I didn’t get the part. It is Saturday. The Sabbath day. Time to let it rest. It has been 5 days… it is dead. There will be no funeral but I will wear black for the next week. I searched istockphoto for the saddest picture I could find. This is me. A broken man. If by chance you are a Casting Director or a Hollywood Producer… call me. One phone call can change an actor’s life.
The worst part of being an actor is waiting to hear whether or not you got a part. It is agonizing. I had a big audition today and- gulp- I think it went well. Now I am trying not to think about it which is what they tell us we should do. I don’t get it. You have to want a part badly enough to spend hours rehearsing for a 30 second audition. But then you have to be detached enough so that if you don’t get the part, you won’t wallow in a pool of self-deprecating pity. I haven’t figured out how to walk that line…
What makes this even worse is that if you don’t get the part it’s not like you get a phone call letting you know that you didn’t get it. You just don’t hear anything. And sometimes you are still waiting a week later… 2 weeks later. There’s no closure. It’s like being in a relationship with someone when you’re not sure of the status of the relationship. People ask you how that special someone is and you aren’t even sure if they are that special someone. You’re up in the air like George Clooney. It’s awful.
Please pity me. And please don’t ask me if I got the part. Unless I look really really happy. Then you can ask
On second thought… even then. Don’t ask.
So I went for a run today. It was the first time in a while and my legs knew it. The November air was cold and crisp and my lungs were on fire but I loved every minute of it. As I was just coming out of my subdivision I noticed the smashed pieces of a Pumpkin splattered across the sidewalk. ‘”Tis the season” I thought. When I was younger, I would have thought this kind of thing funny. But today I saw it differently.
That pumpkin was on someone’s front porch. Someone took the time to carve it by hand. What gave some hooligans the right to take that pumpkin off of someone’s porch and destroy it? It kind of irked me.
On my way back home I once again saw the brutalized pumpkin laying hopelessly exposed on the sidewalk. I thought about cleaning it up. Then I noticed a boy on his bicycle heading straight towards the largest of the pumpkin remains. I wondered if he didn’t see it- he could fall off his bike if he doesn’t- SPLAT! Bicycle met pumpkin and pumpkin took the worst of it. That’s when I realized- the kid did that on purpose. He was making a mess of the mess on the sidewalk. “What is wrong with these kids?” I asked myself. “Why do they have to make everything worse?”
The kid got off his bicycle. By this time I had stopped running and was doing some anaerobic stretching. I had been running for quite a while… maybe half a mile or so, and I needed to catch my breath. And now I was fascinated by this kid. I watched as he gently put his bicycle down and walked back over to the pumpkin. I wondered what he was up to… The boy began slowly picking up pieces of the pumpkin. “He’s going to smash it even more!” I thought to myself. As I shook my head at the idiocy of the younger generation I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. There was a garbage can not 6 feet away from the pumpkin. This boy was going to put the pieces in the garbage- he was cleaning up the mess!
I can’t begin to tell you how foolish I felt at that moment. Here I was, a 30-year old man, condemning this child and his whole generation, when it was he, and not I, who was taking the time to clean the mess he saw. I smiled. I was happy to be wrong in my judgment. I watched until he held most of the sloppy remains in his hands. Then he did a most peculiar thing- he lifted up the pumpkin pieces high above his head. I wondered what in the world he was- SPLAT!! The boy smashed the pumpkin on the ground and began jumping on the broken pieces with a look of sheer joy smeared over his flushed face.
Sometimes I just wish I was wrong…