One empty room, three or four sets of eyes behind a table, and my nerve-ridden body standing precisely on the “X” that marks my spot—I will never forget the aura of an audition room. In the past 10 years of my life, I have stood on that “X” over 30 times auditioning for school musicals, commercials, short-films, choirs, and vocal competitions. I have spent my fair share of time in front the table, and three years ago, when I entered the world of college and career planning, I took a leap of faith that led me to my discover a new dream: to take a seat at that very audition table.

           I want to assure you that any air of confidence I may exude in the sentiment of a “leap” is unintentional. This was not an easy or reassuring change of pace. In fact, my decision to pursue a career outside of performance was one of the hardest decisions I have made in my 21 years of life. It felt as though all of my time spent focusing diligently on performing depended on this decision. And to be completely honest, I am still coming to terms with it every day. I am continually graveling in it, problematizing it, and discovering more delights and uncertainties in my pursuit of a new dream. At times I feel liberated. I feel freed from sticky labels that may have been placed on me throughout my life as a performer. At other times however, I feel scared as if I lost a part of who I am both to myself, and to my community. I have lived over half of my life pursuing one passion, and it is in that context that this decision has weighed so heavily on my conscience.

           In beginning to write this memoir, I attempted to locate my very first memory of singing. I realized quickly that I simply couldn’t. I was singing from the moment I was able to talk. Performing for other people was never a distinct decision for me because I naturally just did it. With no thought, or instruction, I would sing as loudly as I could everywhere I went, and for anyone I could force to listen.

           A few years ago my parents decided to convert our old home videos into DVDs, and during this process they began watching many of them. One of the videos my mother came across perfectly demonstrates what she had always told me about my attention-grabbing, and extremely loud personality as a young child. In the video, my mother was trying to film my older brother’s 8th birthday party; however I was making it impossible. I kept grabbing the lens, getting my face so close that I was almost kissing the camera, and all the while I was belting the ABC’s. I mean literally belting. Not only was I louder than the rest of the party combined, but I was singing, in a deep, growl-like voice a four-year-old girl should probably never be making. My fondness for being a performer never “started”, as it is something that is a part of me. Since finding this video, my mother loves telling this story as the moment she knew I would be a performer.

           Moments that I can actually recall of performing start in elementary school when I began singing in choirs and school assemblies. In 5th grade I started vocal lessons, where my teacher suggested I try musical theater. From then on, until the end of high school, I participated in a local musical theater youth group, and also high school theater guild. My love for acting began at the start of participating in theater, as it became a way to escape myself. I have been a racist blonde living in the 60’s as Amber in the show Hairspray. I have been a Puerto Rican immigrant, and survivor of sexual assault as Anita in West Side Story. And I have even been an orphaned child living in a world where you had to pay to pee in the show Urinetown. Performing was a perfect pastime because it involved detaching myself from reality and exploring different identities. Sometimes I played hero, and others I got to play the bad guy. This was simply fascinating to me.

           This love of performing and trying on new identities in musical theater opened my eyes to my passion for creating. Sure, I was a nag for attention, and the loudest person I knew, but I was yet to realize that my passion went beyond that. So, as I began to develop and refine my musical theater talent, particularly my acting stills, I began to realize that it was not all about the attention, or joy of performing itself that excited me to be cast in new roles. It was something bigger.

           Playing a character doesn’t come from simply putting on some make-up, and reading a script. In fact, even referring to it as “playing” is unsettling to me, for it does not account for my personal contribution as an actor. I didn’t simply “put on” new personas laid out for me—I created them. I was able to find new ways of envisioning characters and relationships from some of the most classic, well-known musicals. It is exactly that opportunity that inspired me just as much as the act of performing itself. That is, the opportunity to make new discoveries in old material, and to make well established characters your own. My love for performing blossomed, but simultaneously my love for simply creating art with my own mind that blossomed as well.

           Participating in high school theater was the first time in my life that I began to make sacrifices. It is weird to think about a time when you aren’t required to sacrifice anything, but as a young child I really wasn’t. I could do anything I wanted at no cost. In high school this changed. As school and life demands grew, I was forced to make sacrifices. I sacrificed playing soccer, which I had done my entire life, in order to pursue my newer, more rewarding passion of acting and singing. But, I also sacrificed being fully immersed in the theater program in order to have balance in my life.

           Unlike many of my peers, I never felt completely at home in theater guild. This is not to say that I felt rejected in any way, but I was more of a floater than a solid member. I actively pursued other clubs and friendships outside of theater. This drastically set me apart from the rest of the guild. I did not want to live, eat, breath, theater. I wanted to be in academic clubs, I wanted to stay up late losing my voice on the weekends at parties and football games. With theater guild having no ‘off-season’, I could not be a full member and have these other experiences as well. In retrospect, this should have been a sign that I was not going to pursue performing as a career, however I did not make this connection yet. Balance was easy; I could float in and out of the theater program as much as I wanted, for whatever shows I was interested in, and keep friendships along the way. I was able to have my cake, and eat it too. Unfortunately, this could not last forever, and I realized this senior year.

           Senior year of high school is probably the weirdest time in a teenager’s life. Adults begin to turn to you expecting answers to questions such as “How would you describe yourself?” and “What do you want to do with your life?” Counselors, parents, and college admissions people…the list could go on. I never truly saw this moment coming, but I had to decide right then and there if I wanted to begin auditioning for musical theater programs, or take the traditional route of schooling. For many of my theater friends continuing in the arts was a given, but surprisingly it did not feel this way to me. My parents, teachers, and friends all expected that I would be a performer for life. It was barely discussed because it was assumed. After all, being the “singer” at Pioneer High School was my first and most recognized identity to almost everyone in the community. But senior year I began to want something more.

           In contemplating what to do, I kept going back to the one thing I knew about myself: I have never wanted to live, eat, breath performing arts. However, performing was the only thing I knew I was good at. Sure I had good grades, but high school was moderately easy, and fascinatingly boring. When people would ask me what my favorite subjects were in school, I would laugh. High school somehow found a way to make me completely indifferent to every subject. My only “passion” was singing and acting. That being said, having an extra-curricular passion in high school is nothing compared to the real deal. Committing to pursuing a Bachelor in Fine Arts would not allow for as much deviation, and I am not one for commitment. So, it was time to make a decision: continue the path I laid out for myself since I was six years old—or— embrace the unknown, and create a new path.

           The time I spent working to make this decision was lengthy. But, in scrutinizing every past experience in my life to make this choice, I realized that I had been neglecting that other side of this passion—my love for creating art. I began to realize that this could be done without stepping onto the stage at all. My first example of this was in 5th grade when I created a horror film at school. It was called “Open Up”, about a young girl who is left home alone and finds herself as the target for a serial child-killer. I never really realized how creepy it is that a little girl came up with that until writing about it now. It wasn’t just me however; the whole school got involved in the final stages of production. We wrote the script, shot the scenes, and edited it on iMovie all by ourselves. As weird as it may sound, people loved it. The movie got so much attention at our school that it influenced a group of us to start the YORK annual film festival, which is still in existence today at my small kindergarten through 8th grade school in Ann Arbor.

           With the exception of creating small short films, I didn’t work behind the scenes again until co-directing a show senior year of high school. Towards the end of the school year, just after finishing the final role I’d ever play as Anita in West Side Story, there was an opportunity to help direct for a program called Stud Pros, where students wrote, cast, directed, and produced their own one-act plays. I jumped at the opportunity. I got to cast the show, and work creatively with staging, sets, and props. Co-directing for Stud Pros was my first experience collaborating with writers, directors and producers to help bring a script to life—it was exhilarating.

           Stud Pros opened my eyes to the possibilities that lie in the entertainment industry, aside from performing. Casting Stud Pros was the most fascinating part for me. I loved working closely with the talent, putting different actors together to form meaningful relationships and bring the story to life. In reminiscing on this deeply, I realized it was something I could see myself doing for the rest of my life. In pursing new avenues, I knew I would sacrifice performing, but casting would allow me to keep my passion for creating. Although I may have initially done this through performing the characters, I would be able to engage in storytelling by choosing the characters to best make art come to life. It was in this sentiment of pursuing my passion for creation that I started to gain confidence in the idea of not pursuing performing as a career.

           For a person who doesn’t leave much to chance, nothing sounded more frightening than scrapping the script I had planned since childhood.  But, as intimidating as it was, the unrelenting feeling in my gut was simply overwhelming. And it told me to, for the first time in my calculated life, go off book…and so I did. I got into the University of Michigan, and began a life of an average liberal arts student.

           Making this decision came with a wave of different emotions. I was excited for a blank slate, for no longer being “that singer girl”, but just me. Whoever “me” was, I was to find out in college, whether as the “casting director” or something completely different. At the same time however, I was also very sad. I still loved performing and the praise it would bring me. I often worried that I would never find something I was as good at. After all, people value talent in fine arts more than they do talent in the more invisible, “learned” realms behind the scenes. With all of these various emotions, trying out new things was still a choice I wanted to see through. So, I took the leap of faith and deviated from one of my strongest identities as a “singer” to explore new sides of myself.

           College has been an amazing adventure so far. I started with general classes, trying out everything, however the classes I found the most joy in were often ones in which I explored media, and the entertainment industry. Most of these classes were in the Communications department. I had a strong feeling from the beginning of college that whatever major I chose would be one that afforded many career options. Once again, I am not one for commitment. With this, I decided to continue with Communications Studies, which has helped me to learn more and more about the side of the entertainment industry that isn’t in the spotlight.

           As junior, I am now beginning to think about life after college. In doing so, I have realized that my past I worried would become obsolete in my life, is still an essential part of who I am. I may not be a performer anymore, but I am still made up of the components of one. Performing gave me the ability to do so much more than simply sing and act on a stage. In addition to my experience in creative storytelling, performing developed my passion for being a leader, one that can handle fast-paced environments, as well as the attention and accountability that comes with leadership. Additionally, 10 years of stage performance has shaped me to thrive in high-stakes environments. I would always feel nervous before going on stage, however once I was up there, those nerves are what kept me focused and calculated in my every move. I have mastered the art of taking my nerves, and channeling it for success. This is a skill that can help in all aspects of professional life, and especially in the fast-paced, high-stakes world of Hollywood.

           And here I am, preparing for a new dream of working behind the scenes in the entertainment industry. With further research and time, I have developed an even greater fondness for the career of a casting director. While I may have pursued art creation in the form of performing different characters in the beginning of my life, that same creative spirit will continue to benefit me. In casting shows, and finding the perfect actors for the perfect roles, creativity and knowledge of performing is key to success. My experience as a performer has given me a skill-set uniquely beneficial to the field of casting.  I have the artistic perspective needed for contributing to creative projects as I have seen first-hand what is needed from the talent. Additionally, I am accustomed to reading and interpreting scripts, and my ability to relate to actors helps me make intuitive, yet strategic decisions.

           My exploration of the career options behind the scenes is still underway. I am continually questioning and re-working this dream, but I finally feel as if I am aiming towards a future that I truly identify with. This is a dream that allows me to hold on to my identity as a creative storyteller, a part of me that speaks so loudly to my self-conception. In this career field, I would be able to utilize all of the skills and experiences I have had from my academics in college, to those relevant to the industry from my life before college. The profession of casting would actually recognize my performance experience as a benefit rather than a muted point in my childhood. It is in that sentiment that I feel excited with my decision to turn away from performance. I know it will always be a part of who I am.

           The future of this dream is unpredictable. Making the decision to let go of performing is something I consistently think about. Every time I go to a university theater show, or an a cappella concert, I cannot help but to think about what life would be like if I pursued performing arts. But in these moments, I also feel an interesting sense of relief. Although performing never felt like an obligation, the notion of giving all of your life to it is essential to success as you progress in the field. Ultimately, I have chosen a path that allows me to keep some of my energies for myself, staying true to my need for a balanced life. Most importantly however, I have a true hunger to learn more about the complex world of the casting—a world where I hope to make an impact as I embark on my journey from the “X” in front of the audition table, to the casting chair behind it.