Dreams Revisited

"You should have your own show!" "You belong be on stage!"

I've been hearing those words for my entire life, and they put some big dreams in my head from a very young age. For a time, I pursued them. My college degree is in the performing arts, against my parents wishes ("Nine out of 10 actors are unemployed! Computer science is what you should be pursuing."). I've done some community theater (knocked 'em dead in Albany, Troy and Schenectady). Then after graduation, I moved to Manhattan, hoping to take Broadway by storm (along with about a zillion other people who should also have their own shows and belong on stage).

Not being a member of any actors' unions, I was only eligible to audition at "open" casting calls - generally community theater-type productions. When I'd tried out for plays in my hometown, there'd barely be enough actors to take all the roles. But in New York, there'd be me and the other aforementioned zillion talented hopefuls. Every one of us thinking, "This will be my big break! I just know a powerful casting director will wander into this Park Slope church and see me crush it as SECOND NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR." The smallest audition would turn into Cutthroat Island. Don't get me wrong; I'm competitive by nature, but I didn't have the stomach to get really down and dirty, to sabotage the competition, or to cozy up to the director. I just wanted to perform...on stage!

And I would never be offered the leads anyway, because of my "look." I heard this over and over, "Before you start reading, you should know you're just not the look we're going for. But thanks for coming in." Petite but curvy. Dark brown eyes and hair. Olive complexion. This all added up to "too exotic." Only lanky, blue-eyed blonds need apply. However, I used this to my advantage because the hookers and maids (the only parts I'd get) usually had some of the best lines in the whole damn show.

To make ends meet, I took an entry level position at a firm on Wall Street, because waitressing was nothing I'd be good at. That's when my dream started getting buried. Within two years, I'd advanced to an executive position and travelled all over the United States. Then came the international travel. It was exciting and challenging, but most of all, I felt valued for talents I didn't know I had - business talents. Nobody was dismissing me because of my looks. I was earning respect...and money...and bonuses...and retirement plans...and health insurance... It certainly beat cooling my jets in a church basement for three hours, only to be told I'm too short to play Lady MacBeth.

That was a long time ago, and I never looked back. Then something surprising happened. Last summer, right in the middle of CVS, the cover of a magazine made me cry. No, it didn't depict some tragic world event or a glorious sunset. Rather, it was the photo of an up-and-coming ingénue. SHE never gave up. SHE didn't sell out. SHE stuck to it and now SHE had the career that was supposed to be MINE! I was struck by my reaction. Even though I'd thought I was over it, clearly I was not. And let's get real, I was still holding onto a few of my old black and white headshots (See Exhibit A at the top of the page).

But here's the kicker: I was tagged for this challenge the day an ad turned up in my email. It was an ad for six weeks of acting classes. The power of the universe is a funny thing, isn't it? So, I bought them and for six weeks, I'll revisit my dream. I guess it's never too late. Maybe I'll get my own show or wind up on stage.