Thursday, March 4, 2010

On Feeling Sorry for Myself

Yesterday I received two letters of rejection. One via email and one via US mail.

The first was actually quite a kind rejection, that in all honesty, I had a feeling about to begin with. Essentially I was not chosen to sing something that I quite wanted to sing and had auditioned to do so. This was easily a matter of preference and not a reflection on my success in auditioning but still of course quickly reminded me of what a bitter drink rejection is.

The second letter was one of those rejections where you come home and you get the mail and you see a skinny envelope rather than a thick one and you know it is probably going to tell you how much you're not needed, but you hope for the opposite. So, you fumble with the envelope and read quickly only to find out that you know better than the think the opposite. Denied. It's a polite yet canned letter, telling you that they won't be hiring you for their ensemble. The potential highlight is that it is signed by the conductor himself, but then it occurs to you that the conductor actually signed it, so he personally is saying he doesn't want you in his group this time around and you wonder if you'll ever make it in the field of classical music.

This is of course part of the gamble in auditioning for anything as a musician, which may be why I've stopped auditioning for things in general. The likelihood of being rejected in this arena that I'm in, is high. The opportunities are few, the spots are fewer and the competition is strong. But regardless of how much you know, understand and endure that, the rejection is still not anyone's desirable outcome. Honestly, why would any sane person put themselves in this sort of position. Here, I offer myself to you to tell me how you don't need me or aren't interested in me. It's like dating a dominatrix.

I'm actually fairly good at pretending I don't have that much at stake in these sort of situations. I do a pretty decent job at convincing my and the truth of the matter is, I keep a lot going on, so if one thing doesn't work out there is always the other. But, let no one kid you. Being told there is no room in the inn leaves you out on the street.

I hope for a better hotel with a higher thread count sheet and room service in the morning.

In the meantime, hand me a cookie cause I don't like being rejected and I've never met a cookie that didn't love me just as much as I loved it.

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