Glee

I should have picked freakin' Phil Collins. It's not like any of us actually sound good, singing a cappella into a computer microphone, heard over computer speakers, but I should have gone with the sweet and sensible "True Colors" over the Rolling Stones song that was also on the list... but didn't realize that until day-of when I'd been practicing in front of Sasha for a while, her furry brow arching as I relate my story of interest and rejection, though ultimate assuagement. Meh, I'm only doing this for fun anyway.

I'm sitting like a putz in my neon yellow biking jersey in front of the webcam recording an audition tape for "Glee", FOX's latest hit show, half-musical, half-high school, but not a high school musical. "I've been singing since I was [make the size of a fetus with my hands]" I tell the camera, as to why I should be on "Glee", before I bust out my unaccompanied version of "You Can't Always Get What You Want" while sitting in my chair within the frame of the webcam. It's one of those songs that sounds better with a full band, Mick Jagger punctuating the phrases like someone is testing his rock-hard abs by punching him in the stomach. Come to think of it, I don't know if he has rock-hard abs or not, but it used to be in the performance of his songs he progressively took clothes off, both of which I cannot do (or probably shouldn't do for a high school show), while backed by Keith Richards' unstoppable guitar.

Suffice to say, I bring the noise, but I don't think I bring the funk, and that's alright. I figure, why not? I'll be headed to Decatur, Texas on the July 1st call time, if I made it past the first round, with no possibility to get away, besides, I've got my future at Duke at least somewhat set for the next three years. The audition is overly big anyway, a gigantic public thing that they advertise on myspace and TV and imdb.com and all sorts of places, and performers are advocating for themselves, telling their friends and internet acquaintances to vote for them on this massive venture. I have other things to do. People have thousands of "Gold Stars"; I have three.

But it ain't about the Gold Stars, or being on the show. Too often in my life I have let opportunities slide by, oftentimes right in front of my face, that I do not claim because of fear; the well-meant, but often poorly-discerned reason of others; a culture where most of us suppress our individuality to be a part of the status quo; and a thousand other paralyses that prevent us from taking that step into courage that connects us so deeply to who God made us to be. So, the audition is an easy one to do--online instead of heading to New York or something--and very well within my power; I can't possibly make the call date, but who knows, if something happened, maybe we could work something out; maybe if I do this, I will feel more confident in future auditions... if, if, if... if I don't move on, I still get the experience, if I do nothing, I get absolutely nothing. The worst that they can tell me is no, right?

Besides, they need triple-threats, those who can sing, act, and dance, which probably doesn't make it my cup of tea. If only it were sing, act, and cycle, or sing, dance, and enjoy doing basic algebra or offer constructive criticism on the script, but nope, it's sing, act, and dance. I'm not despairing; actually, I'm thrilled. This year has been about taking steps out in faith, and trusting God for the courage to do so. Coffers are filling for Bike & Build because of so many incredible donors, housing is falling into place at Duke, Ryan and I survived Europe, and I hope to make this stepping out in faith, this slow strengthening of courage, a pattern in my life. Instead of reasoning how unlikely it was for me to get on the show, I reasoned, "I simply want to do this," so I told the reason-you-out-of-it world to put a sock in it, and bam! I auditioned. It's done. A part of my testimony. A fun, totally random story that I can lay claim to to surprise my kids in between my stories of dinosaurs and existential theologians and adventures after college.

Besides, even if I can't catch Idina Menzel when she performs a concert here in Jacksonville, I can always cycle by Metropolitan Park, where she's practicing during the heat of the day, the Jacksonville Symphony Orchestra all strings and fullness behind her. She's in jeans, and I feel for her, as does the family from Tampa that has come up for their twelve-or-so-years-old daughter's birthday just to see this. It's not like a concert--I mean, she starts "No Day but Today" from Rent and then stops to say, "Hey, can we do that in D-flat?"--but hey, it's Idina Menzel. I keep hoping someone will notice us through the chain link and say, "Hey, you guys are stalwart fans, why don't you come in out of the sun?" Who knows? It could happen. It doesn't, but it could.

The daughter knows everything about the star of Wicked, from her solo stuff to the duet she will sing with Lea Michelle on an upcoming episode of "Glee" and etceteras. It's like when I stopped by the Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian premiere in DC, thinking maybe something would happen, maybe something wouldn't, but setting out nonetheless, now able to say that I've seen Ben Stiller, Christine Taylor, Hank Azaria, Amy Adams, Ricky Gervais... everyone except Owen Wilson, and Robin Williams was especially cool after having open-heart surgery, when everyone else just walks up the red carpet, he slides from fan to fan, shaking hands and taking pictures, giving everyone a joke, including the Mexican woman I was standing with, who spoke no English, but with whom he posed for a picture nonetheless, with some sort of energy that, if it comes from himself, comes nonetheless from a deep inner joy.