I'm going to describe yesterday afternoon briefly, because I'd like to capture it, and I know my delight will be all too brief.

I crashed a general audition - got there at 2:30, waited around until they did finally see me at 5:15 pm (which isn't that long - I have waited from 7 am to 4:45 pm to be seen).

The 2 1/2 hours were pretty torturous. Waiting around at a general audition, you see a smorgasbord of people who are feasibly better than you are and will get cast instead of you. Most of the girls are prettier than me, or if not, thinner, or if not, DEFINITELY younger. Someone always knows someone else, they have big lovey reunions with each other, then stand around talking about what show they are in at the moment.  It's always some play you want to be in but didn't get cast in, or an audition you weren't called for, or some project you know you would never in a million years be able to do.
The mental capacity required to withstand this kind of water torture (because every person who arrives is a) another drop, and b) another slot full so you might never even get into the room) is attainable but elusive. Sometimes I can take it, sometimes I feel like total crap the whole time. No matter what, it brings out the "judgy" in me.

But then, right at the very end of the day, when everyone else was gone, they had me come in and audition with my 2 minute piece. AND the three people in the room, those gracious, lovely people, after 7 hours of watching people, had the grace to laugh, more than once. And for a moment, a pure, inhabited moment, I wasn't begging for a job. I was telling a story to people who were listening and enjoying it. A funny story. A story they could identify with.  Sometimes it made them laugh with recognition.

And here's the thing. I feel whole. Not bored. Not anxious. Not inferior or sad or confused or wasting my life. Today, for 2 minutes, for an audience of 3 people, I was exactly who I want to be. Who I am supposed to be. As if the tumblers in my particular lock have finally synced up and something came loose.

Tomorrow it'll be gone again. But this is why I haven't stopped yet. Because sometimes it clicks.