scary happy

You know you've waited too long to rake leaves when it snows all over them.

Yesterday I did something really terrifying.

I auditioned.

I have never auditioned for a play in my life. Ever. When I played "the reporter" in last season's show, I was just given the part by the director, since no one really wanted a role that lasted fifty seconds. Six lines? No experience? Big hair? You're hired!

It was really scary. My palms were sweating in the car and I almost bailed out and didn't go, but I made myself. I thought it would be good to get out of my comfort zone and at least be out socializing with actual humans, after just coming out of a two week wave of depression. I kept repeating my mantra: "nothing is as bad as Lyme. Nothing is as bad as Lyme."

So there I was, clutching a script and standing onstage with the other auditioners, reading scenes together for the director. I did the best I could, and I am very proud of myself. I actually had fun and started to really want the role. And then I'd freak out and imagine myself onstage for two whole hours, and I'd hope I didn't get it.

But I did.

Let the freaking begin.

I play Stacey, the forgotten, sullen, misunderstood member of the family. Here's the synopsis:

A Nice Family Gathering is a story about a man who loved his wife so much, he almost told her. It's Thanksgiving Day and the first family gathering at the Lundeen household since the patriarch died. At the gathering, Dad comes back as a ghost with a mission: to tell his wife he loved her, something he neglected to tell her while he was alive. After all, they were only married for 41 years. The problem is, she can't hear or see him. The trouble begins when Mom invites a date for dinner.

I'm very excited. I think. Crap, what have I gotten myself into?