Earlier this week I had my first audition in over a month. It was a little nerve-wracking since I am a bit out of practice. Every summer I kill myself to get all my applications and auditions ready before school starts, because I know I will have no energy for it in the fall. What is true for the fall is doubly true for the winter, and I showed up wondering if I still knew how to sing.
I went to the conservatory to warm-up before my audition. As I was leaving I heard someone singing “On the Street Where You Live”, one of my favorite songs. As I crossed Mass Ave to the train station I engaged in one of my favorite coping techniques: fretting about something completely unrelated to the true source of my anxiety.
See, I couldn’t remember the first verse to “On the Street Where you Live”. I could remember the second and third, I could remember the bridge, but I could not remember the beginning. I’m standing in the T station muttering to myself trying to remember these words, making myself crazy over it. Finally I did the trick my mom taught me for when you can’t think of a word in a crossword: go through the alphabet beginning with “A”. By the time I got to “I” I remembered the first line.
That mystery solved, I waited (AND WAITED!) for a B train. This particular audition was at BU, which seems so much farther than some of the other audition venues. I made it to BUOI, dashed upstairs, took off my eighty layers of snow gear, and sang well.
In a celebratory mood, I stopped for some hot chocolate before I got back on the train. I’m always amazed at how differently people treat me when I am all tricked out for an audition. Sparkly barrette holding back big hair, tons of eyeliner, no glasses, too much blush, diva lipstick…that must be what the guys like because I was the most popular girl at the BU East stop.
I almost pulled a Liz Lemon when someone asked me if the next stop was Kenmore. The sign with the T map on it was right behind me, but luckily I realized before I opened my mouth that the guy probably wasn’t asking just because of some gap in his knowledge. I’m sure I charmed him with my response: “Uh, I think there’s one in between…uh, blandford, I think”.
Yo, I don’t speak for all guys, of course, but I certainly go for glasses, every time. I have never once seen a woman who doesn’t automatically look like 25% hotter with glasses on than without. They’re my #1 favorite female accessory.