Inspiration in rejection
My new year began with a lot of sudden changes: I moved two floors down into a new apartment. The restaurant I work in began renovations, so I was swept across the park to a fancier, Gossip Girl approved locale. I turned 26 and celebrated with some of my closest friends and friendliest strangers by singing my own white-trash version of Shania karaoke. And two days ago I also auditioned for Juilliard.
That last bit will be the focus of today’s post.
In case you didn’t know, due to a generous grant, Juilliard’s tuition is now totally free for their MFA Acting students. There’s also even money to cover expenses during the final year of training sprinkled on top. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of going back to school. The prospect of spending another four years bound to academia sounds dreadful, but I thought “it’s Juilliard, what the heck, I might as well!”
Well actually, I’m downplaying it a bit. I really thought “It would be SO cool to go to Juilliard. I would really really REALLY love to get in!” I submitted my application, agonized over my essay, met with current and former students to get the inside scoop on the process. I spent time refining my materials, picking the best monologues for showcasing myself. I was invested in my audition.
Now, if I had a dollar for every time I’ve been rejected from a prestigious acting school, I would have enough to at least buy a sandwich from my local bodega. And the good news is I now have enough to buy a soda, too. The bad news is, all that work amounted to a swift rejection in the first round of auditions. It was extraordinary the way they narrowed 65 applicants down to a group of 9 so quickly, but I suppose when you have the number of applicants Juilliard has, you learn to make immediate assessments.
Fortunately, I’ve had my fair share of rejections so I walked away pretty unfazed. Maybe a little disappointed, but more than that I feel energized. Auditioning for Juilliard just reminded me that this is all supposed to be fun. The work still feels good to do. The art is still fulfilling. And as I walked across Lincoln Center and felt a familiarity with the buildings and the stones and the New York air, I thought “Oh yeah, and I like living here.”
Maybe I’ll audition again next year. Maybe I’ll get another dollar. Which is really no biggie because at least the guy at my bodega makes a mean BLT.