During a lazy Friday afternoon, I heard the distinctive screech of the mailman’s truck outside my house. “It’s finally here,” I said to myself. I rushed out onto my front porch, leaving the front door wide open as I darted toward my mailbox. And there it was, a solitary letter with the return address listed as “Southern Methodist University – Department of Theater.”
Earlier that year, I went to the International Thespian Festival held at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. At the convention, I, while ineffably sick, auditioned for an audience of college recruiters. Toward the end, I saw a good number of universities on my callback list; SMU was one of them.
After chatting with the representatives from SMU’s Theater Department, I decided to give it another shot. I thought the audition went great. I hit every note in my song–a character piece entitled “I Am Aldolpho” from “The Drowsy Chaperone.”
After taking a few notes from the directors, I adapted my monologues from The Goat and Columbinus to be exactly what they were looking for. Or so I thought.
I held the envelope in my hand, standing alone in my living room while my mom diligently typed out emails in the room next to me. “I must’ve gotten in the school,” I figured. I excitedly liberated the piece of paper from its envelope and allowed my ravenous eyes to feast upon the words on the page. Then, tragedy struck. After a few seconds of scanning, I found the word “regretfully.” “This must be a mistake,” I pondered, while frantically re-reading it a couple more times to ensure the accuracy of my assumption. I was right; I didn’t get in. If I were to go to SMU, it would not be as a theater major.
Undeniably, this was a huge blow to my ego. When so many people laud you for talent in a particular area, the sting of well-timed rejection becomes unbearable. “So… now what?” I wondered. It was time for a major change in direction.
So, I did just that: I changed my major. From theater to financial consulting, specifically. Some ask me, “Why such a drastic change?” The answer is that it’s really not so drastic.
The performance is still there; only the stage is different.
I love to communicate. Whether in professional or artistic scenarios, I relish presentation. So, I figured, why not choose a career that allows me to keep doing what I love? The skills that I honed on-stage will emerge in both contexts; the only difference is that those listening might be in a boardroom instead of an auditorium.
Does this mean that I’ll never perform in a play in the future? On the contrary! No one knows exactly what the future holds. If the situation arises, and the time seems right, I will likely give the audition process another try. Though I may take a slightly different route professionally, I expect to arrive at the same destination: no matter what I do, I will be passionate about it.
In essence, if a dream doesn’t necessarily work out the way you had previously expected, don’t give up hope entirely.
Find what you’re good at, and what you love doing. Then, refine those skills as much as you can. You might find that work can be your passion after all.
Andrew Pinkowitz is a sophomore majoring in financial consulting and Spanish with a minor in communication studies. He can be reached for comment at [email protected]
