The Second City: My Chicago experiment comes to an end... ?
On Tuesday, I got an email from Keith saying that both he and Dave did NOT make it into the Second City Conservatory. I found this scary for two reasons: 1) Dave is more experienced than I am... and I figured he would make it in on his second try. 2) No matter how you slice it, Keith is just flat out better than I am. So to say I was nervous would be an understatement. The thing about Dave and Keith that make their situation better than mine is that they live here in Chicago; they're not going anywhere, as they live, work, and have significant others here. So for them to have to wait a couple months to audition again is no big deal; they're going to be here anyway. I, on the other hand, have to make a decision come October of this year. My lease will be up and, even if I made it into the Conservatory, I'd have a couple months left before I was done: I'd have to move someplace else in the city (someplace less expensive). If I didn't make it into the Conservatory now, I mean, add a couple months to the couple of months I already would have added to stay here, and it just becomes unrealistic financially for me to stay in Chicago. So unrealistic, in fact, that I don't know if I would audition again if I didn't make it into the Conservatory this time. Nothing like putting all your eggs in one basket for some unneeded pressure.
I spent from Tuesday until Friday (and especially the four hours in the car from BR to Chicago) thinking about what I would do if I didn't make it into the Conservatory. I'm going to need a job in January, regardless. I've been thinking about auditioning for some actual theatre here in Chicago... I miss doing dramatic "look at me crying" theatre. And I was thinking about where I go from here... where do I go after Chicago? Law school? Grad school... become a teacher? A teacher of what? Where would I live? What school would I go to? Why do I only speak in questions? Yeah... I don't know.
Needless to say, I had a lot on my mind, and a lot riding on the contents of a certain letter in Chicago. I got to my apartment, got my mail, noticed in the elevator that I had gotten a letter from the Second City, and went into my apartment to sit. I sat and looked at the letter for at least five minutes. Was it too thin to be an acceptance letter? Was it too thick to be a rejection? Have I gotten no intelligence from the thickness of the letter? Yes. I might as well open the stupid thing. "Congratulations..." it said, and my eyes started watering. Against all odds... I honestly didn't think I had a chance. I wouldn't have to figure out what to do with myself for a whole other year... I'm not done here. And I must be better at this improv thing than I thought. My classes will be on Thursday nights... making my January: Thursday night class, Friday night writing show, Saturday night show, Sunday night show. I'm going to need a regular "business" job, with business hours, so I have nights and weekends free. Whatever... it doesn't matter. I'm in... and I'll be here, trying this out for another year. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.