My junior year of high school, I had a newfound (probably Glee fueled, not that I’ll ever admit it) obsession with theater. I decided to try out for the school’s Fall production of the 19th century set The Miracle Worker—the audition being the first time I had ever said my lines in front of other sentient creatures—somehow turning a minute monologue into a seven second one. (To everyone who witnessed that, you know who you are, and thank you for never ever acknowledging that monologueever once the nightmare was over) Miraculously (actually, by sheer probability because not enough people auditioned) the honor of playing the unnamed character “Blind girl #2” was bequeathed upon me.
Ok, actually, confession, I wasn’t even “#2.” We were just referred to en masse as “blind girls,” so everyone I’ve been recounting this tale to, I’ve just been lying to you for dramatic effect.
We were on stage for two minutes. I had one line. (“Where’s Alice?”) And that was that. Rehearsals were daily, grueling, and time consuming. Grades suffered, along with my dignity, but for some bizarre reason, I got it in my head to try to audition for our Spring musical production.
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Picture source: kidsactingoutwest.com