Break a Leg, Part Two

In a few minutes, I'll be going to my acting class.

I didn't get the part I really wanted : an ageing actress in a retirement home who scandalizes the other ladies by waxing nostalgic about her past love life and making fun of their fear of the outside world. She is fabulously bitchy.

The parts got chosen on a day I couldn't make it to class, so now I'm playing a teenager shocked by the murderous confessions of a crazy lady on a park bench.

I only accepted to be nice.

But I don't feel nice.

I secretly wish something would happen so I could have the part of the old bitch. I don't want anything bad to happen, of course, but you know, just a scheduling conflict where the person who got it can't make it. Something that would make her have to bow out. Then I could step in as the savior, have the part I really want, blow everyone away with my fantastic performance, all the while coming off as a team player who stepped up to bat to save the show.

Does that mean I am getting a tiny glimpse into the backstabbing, competitive and totally neurotic world of acting?

I think I'm just getting a lot of good practice at being a bitch.