The Oakland Post

SATIRE: Why it’s sometimes OK to abandon your hopes and dreams

Nicole Morsfield, Photographer

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The semester is almost over, so let’s end the year right with a personal story on why I gave up on my dreams.

It’s October 2016. I’m a naive 18-year-old aspiring actress with dreams of reaching Hollywood. I decide to audition for a play. I have to memorize a one-minute comedic monologue. Naturally, I pick the first one I find on Google.

My audition is at 10:10 p.m. Someone gives me an audition application. I only have a pen, so I better not make any mistakes. The first question is what role I’m auditioning for. I don’t know, all of them? They could cast me as a man for all I care.

Wait, never mind. I don’t want to be a guy. I write down “any female role.” Looks professional.

Next is experience. I acted in two shows when I was in middle school. They weren’t even real plays, just collections of skits. What director is going to be impressed by “Fairytales Go to Court”? None. I’m screwed.

It’s so loud in the hallway. I can’t focus.

My name is called. I walk into the audition room and hand my application to the director. 

“Sorry about the pen marks,” I say. “I was kind of nervous while writing.”

Shit. I just told the director I was nervous. Stupid. Fortunately, he brushes it off.

I’m standing in one place delivering my lines. The monologue is about love. I don’t talk about love often, so I’m not sure how to move naturally.

The next line doesn’t come. I just forgot my monologue

I’m standing there with wide eyes, almost laughing. Avoid eye contact with the director at all costs.

“Oh my gosh…” I said that out loud. Great.

After about 25 seconds, my memory spares me further embarrassment and gives me the rest of my monologue. I pick up where I left off and finish the audition.

“How did that feel?” the director asks.

“Well, I really wish I hadn’t forgotten it.” Shit. I said that out loud, too.

All I want is to abort mission, but it’s not over yet. The play is a farce. The director asks what things I find funny.

Shit. I don’t know, memes, self-deprecating jokes, what else? I tell him I like dark humor.

Now I’m just praying he doesn’t ask me to give an example. I don’t remember whether he did. Part of me says he didn’t, probably out of sympathy. But part of me says he did and I said something stupid. I really hope it was the former.

Finally it’s over and I get the hell out of dodge. I should have told him I was Ashton Kutcher and this was an episode of “Punk’d.” Obviously, I don’t make the callbacks.

Today, slightly less naive 19-year-old me knows better. Hollywood couldn’t have handled me, anyway. My level of mediocre acting surpasses even that of the Lifetime Movie Network.

There is a silver lining, though. It turns out I’m better at photographing theater than acting in it.

All the world’s a stage, but I’m better off in the audience behind a camera. Just stick to what you’re good at and leave your dreams at the door.

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