I only got one [shared] sentence, but that sentence liked me. Hooray!
Other reviews were weird. The Standard Examiner reported that I got out of theatre at 23, which I did, and that it was a choice I regretted, which I didn’t. I left the stage because I was a flailing young woman from a chaotic upbringing, who needed to reign in her personal drama before she could usefully apply and enjoy her theatricality. It’s a choice I’m proud of, and the break accomplished precisely what I intended. (Incidentally, I announced to the press that I turned 40 this year, haha! I love FORTY!!!)
The other review was more plot synopsis, by a writer who failed to proofread or check her facts, and hates the show. (Sexism in the workplace in the 60s was galling, and I still cringe at a few albeit satirical lines.) While she saw my portrayal as a mere caricature, she seemed to think I brought some comedic thrust to the production.
I’m not the ingenue anymore, but I see I’m still being type-cast… the vampy ditz who knows a thing or two, haha! Call-backs are tomorrow. Wish me luck!
It’s good the email came, because I was starting to get sour. I got dumped-ish yesterday, and as the hour neared noon I began to feel like I’d yet again merely humiliated myself in an audition. It wasn’t the best, but that’s success for me. Historically, I bomb auditions, so any improvement is notable and necessary.
As for being dumped… The Climber and I have been seeing each other since we met on my 40th birthday. Our date Saturday changed everything. (Best hike ever. I can’t remember laughing so hard, and that’s saying a lot.) I liked John all along, but I was never giddy to the point of distraction. In fact, I was just beginning to worry about it. “Shouldn’t I be thinking about him non-stop by now?” I asked myself. Well… I am.
So, seeing the obvious change in the way I look at him, he texted Sunday telling me he definitely doesn’t want kids at his age (45). Being honest when it’s difficult makes him more desirable, of course, and all he has to do is hang around for the next couple of years. If I don’t find a breeder to take me on, he’ll be back in the running. Except… he never wants to live with cats again, and that’s my family whether I have a baby or not.
“He could be the perfect guy except for one deal-breaker, and that one deal-breaker is enough.” -sage fatherly advice from a friend’s dad
Next. Yet again, next. Sigh.