Audition Log 2/11/11 - The Opposite End of the Spectrum

Let me first say Congratulations to Egypt! You inspire and remind us all that not only do the people still have a voice, but that voice is stronger than any weapon.

Today's audition log is a bit of a downer, but with amazing things like Egypt's liberation happening in the world, how can one be sad?

Today's audition was for Sacramento Music Circus. I've been to Sacramento Music Circus auditions a few times already. In Sacramento, mind you, but I thought I had a pretty good understanding of what was going to happen; once I made it to the final round of cuts (with West Side Story choreography, no less), another I was cut immediately. In my mind Sacramento auditions went like this: we were going to sign in, there was going to be tons of people, we would all do a ballet combo then cuts were to be made, then a jazz combo, then more cuts, then perhaps another jazz combo or a tap combo or something specific to a particular show they were doing (this year they had Anything Goes so I was pretty sure they were going to have a tap combo), then more cuts, then maybe another round of dance, then they would thank everyone and ask a few people to sing. In my experience, that's how Sacramento Music Circus auditions went.

This was nothing like that. At all.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

I had heeded my own advice and taken a shower/shaved the night before, though I almost forgot. When I woke up in the morning, I was not surprised to find out once more that there was no hot water. So, I've come to the conclusion that the night before is my preparation time.

Speaking of, I prepared all of my music/headshot/resume stuff the day before the audition, not the night; I even packed my bag at a reasonable time. This saved me from having to stay up all night getting it ready. Er go, I got to sleep at a decent hour.

Sleep was, however, stilted (if not interrupted) by the odor of the kitchen wafting into my room. One of my roommates had made what was probably a delicious garlic mashed potato/vegetable medley dinner (they're really good cooks). Sometimes, though, they don't clean up right away (If you're my roommate and you're reading this, I'm sorry but it's true! Sometimes I'm even culpable) This odor was so strong that I could smell it in my room. I think that, plus the very early time of sleep, led me to lay there for awhile without actually achieving ReM. I don't know how this would be prevented, I surely can't ask my roommates to not cook on nights before I have auditions, but it's something to point out.

THE MORNING

I woke up at 6 am. The audition was at 10, I wanted to get there at 8, so I decided to wake up at 6. It wasn't hard, though. I was quite refreshed and raring to go when the alarm went off.

I had some plain oatmeal and added some raw sugar plus some chai tea with a little raw sugar in it, as well. This is a fine breakfast meal for me, especially during mornings when my nervousness could lead my stomach to jump in a million directions. The chai, however, did upset me for a good twenty. This was before I even left the place, and I feel it only irked my system because I had too much too fast, but nevertheless I think I'm going to portion the amount of non-water beverages for next time. Also, I was feeling a little hungry at around audition time, so I think I'm going to pack some protein bars, as well. Better safe than...not, I guess.

I like to take my time in the mornings. I think mornings are my favorite time of day; just you and a cup of tea or coffee, peaceful, its your time before the business of the day controls it. That being said, I don't like to rush them. I feel if you rush your mornings your whole day is going to feel rushed; the opposite is also the case. But, I think I might have had TOO much time this morning. I was just sitting there...after finishing all my morning routines. I guess too much time is better than none at all. I'll stick with this audition routine for awhile. See how it goes.

THE COMMUTE

No problems on the subway. Got there with enough time to catch the train I wanted to take. Probably 'cause I had so much time before.

This audition was held at Chelsea Studios, which is obviously in Chelsea. It took a little longer to get to than the previous audition (since that was in midtown), but not by much. It was still roughly 30 minutes.

After getting off the subway, I still had a few of blocks left to go. Of course I walked (what else was I supposed to do?) but I like walking. The weather was especially nice and brisk, so it wasn't a hassle at all. A joy, even.

My mood was up and down all morning, so I decided to listen to some uptempo, dance music. And what better dance music than Michael Jackson; after the last glee episode, I was really into P.Y.T. (go ahead, commence with the judging stares. ... Okay, are we done? Can we get back to the story?). Didn't have that song for reason, though, so I put "Rock With You," which is perhaps my favorite all-time MJ song. And it did the trick. I was bopping and grooving down the street, my mood changed from nervous and reticent to confident and energetic. This is a no-brainer but lesson learned: always have good, upbeat music handy at an audition.

THE PRE-AUDITION

The audition was on the sixth floor, so I hit the elevator button and rode up. I rode up with a gentleman who went to the second floor and an architecture building. It's always nice to see other things and people in a building besides acting; it gives perspective.

The Chelsea Studios had a cleaner, open quality to it than the other studio (called the Nola Studios). Not to say the Nola Studios were dirty, but they felt very old-timey whereas the Chelsea Studios were almost space-agey (I'm using very precise dictionary-defined terms; you're welcome). The Nola Studios listed their studios on a chalk-board; the Chelsea had every room nicely labeled and an attendant to help with whatever you needed. And don't get me started on Chelsea's weird, contemporary desk...thing. Very cool, but I don't know how practical it is.

The holding area for the audition was four doors to the left of where I entered from (as told to me by the very helpful attendant working there). It was similar to the Nola studio except a little bit bigger. Not large, in my estimation, but large-ish. Medium large, if you'll take my very scientific measurements. Again, it had chairs lining three of the walls and two rows of chairs in the middle. It was a dance room dolled up to look like a waiting room. The time was only 8, but I still felt that, like last time, a fury of people were going to be there already.

1 person was there before me. Again, just like last time, the imagined crowd was not so much.

I feel this has more to do with the notion of equity versus non-equity. Equity can just show up whenever and they have to be seen; non-eq have to show up early to sign-in and even then they might not be seen that day. Again, it didn't matter that I was there early; I wanted to warm up.

The men's dressing room was a floor below us, so I took the stairs. Boy oh boy, these babies were steep! It felt a lot like Vertigo, save for the beautiful Kim Novak.

This men's dressing room was, in fact, a dressing room. Yes, it was still a supply closet, sink and all (male dancers never get any respect...), but it was bigger with a wall length bench to sit down and mirrors on either. Definitely more than one person could change in there, though I had the luxury of dressing by myself. Which is good; I still have this odd thing about showing my junk to strangers. Guess it has to do with my childhood or something.

When I got back about ten minutes later the room had filled to... 1 guy. There was still only 1 guy there. Again, I was fine with that since I didn't want to lose my spot on the sign-up sheet. Just to make sure, I asked him if there was one to be signed. He replied that there wasn't a sheet yet. Oh. But... doesn't somebody usually do that? Slap a piece of scratch paper on the table and scribble "unofficial non-equity list"? Should that someone be me? Uh...

I decided to leave well-enough alone, feeling that when it does show up I'll still retain my second place status, and even if I didn't get #2 I'd still be seen. Right?

I continued my warm ups, this time listening to more MJ and some glee tunes to pump me up (Round 2 of stares and glares may commence in 3, 2, 1...). I was going full out, but as more and more men came into the room (again, just like last audition, it was strictly an all-male call; the women went yesterday) less and less room was available to me (more science lessons!). Also, as more and more men came in, more and more did my confidence level drop. Not to the point of depression and the need for escape, but enough to notice the correlation between people in the room and the acid levels in my stomach. I saw my friend Mario there, which was a big boost of confidence. We said hugged, chatted for a tiny bit, and then he went to prepare himself as I continued to warmup.

Still more and more men came in, and it wasn't even 9:30 yet. Nobody noticed me; no imaginary snickers or looks. The crowd was too boisterous to see each other to notice me. They were, however, very loud. The calm, quiet dance room had exploded into a non-alcoholic bar/lounge. I turned up my headphones louder, but to no avail.

NINE-THIRTY

At thirty minutes till the audition, a man with a glasses and a handlebar mustache came into the room. He quieted us down and then, in a very booming, authoritative tone announced the steps to sign up. He never announced his name or title (I do plan on going to the site to get it, if possible) but I imagine he was the production coordinator and/or stage manager. Unlike the first production coordinator I encountered (who was very friendly to the point of jovial), this man was authoritative to the point of (but never actually reaching) rudeness. While at first it caught me off guard (if there was any large company I thought I understood, it was Sacramento Music Circus), I didn't think anything of it. He's got to command all these people while keeping everything on time. And, in all honesty, this was what I was expecting when coming to New York.

The production coordinator, as I shall call him for lack of a better title or name, pulled out a piece of paper and announced this was the official non-equity sign up sheet. He also said that the production team (Glen Casalle, artistic director; Mary West, associate choreographer; Eric Johnston at piano; and a few other names I didn't get, including the choreographer) might not see non-equity today; he just wasn't sure at this time.

Excuse me? You're not going to see non-equity? But... this is a dance call; you don't have to go individually. Don't we all go in together?

Apparently not. Seems that, with the number of attendees this high and the size of the room so small (though I never actually got to see inside that room, yet imagined it looked similar to the one I was in), they were going to bring people in as groups of 21, so that they could audition in groups of threes if you were wondering about the odd number of people in a group (why not 20?). If you weren't wondering, read on.

There were about 85+ equity people who attended (some who signed up earlier, some who just showed up right then and there), so there were a few groups who were going to go. I assumed the prod. team was going to teach the combo, see the combo, then make some decisions, then bring the second group in, teach the combo, see the combo, then make some decisions, rinse, repeat. This meant that it may have been awhile before I would even be seen (unlike last time, where we all went). The prod. coordinator just didn't know right off the bat. He did have us sign in, however, in case we were seen.

Remember that unofficial non-equity sign-in sheet that I talked about earlier? The one that wasn't there? The one where I thought I should start it but thought not to, just in case we "weren't supposed to" (I read that on a breakdown once).

Yeah, that thing would've come in handy right around now.

The non-equity people rushed the table. I went, then double-backed for a pen, and by the time I got to sign my name on the sheet I was the last in line. Wait, I think there were a few people behind me. I was the almost last in line. Eh, that doesn't have the same kick as before. I was the ABSOLUTE LAST in line! Now we're cooking...

Granted, there were 15 or so on the list, but it was still a little disheartening to come so early yet sign up so late. But, what could we do? (Note: please read in a pseudo-effeminate tone) "Um, please form a line in terms of when you got here, that is if you can remember who was immediately before you and immediately after. Honestly please, people!" (Continue as you were. Thank you.) No, we couldn't do that. So, I sat down to wait and learned for next time.

The prod. coordinator then named off the equity members who signed up ahead of time. After their name was called, each member announced their presence and took two forms from the table: a yellow form that was to be split in two and seems to be standard for equity auditions and a white form that was specific to the Music Circus auditions. It was a lot like a field trip.

For those equity members who didn't sign up ahead of time, there was a line forming to the left of the room. The prod. coordinator got through everyone on his list, he asked those in the aforementioned line to come down, grab the aforementioned forms, and fill them out, as aforementioned. Again, a lot like a field trip.

Those of us who weren't equity waited.

The prod. coordinator asked for the first 21 people's forms, headshots, and résumés. He then compiled them and left for the adjacent dancing room right across the hall.

Those of us who weren't equity waited.

THE AUDITION

At around 10:00, the prod. coordinator came into the room and announced that they would not be seeing non-equity today.

There was no audition. For me, at least.

He then said that usually out-of-town theaters who come to New York hire non-equity locally, which got me to think that maybe I need to start making a yearly trip back home right around the Music Circus' Sacramento auditions. You know, to see the family. The prod. coordinator also said that if non-equity wanted to they could drop off their headshots and résumés with him and advised us to follow up with a postcard. He even showed us a piece of paper with the address of the company on it so we may direct our mail in a similar direction. He told us that all companies had that piece of paper and to always look for it and follow up. While I lapped up his advice like an eager puppy for nourishment, I could tell that not all the non-equity weren't as fresh off the bus as I was and probably already knew. I tried to give my headshot and résumé to him personally, or to even find out his name, but he was busy, and I'm not the type to barge in. Not yet, at least.

I packed my bags and left before the first group even got in.

Am I disappointed? Yeah, sure, why not? It's hard to wait around and not get seen.

Am I down? Sad? Hell no! I'm actually feeling pretty good. Not as ecstatic as my first audition, but confident. Here's why:

1) I knew this was going to happen, sooner or later. So, let it happen now. That way, it'll dull the blow next time it happens, and the time after that, and the time after that. I know what I got myself into. I'm happy there's no more anticipation; just experience.

2) I showed up. I did my job. I could've stayed in bed, slept until noon. But I didn't. I showed up, I warmed up, and I was prepared. If a company doesn't see me, so what? It's their loss. I held up my end of the bargain. They say that 80% of success is just showing up. If that's true, then I have an 80% success rate! And that's pretty damn good.

Audition Log 2/8/11 - The First One

I've always been told that after every audition you should write down everything you can remember about it, as a guide for future auditions (e.g. Were the lights a problem? The space a benefit? What clothes did you wear and how did that help/hinder your audition). Well, what better place to log my collective audition journey than here? So, after every audition, I'll post what happened, how it went, and how I felt. Names (may) be changed to protect the innocent.

As I write this, "Linus and Lucy" by Vince Guaraldi is playing in the background. How suitable, because that is exactly how I feel after my first EVER audition in New York!

It went so well! So much fun, and the company was so nice. Stars seemed to align.

Here's the step-by-step of how it went (it may get long; my apologies).

THE MORNING

I woke up at 6:30 am after a mere four/five hours of sleep. I prepared the night before (printing headshots, packing my dance clothes, double-checking my music). It was sort of unwise to try it all that night, seeing as how I didn't get home from work until 9, but sometimes things like that happen. In the future, Jimmy, prepare earlier.

I tried to take a shower, but apparently the water doesn't get hot until....I dunno, 9 or 10. I left my house at 8, hoping that it would warm up before then so I could get a quick shower in. Sadly, no go. I even had to pour hot water from the teapot into a bowl so I could shave. It was not a pretty sight. In the future, Jimmy, shower the night before. And shave regularly.

THE SUBWAY

Of course, the day I wanted to get somewhere relatively early was the day my metro card expired. I missed one subway while refilling but made another. I had plenty of time, but it was still funny nonetheless.

THE PRE-AUDITION

I made it all the way down to W. 54th St. easy enough and found the building, which is just a building full of offices. No fancy on-the-stage audition like in A Chorus Line, which I know is the standard now but is still a little sad. Actors can have "audition dreams," too.

When I got in, there was a sign that stated: "Casting Calls: the line forms outside. Building doesn't open until 8:30." I checked my watch. 8:30, on the dot. Uh oh, I thought, there's a line!? I knew it was going to be big, but...but...oh my, how many people will be in front of me?

Six. Six people were in front of me.

I took the elevator up to the 11th floor, found the studio space, and meandered into this dance room with chairs lined up on either side. I figured this was the holding area, and felt rewarded when I found out I was correct. There was a table to the side with two pieces of lined paper taped to it. One said, "UNOFFICIAL HAIRSPRAY SIGN UP - MALE" and the other said the same thing but for women. Ooo! I thought, my first unofficial sign-up sheet. Here's to many more! I signed up and got dressed.

The dance call was first, so I went into the "Men's Dressing Room" and changed. I put quotations marks around "Men's Dressing Room" because it wasn't; it was a supply closet. A small one, at that. No lock, too. But I made due and changed.

The breakdown asked everyone to wear clothes that would show off your body. So, I'm thinking tight fitting, non-baggy or tapered-out. So I choose a tight, white shirt and jazz pants: and old standard. In hindsight, I did not need to wear this. The choreography was such that I could have worn track pants and been fine (some men did). It didn't impede my dancing, but I did feel a little foolish.

I finished dressing and came back into the waiting room. It was 8:40; I had an hour and twenty minutes before the audition began. I felt that was fine, because it gave me a chance to really warm up (I had not danced for a few weeks and was feeling it).

For a dance call, I thought I would have to compete for space to warm up, but there was hardly anyone doing so. In fact, no one was! They were all sitting in the chairs, waiting or texting. I found this odd, but thought maybe they were waiting to warm up later. Whatever floats their boat is fine, but I needed to warm up now. They can catch up when they want to.

But they never did. As more and more men came in (it was strictly a dance call/singing audition for men; women were later in the day), more and more sat. I was a bit flabbergasted. Some people did small stretches here and there, but I was going full out. I know no other way. I felt some eyes on me, (probably) imagined some snickers in my direction, and put on my headphones to diffuse the tiny vampire bomb going off inside me. It worked. I put on slow, soothing music to calm my nerves and drown out any naysayers. Who cares if they make fun of me for stretching? I'm gonna rock this audition.

THE DANCE AUDITION

At around 9:45 a man by the name of Chris introduced himself as the "production coordinator" (I actually forgot his title, and I feel terrible for it. Always remember everyone's name and their job position). He handed us a form to fill out and a brand-new *OFFICIAL* sign-in sheet. Everyone obeyed the unofficial sheet we had originally made, which was a refreshing sight to see. It's cool to hear about it, but to see it first hand. It's a small thing, but in this realm of competition it's nice to see camaraderie and respect.

We left our bags behind (really? Okay...) and followed Chris into another studio, which was roughly the same size as the holding room, maybe a little bigger but not by much. It had mirrors on one side, windows on the other, with fluorescent lights adorning the ceiling. A piano rested in the corner. Pretty standard dance room. Well, save for the piano.

We met the choreographer and his associate, who was the only woman a part of the production team. We also met the music director and the producer of the whole company. Though quiet, the latter two were warm and pleasant.

Not to say that the first two were mean-spirited. Quite the contrary! Unlike what I thought my first NY audition would be, the choreographer was open and kind. He didn't care so much about the technique but about the performance, saying that Hairspray is more about singing than dancing (Oh no! Make it more about dancing!). He joked around with us, citing a jump I had done as "Populism" (from Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson), and tried to help everyone really nail the combination, including two men who were very late.

The combination itself wasn't very hard. A quick combo of 8 8-counts, it featured booty shaking, turns, kicks, and ponies (oh, the ponies!). I don't know how long it took us to learn it exactly, but it felt quick. We then performed it a couple of times without music, then with music, then we went to the sides and put us into small groups.

I was in the third group. Funny enough, I had been placed with my peanut gallery (the boys who I thought were snickering at me, but were probably laughing at some youtube video). We faced the mirror (how nice of the choreographer!) and the associate danced in front of us. After a few moves, she stepped off to the side. She didn't need to help; we were doing good. I don't know if you know, but rocking out to high-energy dance moves? It's kinda my thing. So let me reiterate: I'm gonna rock this audition.

After everyone went once, we did it again but in bigger groups. I was in the second group this time. The first time I was downstage, the second upstage. Both times I was stage left, in you will. Neither times did I have a lapse of memory, though I did flub once or twice when I was waiting on the side.

They then thanked us all, and we went back to the holding area.

After a moment, Chris came back and said they wanted to hear us all sing.

Okay. I'm gonna have to sing. Just breathe...

Part 2 of this Audition Log, including the "Singing Audition" will come up tonight or tomorrow.

The Step with the Steps

Getting up at 8 am (when previously for a month I've gotten up at noon), waking my roommate up, getting a U-Haul in Harlem, driving through Manhattan (again!), picking up a mattress and box-spring (and rolling frame!) finally, driving through Central Park, moving a mattress into our place, getting said mattress in our small elevator, getting a ticket just as we were about to move the U-Haul out of the way of a BROKEN (!) fire hydrant, Skyping with Mom with the first time, seeing how excited she was as I show her that my window looks out onto another window, making perhaps the best Star Wars video ever for my dad's birthday, Skyping and singing my own acoustic guitar version of "Happy Birthday" for my dad, going to Target in the Bronx with roomie to pick up bedsheets for new bed, picking up an awesome plaid button-up too, picking up a few nifty household objects (like a fan) as well, eating at Dave & Buster's with Jen and Cindy, missing out on the D&B arcade games as we race across town to make Inception in IMAX, missing Inception in IMAX since it was sold out, realizing that movies sell out here (and elsewhere apparently; not Fairfield, I'll tell you that!), vowing to ALWAYS use Fandango as we race up Third Ave. while trying to buy tickets for a non-IMAX but still exciting Inception, snagging a cab to reach the theatre in time, being a little afraid for our lives as the cab races up Third Ave. to reach the theatre in time, reaching the theatre in time, buying tickets for 10:20, INCEPTION!!!, knowing all the trials today were well worth seeing that movie tonight, taking three subway trains to reach our home, and finally...

...assembling a bed so that this room, apartment, and town might feel just a bit more like home.

Good. Bad.

Up. Down.

Back. Forth.

It's been a day.

Goodnight.

The Step with the Subway

Today, I took the wrong train.

You'd think this happens a lot, given my little experience riding the subway. But in fact, even though I've lived here for so short a time, I feel I know the subway system. How it works and the like. Perhaps that's why I took the wrong train to begin with; I trusted I knew where I was going.

I like my station. It's small, dingy, and always has at least one homeless person in it. It's home. Best part about my station is that it only has two trains: the B and C, which means less people. The C takes me uptown to work in Washington Heights in a quick ten minutes and back down home in less. I don't have much use for the B, so imagine my surprise when we reach the stop "161 St. - Yankee Stadium"... in the BRONX!

I think back for a minute. I took the C... right? I was so sure. So sure, in fact, that for a moment I even thought they built a whole new station on the C, in a day no less! Nope, I was on the B. In the Bronx. With twenty minutes to get to work and a dead phone.

It's said that if it takes less than forty minutes to get somewhere in New York than you're making good time. How was I going to hoof it back to 145th so I could go uptown to 168th in half that time? With sheer luck and a lot of running, that's how.

167th: I dash out of the car (not before saying a quick hello to a little one), run up the stairs, briefly meet the Bronx for the first time as I'm leaping across the street to the downtown Manhattan line, spend another $2.25, wait for a few minutes, and with fifteen minutes left get on the D back home.

But I'm not going back home. Two stops later I'm back on the island ("We have to go back, Kate! We have to go back!!!") and breathe a short sigh of relief. Not a big one, mind you. I'm still not out of the urban woods yet. A stop after that and I again dash out of the car to try and make an uptown train. If you miss one, you've got to wait another ten minutes, and I only have twelve to go.

145th: Race up two narrow flights of stairs, navigate my way to the track I need (luckily I don't need to spend another $2.25 this time), and admire the coolness of a track above another track while I wait for my train. A or C. Either one will do. Ten minutes to go, and I need something. Hoofing it even comes to mind. Might be better than waiting.

But I do not wait long. Only minutes pass and the A train comes ("You must take the A train!"). The Express. My subway guardian angel. See, the C train would have been perfectly acceptable. With the C, I would go through about 3 stops and arrive late to work. Late, but I'd get there. But not with the A train, oh no no no! From 145th, the A train takes you straight to 168th. My stop.

A bumpy rocket sends us flying uptown. I don't sit. Can't sit. I've only got 7 minutes!

The train opens and I come running out. Eyes set on the prize, and this time (as opposed to 145th) I know the station.

I head straight for the stairs on the other side, all the while strategizing how to weave through these people, my head going faster than my feet.

I make it to the other side. I reach the surface. I'm almost there!

I have to wait for the light.

But I don't wait for the light. I do as all who live here do and cross. Cars coming? Eh. Traffic? What of it? Impending doom? Over my dead body.

I cross the street, open the door to my work, and make it with 4 minutes to spare! 4 MINUTES! I gasp for water as I do a victory lap in my head. I have passed through the underground gauntlet, and I have made it out the other side victorious.

In other news: It's hot. Mind-frying hot. I don't know how people do it year after year. Something I'll have to learn to deal with, right?

But in more good news: I found out today that those with Equity Membership Candidacy (or EMC for short, or "points" for anyone like me who never knew they were called EMC until you had to sign up for them) get to be the first seen after equity members in equity auditions. So it goes: equity, EMC, non-union. EMC still has to wait, but they have a much greater chance of being seen! Right before I left, I did a show which started my EMC. I may only have six points, but that still qualifies me to be seen after as a candidate after equity!

I was going to give myself these first three months to get myself situated with the city: see the town, learn the subway, feel at home. But with my daring escapade on the train today I feel I just might be ready to get ready to throw my hat in the ring.