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My First Audition—Almost

Date: April 12, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Simon would not want to audition in front of Simon.” (Paula Abdul)

Have you ever looked at your life and wondered how you got there? That happened to me the other day. I call it, “The Audition.” Get ready.

I confess I never imagined “audition” and “Andrea” would be mentioned in the same sentence, much less in connection with my life, unexpected or otherwise. But sometimes in life, you get things you never expected! (Wise words, where have I read them before…Oh, yes, in the “About Me” section of this blog.)

One night my husband was talking to me about a theater opportunity he was going to audition for. He made the mistake of mentioning how much the job paid and without thinking (because I’m always trying to figure out ways to enhance my income–still short every month, three years later, darn it) I said, “Really? Maybe I should audition!”

Did I REALLY just say that?

It came out of my mouth on a whim, as a joke or a warped version of wishful thinking in the way you dream of being the recipient of a little extra money…but  before I knew it, my husband was off and running with the idea. He began planning: talked to me all about it, told me what to expect, said he’d help me work up a song to audition with, and when his married son dropped by, he started telling “everyone” (his children and my children and that always leads to information shared to many others:) what I was up to. Sort of a problem for me.

First, I hadn’t figured out how I was going to tell my kids that I was considering attempting something crazy. Second, I was still thinking I was in the “considering it” phase, not actually “planning to do it.” Third, believe it or not and contrary to what this blog may imply, I like to do things without having everyone know about it unless I choose to put it out there, like in this blog, and I always put it out there after the fact—after I’ve experienced it, processed it, mentally recovered from it and made sure enough time has passed I’m not imposing on anyone’s privacy. And fourth, in remarriage with children those opportunities for total privacy are few and far between. It feels like other parties always have to be notified of something we’re planning and thus, know my business almost as quickly as I do, so I relish the few things not connected to parenting/children that my husband and I can do without informing or involving anyone else…and then he told the kids right off the bat! (I know, I know, I’m hypersensitive where boundaries are concerned. I’m pretty sure it’s just an issue I have, but it has been a challenge because our two different families with two different cultures, which includes completely different ideas about boundaries, expectations and everything else, don’t always align. What’s normal to one family and the way they’ve always done it, doesn’t necessarily mesh with my expectations or isn’t how my family has always done it…you get the picture. Lets just say marriage, and especially remarriage, is a continual lesson in compromise, among many other things, is it not?)

Over the next few days, my husband continued to talk about the audition like it was a reality and I was really going to do it, left potential audition songs for me on the piano, and finally, the night before the audition, sat me down at the piano, had me sing a few songs, and selected one for me to master. Which led to an impromptu singing lesson because as he gave me vocal direction I could only look at him with a blank face. “Huh?” I frequently questioned. “What does that mean?” He’d demonstrate, we’d work on it and after quite a bit of time, he told me we were ready to leave it and he made a plan for us to go to the audition the next morning together.

As I stood in my living room, singing a solo in front of my husband and trying to sing in a more classical style (a huge challenge for me, lets just say I was Madonna on a cruise ship for a reason!), I had a hard time not laughing. I just kept thinking, “What in the heck am I doing? How did I get myself into this? This is NOT me. Didn’t I say I was never going to sing in public? I never would have imagined, on our first date, that someday my husband would be giving me a singing lesson…preparatory to an AUDITION!” Yet there I stood, preparing to do that very thing on the morrow.

And then wouldn’t you know it, after all of that time, work, effort and near humiliation I finally thought to check my calendar…and discovered I have a big work event scheduled the same weekend the show opens. Even if I were good enough (by some fluke) to make the show on the very first audition of my life, they’d never cast me if I were going to miss opening weekend performances!

I didn’t audition after all.

Saved by a scheduling conflict.

“A lot affects the outcome. It boils down to scheduling and the commitment of the network.” (David Ogden Stiers)

And that is the story of my first audition. Or the audition that actually didn’t happen. Whew—close call on that one!

Spooky

Date: January 24, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I knew what my job was; it was to go out and meet the people and love them.” (Princess Diana)

I finished my Madonna representation and was anxious to change out of the costume and hide. But I had one more hurdle to clear. The cast had to go to the ship’s main lobby, greet family, friends, “fans,” and pose for a group photo.

I wanted to do all of the above almost as much as I’d wanted to sing a solo of “Like A Virgin” in front of hundreds of people and wear the costume I’d been provided with—but I did it anyway, comforting myself that at least I wouldn’t know anyone and hopefully, that what happened on a Carnival cruise ship stayed on a Carnival cruise ship!

After the group photo, a man approached. Turns out, he’d been an old friend of my husband’s parents and their family in Winslow, Arizona, and hadn’t seen my husband in approximately 30 years! Their reunion was joyful. As I watched and listened to the conversation, I realized the man had also been a leader in the L.D.S. church when my husband was called on his mission to Japan—and there I stood dressed like Madonna! I took that as my cue to leave, and quick!

I turned to make my escape just as my husband said, “And let me introduce you to my wife!” I wanted to die, but instead, got to make a new acquaintance while wearing a black bustier. Not exactly what I’d expected. I sort of felt like a deer caught in headlights. But it got much, much worse when my new acquaintance revealed he now lives in the Denver-metro area. My husband replied, “Oh! My wife is from Denver!” The man turned to me and asked, “Really? What was your name?”

Have you ever seen television shows where everything comes to a screeching halt and all of the characters “freeze?” That’s how I feel, still, when people ask the question, “What’s your name?” I know, instantly, they’re going to recognize my name and it’s 2009, to some degree, all over again. (To those who think I can’t fully escape my past, try as I might…sometimes it feels like you’re right!) I felt like I stood there, mouth open, as my mind raced to solve the problem of how to answer that question but before I could give a response that did not include the name “Merriman,” my husband introduced me: Andrea Merriman. (He is such a nonjudgmental, kind man, but as much as he thinks he understands what I lived through as the wife of a Ponzi schemer clueless about her husband’s crimes until their 2009 revelation, I just don’t think he gets it; and it’s moments like that that reinforce that suspicion in me.)

It was the man’s turn to look like a deer caught in headlights. I’d known he would. I’d just been hoping to avoid it. A part of me wanted to die, inside. The good news, is that those moments are becoming fewer and further between. The bad news is that they still happen. The conversation resumed and I tried to remove myself from it as unobtrusively as possible.

I’d outdone myself that evening: inappropriate clothing, inappropriate lyrics, a forgettable solo in front of hundreds of strangers…courtesy of Andrea Merriman!

“When a relationship dies, do we ever really give up the ghost or are we forever haunted by the spirits of relationships past?” (Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie Bradshaw, “Sex In The City”)

 

Do-Be-Do-Be-Do

Date: January 21, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Do be do be do.” (Frank Sinatra)

Too soon, the final night of the cruise, THE show, was upon me. I was dressed, I was ready to go (well, as ready as I’d ever be—HATING the costume, especially the wig I had to wear; filled with dread at what I was about to do; and unable to do anything but just get it over with.) The good news? I hated the wig so much, I was more focused on that than the fact I had to sing a solo in front of hundreds of strangers!

More good news? I wasn’t alone.

My husband was also in the show, dressed in a tuxedo and hat (looking very handsome, I might add!) to sing a Frank Sinatra song. He was backstage with me, sitting by me as we watched the show on monitors and waited for our call. As many times as I’ve sat in the audience and watched him perform, I confess I’ve wondered what he does backstage . Now I know. He says he sits and reads, but that night he sat and worried about another performer. And it wasn’t even me, it was Garth Brooks! (His brother, my brother-in-law, was singing a Garth Brooks song.) Apparently, the brother bond is stronger than even Madonna.

And before I knew it, my personal escort (the handsome young male dancer from Australia) came for me. They’d told us our escorts would walk us on stage, but instead, mine thrust the mike in my hand, whispered, “Go!” and sent me out into the spotlight alone as my boys (the male dancers in tight, tiny shorts and tight, tiny shirts with sequined “M”s on the front) started busting their moves.

I sang my song. I don’t think I forgot the words, but yet, I don’t have a clue what words I sang. My husband was right about the muscle memory thing though—somehow my mouth sang the words of its own volition, because all I was doing was standing there thinking, “What in the world have I gotten myself into? THIS isn’t what I do. The last time I was on-stage impersonating a pop star and singing for a crowd was 1982! I wonder how much longer this will take? I wonder who is in the crowd? How many people are in the theater? What did I just sing? Who does this type of thing at 44 years old? I must be crazy. I wonder what the male dancers are up to behind me?” and a host of other thoughts.

And then it was done. Over. Relief! I’m pretty sure the audience felt the same way.

That is the tale of my one chance in life to sing with a live band.

And I survived it.

“I’m for whatever gets you through the night.” (Frank Sinatra)

Another totally unexpected adventure in my unexpected life.

The 13th Clown

Date: January 20, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

Funny how a 7-day cruise flies by when you have to sing a solo in front of hundreds of people on the last night! At least, that’s how it was for me. Thank goodness for dress rehearsals!

Just kidding. I mean, it was nice to know where to stand on the stage (the big “X”). But I confess, it made me nervous when the handsome young cast member/dancer from Australia told me not to move too much as I sang…because my male backup dancers would be dancing all around me. Wearing short-shorts and tight tiny t-shirts. And their moves had to be something to behold (I couldn’t see them, as they were dancing behind me) because my husband commented several times about them.

Oh, good. Then the dance moves would match the lyrics.

The song? “Like A Virgin.”

When I heard what I had to sing, I wanted to die. ”I can’t sing this!” I told my husband.

“Sure you can, you’ve heard it before. You’re an 80s girl. You listened to Madonna, you know this song!” he remarked.

“Well apparently, I never listened to the words—or I didn’t understand them if I did,” I said. “I’m older now, I’m a newlywed, and I can’t believe them! I should be mortified!” I exclaimed. (Thank goodness for Ponzi schemes, crime, public divorce and familial downfall to take away any sense of mortification or humiliation. I told you, I can’t be humiliated anymore!)

But it was too late to do anything about it. My husband told me the show was counting on me. It was too late to get anyone else to do it. So like the unexpected life, sometimes you’ve just got to push through it. My sister-in-law helped me do 1980s makeup (and blue eye shadow), I cringed as I put on every article of the provided costume—black boots, black bustier, pink netting skirt—and comforted myself that at least I wouldn’t know anyone in the audience.

Turns out, I was wrong about that too.

“If there are 12 clowns in a ring, you can jump in the middle and start reciting Shakespeare, but to the audience, you’ll just be the 13th clown.” (Adam Walinsky)

You Have To Give A Woman…

Date: January 19, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I am my own experiment. I am my own work of art.” (Madonna)

Apparently, I am too.

Lets just say there has been a lot of “experimenting” (as in a lot of new, unexpected experiences) since 2009. All seeming to take place during karaoke on a cruise ship lately, for some reason. Here’s how the worst one happened:

I remember the karaoke hostess asking if anyone could sing Madonna. I looked around, I was the youngest woman there (and the only blonde) and no one was standing up, so for some reason, I did. I sang my first solo. “Material Girl.” (It must be that it was Madonna. Madonna and Abba are my weakness, haha! A carryover from my 1980s upbringing, I guess.) After I sang I was handed a packet and a MP3 player to practice for a special performance—no wonder no one volunteered!

I worried to my husband, “I can’t sing Madonna to a bunch of people in the karaoke lounge.” He assured me I wouldn’t have to. I would be singing Madonna at the cruise’s final show, on the big stage with the red velvet curtains!

“I can’t do that!” I exclaimed.

“Too late,” he replied. He advised me to memorize the lyrics and practice the song. He told me that up on stage before thousands of people, I’d be nervous and forget everything; that’s why I needed to practice, so my mouth would have “memory” and be able to sing the right words when I didn’t have a clue what I was doing because I was terrified.

Reassuring, to say the least.

“At least you’ll get to sing with a live band, that’s really fun,” he encouraged. “Most people go their whole lives without that opportunity.”

Somehow, I think I would have survived my entire life without the experience, however, you know what they say: ”Opportunity knocks for every man, but you have to give a woman a ring.” (Mae West)