I am staring at a coaster right now.  This living room is in a house which serves as the head office of an agency that represents actors and actresses.  The painted picture on the coaster is a scene in Paris where the bridge crosses the Seine.  Everything is stone and lights, and the people are crowded amongst the buildings and the art that artists have put up for sale.  It is evening and dusk, a pinkish rouge color is in the sky, and only a few leaves straggle on the tall trees, thin and yet like a Japanese Jade tree.  I, of course, do not have a drink, and am waiting in this room in this house, because a friend of a friend of a friend was asked if she knew anyone who wanted a chance to act.  And, so, through the grape vine, this search for acting stars has got to me.

I was told by this friend of a friend, of a friend, that I needed to have professional headshots done–but I also had the choice to just provide all the photos in a contact sheet.  Agents and agencies are familiar with these methods.  So, I am in this room.

The house is quiet, and there is a portress who answers the door when the doorbell rings.  She shows us to this living room, just off the hall foyer to the left.  So, within minutes of my arrival, an older man is also shown in.  He is large, and quite muscular.  When he sits, he hunches, massively, on the couch, his legs and knees up, easily supporting his elbows and shoulders.

We greet each other quietly, and smile in a pleasant manner.  Then, we continue to sit in silence, waiting in the silence of the house.

After about five minutes, a middle-aged woman, thin and somewhat of a dried-out-hair blonde comes into the room.  She introduces herself, shaking hands with each of us.  Then she starts to interview us.  It is not like other job interviews, the questions are sometimes surprising.  I answer as best as I can.  And even though the interview is a dual interview, involving both me and the man, soon, the focus is only on me, and I produce the contact sheet.  The woman takes out an eye-viewer, so, looking through it, the miniaturized contact sheet pictures look larger and the details can be seen.  The funny thing is that, after she looks at the pictures, she asks me to choose the one I like best.  Unfortunately, because I did not look in detail at the pictures beforehand, I look through the eye-viewer for the first time and am overwhelmed by all the choices.  They all look similar to me, and I think, that is why she asks me to choose.

At this point, it is obvious, I am not presenting myself in a very acceptable way.  I don’t think I’ve  proven myself to be an actress.  I am more nervous than anything else, and would not know how to show someone I know how to act, let alone, have a discussion on the merits of acting.  As it dawns on me that nothing much will come from this interview, the result begins to make me slow down and be more calm.  I am already beginning to feel let down, and sad, and like I don’t have any talent.  I end up leaving the house without nervousness, but also, without hope and feeling like the world has rejected me.

By the time I am able to get back on to transit, and find my way home, I have vowed never to listen to the rumors and the too-good-to-be-true opportunities that apparently lurk everywhere, and that sometimes come right at you and seem to be tailored for you, in a specific manner of asking you directly.

I have learned, that opportunities are everywhere, but you have to be prepared to accept them in order to have them become the opportunity of a lifetime, that will change your life for having been prepared to go and take it.

So, now, the most valuable item that I have from that encounter, is a very clear memory of the painting on the coaster.  Paris is very clear to me, and the colors of evening and dusk make the memory beautiful, and I often strive, to recreate the feeling on that coaster.  I am forever in this space, of anticipation, and desire, and preparedness.  That moment of suspension, while waiting, for a big moment.