My short story, "A. Mississippiensis" made the lit magazine at my University. Je suis heureux!
My french is terrible.
I recently auditioned for the reality t.v. show, America's Next Top Model. I had to do so in a small open call, set in Albany NY, because it would have been impossible for me to attend any other call. Apparently, Top Model producers penalize you for not flying out to a big city to audition, and decide not to tell you on the spot if you have been cut or not from casting. I heard that if I had made it, somebody would have secretly told me to stick around for another round of casting, but seeing as that didn't happen (not to me, or the 100 + girls that went before me,) I think I can safely assume that I will not be making an appearance on television any time soon.
I think that the biggest problem with my audition was my wooden response to the stock question, "why do you want to be America's Next Top Model?" Well, intern wearing a CW t-shirt, I don't have a sob-story to tell, which makes my chances of making this reality show dangerously low. I wanted to say that I was a recovering drug addict, or that I was clinically insane, but instead the generic question floored me and all I could choke out was that I was "unique," and that "I wanted this more than any other girl," and other unoriginal phrases that surely pushed me off the list of secretive call back contenders. Even if I had given a good reason--that I had been made fun of to the extreme as a child, to the point where my high school counselor enrolled me in friend-building peer sessions without my consent--it's not a sad enough tale to sway the mind of melodramatic Tyra Banks. I wanted to say that I would be a spokesperson for abused women, but because I've never been abused myself (physically, at least. I am an emotional abuse "survivor,") that would never fly.
I'm a bit aggravated. I know I would be great on that show, and even though it would jeopardize the possibility of having a respectable career in the future, I really wanted to be on it. It's not April 1 yet -- I believe that is the last possible day I will hear from any CW producer. They haven't had their LA open call yet, so I don't know if they've picked out all their girls from semi finals. Hopefully my giant red hair will win the heart of a casting director and I'll get a phone call in the next few days, but I'm not holding my breath. I curse flat responses and an average life for my poor audition. For once I would like to see a girl like me. . . no, wait, a girl that IS me, on ANTM.