The In-Between

I will never have kids. Unless some horrible, unseen, atrocious act of Lucifer occurs, my womb will remain barren. And by my womb, I mean the tiny one (maybe two) room apartment that I am destined to have for the rest of my life. I know that some of you are gasping in horror, because your children are the apple of your eye and you couldn't imagine your life without those little bundles of....umm....joy. And that is why God gave each of us our own free will.

Oh, what is that you ask? Have you been working with children lately, and that is why you have this abundance of hatred for them? Yes.

Okay. I don't hate kids. I just don't want to have anything to do with them. Or maybe I'm just scared of a challenge. I'm not sure yet. For now, I'll just think that children and I are like beer and hard liquor - the common denominator being that terrible consequences ensue. I've come to the conclusion that I blame my track record. I have consistently had the blessing of working with immensely talented people who can, well, do things that require talent and training. Now I am faced with a gaggle of six-year-olds that can't read. WHAT, I ask you, am I supposed to do with that? I mean, those Zombie Prom kids were not only (for the most part) all triple threats, but they were (for the most part) legitimately cool cats too. And the ones that weren't were nerdy, but the kind of nerdy that is useful and actually takes you far in life. I like that kind of nerdy. Here is an example of my plight:

*A scene from one of my rehearsals two weeks ago....
Andy: No, no, no. You have to wait another measure and a half before you come in.
Six-year-olds: (blank stares)
Andy: You know, like six quarter notes. Beats. Six beats. Alright. Lets clap it out.
Six-year-olds: (a few yawns and general chattiness)
Andy: Okay fine. Just wait longer before you come in.
Six-year-olds: (blank stares, yawns, chattiness and one of them is picking their nose.)

Okay. I am not an elementary teacher. Nor would I ever strive to be, and as stuck up and snobbish as it sounds, six-year-olds are not talented enough to be in theater. (gasps, I'm sure). And that's not the only problem. They have NO attention span. My sister's beta fish, Rafael can have more engaged interactions with me than some of these munchkins.

Alright, that was a very broad overstatement. There are a select few six-year-olds that could school me in theater, but they are few and far between. And I usually cross to the other side of the street when I see them coming in order to avoid a diva smackdown. But I digress. This will be the LAST children's theater show I do......until I forget why I made that rule....and then I'll do another one and be quickly reminded of the reasons for my decree.

Updates. Had a big audition today with a regional company that most people would give their left nut to work for (myself included). Unfortunately, they didn't think it was amusing when I offered up that suggestion. Apparently they're only interested in talent. Whatever. I got a e-call for this G&S operetta that they are putting up next year and I promptly dropped the notice into my e-trash. After about 4 seconds of re-contemplating this choice, I retrieved the said e-call and put it on my calendar.

The reason: I don't do opera. Why would the want me to come sing for an opera? They KNOW I don't do opera. I've had lengthy conversations with the powers that be at this company as to "why I am throwing away my classical vocal education to pursue the lesser art of musical theatahh". As if I haven't had to argue THAT one before. Fine. Whatever. I looked through my books and cursed myself for having torched all of my "Arias for ______" books in a blind rage during my junior year of college. Kidding. They're useless to me anyway. Oh well. I picked "On the Street Where You Live" from My Fair Lady for the audition. I figured it wasn't Rent, so I could probably get away with it.

Fast forward to the audition today. I'm sitting in an immense rehearsal studio with forty other guys all carrying the "Arias for_______" books. And doing their little scales and arpeggios. At least this wasn't a dance audition. Then I would look REALLY dumb. So I sat in one of the corners and began to read my book. During this time, I overheard people saying that they would be singing arias that ranged from the traditional G&S stuff all the way up to one guy who was going to sing Nessun Dorma from Turandot. He might as well have done an angry line reading...its probably just as effective.

So everyone has filled out their forms and settled in to wait for the auditions to start when the musical director walks in.

On a side note, I am maybe a little obsessed with this music director they have. He is literally a genius, and I do not throw that term around lightly. He can play ANYTHING you put in front of him and is a musical theater coach to everybody who is anybody in the Twin Cities. I'm not sure whether I want to be able to work with him or I want to be him. I just have a lot of feelings about him and I am not ashamed to say that I actively stalk him. I mean, not in the creepy, I'm-going-to-kidnap-him-and-eat-his-liver-with-some-fava-beans-and-a-nice-chiante kind of way, but in the I-just-really-admire-your-career kind of way. Did I mention that he has music directed in New York? On Broadway?

Sorry. Rambling. So he walks in and announces that they will not be approaching the music in the traditional, classical way, but in a way that "appeals to an audience in 2011." In other words, they wanted a pop/rock influenced audition.

THIS is why they sent me this call! I watched the color drain from the face of the Turandot guy. Clearly you can't turn Puccini into Jonathan Larson. I don't care who you are. Unfortunately, "On the Street Where You Live" isn't exactly what they were looking for either. Eh. I sang it anyway. I just channeled a little of Jon Groff and Matt Doyle. It was fine. I acted the crap out of it and then I drove an hour through rush hour for the final dress rehearsal of the Grinch.

And thus, as of ten days from now, I will be in "the in-between". A time between theater jobs. While normally I would dread this, it will come at a perfect time. My sister comes home from the Dominican Republic in two weeks and the holidays are just around the corner, so a little down time with some lessons here and there will be a fantastic way to spend a few weeks. I know I must enjoy it now because I am already triple booked in the spring and I couldn't be more excited for it. But until then, its Christmas carols and catching up on Glee. Not too shabby. Not to shabby at all.

And this entry is a perfect example of the fact that I have never actually learned to write a cohesive anything. If you have muddled your way through this and have reached this sentence, congrats. You are a champ in my eyes.

Onward and.....well, onward. And no beige.

A