It's a tale as old as time. I didn't get the part. 

I watched the premier of Smash last night and thought, "It's going to be cool to be an actor pretty soon". But the rub is that as a dramatic climax, rejection works very well, but in real life, when you open your email during a work day and see that snippet in the inbox that contains the word 'unfortunately', it just doesn't strike the same cord. It tugs the heart in a less savory way. It makes you want to cry in public. 

It doesn't start off this way. 

When you first get the call to audition you read the spec. "Eh, ok...the play is, well, I'd do it." Then you read the sides, you make some decisions, you get attached. Attached to the character, the play, and perhaps your interpretation of it. 

You go to the audition. You see so many great people there, some whom you haven't seen in a long time, most that you are excited to see and that you'd love to work with. You read for the director and perhaps get to have a little dialogue, if you're lucky you get adjustments on your read (basically corrections or alternate interpretations) and you can start to see what take the director has on the play. It's interesting (usually). Now you think as you leave, "Man, I'd like to do this play. And I think I did a pretty great job."

You get a call back! Hurray! Typically you receive extra sides or sometimes, sides for a different character. But you've been invited to the party and your bringing your all-star potluck dish. You're going all out. What you could take or leave before, you now have to have. As a matter of fact, it is yours, because you are a positive thinker, a positive person!

You go to the call back, dressed in the same outfit exactly. There are fewer people here and you speak in more hushed tones. You're not just reading, you're acting. This time you get to act with another actor and it's great. Give and take, you create a relationship in a matter of minutes, a history and a present day. More adjustments from the director. You leave with positive feedback, (here in Seattle, there is never negative feedback and never, God forbid, no feedback), and as you take the elevator down you think, "I fucking got it. Turn around ladies and save yourself the pain of the parking ticket because you see this bag? That part is in it!"

You check your email, well, every time you're not doing anything else. Sometimes you do it when you are doing something else. For days. And Days. The part that started out 'Eh...ok' has become an imperative. A given, in-fact because you've been thinking positively. 

And then you don't get it. 

I used to be crushed for weeks when that email landed, a seagull shit in your hair. One time I got in the car and told Justin with a sob, "I've failed at everything I've ever tried to dooooooo!" Oh God, it's just ugly and awful.

But the really painful thing, that seems to be the enduringly painful thing for me, is that I didn't really care to begin with. You have to build up that little wall and say, "No big deal" and through the course of auditioning you harvest a really long stick from the tree of hope and you pole-vault that bitch. 

It's like Toon Town over there! Plants are dancing, cars are singing. Glory shines where the sun used to be. It feels good over there, you get a tan. Your acne clears up. Elton John writes a song for you. 

Because the truth is, you can't approach artistic endeavors saying, "Eh...ok." I certainly try to, but it doesn't stick. I start out passionless and detached and within a day...full blown art romance. It's MRSA in the locker room of my heart. An eternal bloom.

So, I didn't get the part. I'm looking for a singing car to drive me to the other side of the wall and I'm watching Smash thinking, "It's going to be cool to be an actor pretty soon".