot more than #359, and I’m so proud to have been.

Let’s see what the next number will be…