What?? ANOTHER Post About Rejection?

11 Sep

Two months later: Insurance said no.

WTF. That was anti-climactic.

But I’ve made the decision to go through with the surgery anyways with another doctor that is highly recommended by my friend and pay for it out-of-pocket. I totally realize that I’m lucky that I have that option, and honestly it’s less than I would have expected.

So that’s all caught up.

I really appreciated the people who have written to me after the post about their own experiences – I always like hearing thoughts on my posts. As always, keep it 100% positive because of my fragile and baby-birdlike ego.

 

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“I don’t care that you found a spelling mistake!”

 

 

Speaking of crushing rejection, these past few weeks have been a banner week in the Bender household. I had two auditions for two different exciting performance-based (and paying!) gigs – one was for a murder mystery theater company, the other was for a pretty prestigious acting troupe that performed sketches written by kids called Story Pirates. The first one was a terrible audition experience and I didn’t get it. The second was an AMAZING audition experience…and I also didn’t get it.

But I now know that it feels even shittier to get rejected after a fun and supportive audition when your hopes are as high as can be. Luckily, I have friends and mentors who were ready to let me cry/cheer me up/send me puppy pics. My sister Shira’s personal brand of cheering up is the slash and burn kind, “Screw em, next project.”

 

 

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“I said chocolate sprinkles!” – My sister, probably

 

When I got the second “it’s a no from me dawg” email, I was walking around East 34th and Lexington after a commercial acting class. I started crying like a big dumb baby cliche. It probably would have been embarrassing if I had a sense of shame anymore or wasn’t in New York City, the land of weirdos.

 

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New York.

 

 

In 2014 I had one thing on my bucket list, “Go to an Open Mic.” That was it. ‘Don’t die before you’ve tried to go on stage once’. And there I was devastated that I didn’t get something that I never in my wildest dreams a few years ago thought I would ever get near enough to even try-out for.

It still felt bad though.

There’s a poster I keep on my fridge that says “There is no elevator to success, you have to take the stairs” (It’s on the fridge, not because it has anything to do with food but because I drew the poster myself and I think that’s where you just hang up all drawings even if you’re 27 years old). I know I assumed joining these companies would be an elevator – it would be someone taking me and my talents in from floating in this ether of comedy and saying ‘here’s a platform, we’ll do the hard work you just have to show up, be great and voila! Success!’

But that didn’t happen. Because, that elevator doesn’t exist (doubly for me since I didn’t even get accepted). I’m still on the stairs. Each experience is a step up. Sometimes you have to sit on that step with pumpkin cheesecake ice cream and cry into your cat.

 

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“Stop crying!” – Whiskey, probably.

 

In good news: I’m still working Sundays at QED where I get to watch comedy shows and work with talented and hardworking people. I’ve had some successful interviews for tour guide positions (especially ghost tours). Pumpkin Spice Season is back!!!!! and the Miami zoo put these flamingos in the men’s room to keep them safe from the hurricane. I love them!

 

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