Sunday, March 18, 2012
A couple of weeks ago I took a trip up to the fabric district, which is 38th(ish) and 8th Ave(ish). I was shopping for a large quantity of ribbon. I wanted to take the R home, so I took a long route back to the subway, and walked by a small coffee shop. I happened to glance in, and for no reason whatsoever, it suddenly occurred to me that my theatre life in New York was forever changed because of this small person strapped to my chest.
It was a small shop, situated on a non-nondescript block filled with warehouses and other business that don't have front doors. The kind of block that is prevalent in midtown, which made this coffee shop the exact kind of place I would stop in before an audition. I would have dropped in and used the bathroom, flipped my hair over a couple of times to give it more volume, maybe bought some water if I'd forgotten mine. It was the kind of experience I sort of hated: the errand uptown to an unfamiliar address, the insecurity, the clothes that I'd be slightly uncomfortable and sweating in--probably a blouse instead of a t-shirt.
And I was struck because I missed it. I hated it at the time, and I miss it. And I guess I was surprised because I was so surprised. Of course it's different. I mean, I'm not done, I'll never be done, but it'll be different, like so many other things. I guess I just hadn't gotten around to thinking of it.
But I'm glad, too. Because I've had five years, which, in the grand scheme of things, isn't that long, but, all the same, for five years I did it. I went to auditions when I didn't want to (I never wanted to), I got dressed, gathered by wits, I rehearsed and added new material, I looked up addresses and went to open calls, I got some things, and didn't get a lot of other things.
It's different now. Now I do a month reading series at the Brooklyn Arts Exchange two blocks from my house and call that success--that's different. But, I don't know. Life gets different all the time.