Curtain call...

I often lie in bed on a Sunday night, helplessly enervated from the weekends ungovernable antics, and wonder if I even had a weekend, or if it was merely a passing dream – a fleeting moment of unwinding splendour that never actually happened. Because it never feels like it did. The last thing I can ever remember is Friday, leaving work, thinking 'It's the weekend!!' Then black. And then there I lie, in bed, on Sunday, with bruises, bags under my eyes, severe dehydration and an unwillingness to fall asleep as this means I must wake up for work the following morning.

This has become a common occurrence. The weekend is too fast. Luckily this weekend was rather relaxed. The one part that really stood out was my audition to be in Fiddler on the Roof at Artscape. It went something like this:

It was hot outside but that was the least of my worries. My incontrollable sudor was more a result of the fact that when the next lady walked out those big swinging doors it would be my turn. The four people before me had all had gorgeous, mellifluous voices and had all got 'the nod' to go through to the second round. My hands trembling, I stared relentlessly at the piece of music before me, trying to remember the words to the chorus of 'Sunrise, Sunset', relaying the melody over and over in my head. 

The doors opened. She walked out, a smile plastered to her face. 

'I'm in!' 

'Well done,' I respond, not so convincingly.

'Good luck,' she adds.

I walk through the doors, not really sure what to expect. The room is monumental. Surround by mirrors. The Artscape Rehearsal Room. A long table with a panel of five men and women, smiling 'sweetly' yet mildly condescendingly, watch me sidle towards their table.

'Hi, I'm Jessica. I'm trying for one of the daughters in the chorus.'

'Hi Jessica. Won't you stand there in the centre of the room and wait for the pianist.'

I wait. She begins playing, and I sing. At this point I have little or no memory as to what happened during these four lines of song, aside from a brief flashback of some form of theatrical hand gesture (see picture below). Suddenly it was over. Nothing in the room had changed and the panel was smiling pleasantly at me. With a nod they said, 'Thank you, Jessica. We'll see you for the second round of auditions in room 308, please.'

'What, really? NO WAY! No waaaaaay!' I wanted to scream. I didn't, of course. But I raced out and bounced down the corridor to the next room.

The next two hours were spent learning a new song and deciding on whether you were more comfortable with alto or soprano. In fours (one tenor, one bass, one alto and one soprano), you then sang before a room of 70 people, in character of a villager from Anatevka – the fictional town in Russia. This was followed by a very simple Russian dance routine. 

I'm waiting to hear, and certainly not expecting a positive response. But I'm not too fussed. Just to have had the unforgettable experience of the terrifyingly ruthless audition process was enough to keep me reeling for a while, and I certainly won't stop there. Being back in that environment of stage, nerves, make-up, costumes, excitement.. has simply refuelled my desire to be back on stage – dancing, singing and acting... I'll get there somehow. 

Ballet classes start this week. Woooooo