BWW Blog: Emma Mueller - Let the Chips Fall Where They May

I sat on a bench by myself beside a winding staircase and several closed doors, where other 17-year-olds like me were pouring their hearts out in audition room. I smoothed my dark blue dress and twisted my perfectly curled hair in between my fingers anxiously. My right leg was crossed over my left, and my foot was tapping the air sporadically as if that would help ease the nerves. I looked at the clock and only 30 seconds had passed since I had last checked the time.

"Emma?" I heard a pleasant voice calling my name. I stood up and smoothed my dress again, a nervous smile plastered on my face. I met eyes with a nameless man with a brightly-lit iPad in hand, holding open a door on my left.

"Yes," I heard myself say as I self-consciously walked through the door. We probably shook hands before I stood before him and poured out emotions much more eloquently than I could in real life. The entire audition was a blur. The one thing that I still remember perfectly was that he did not look up from the bright screen once.

Every student that aspires to study at an acting school has to undergo the grueling application process - one that is longer than any ordinary academic application because it includes at least one round of auditions. Getting rejected from an artistic program creates lingering feelings of self-doubt and wonder of whether or not the risk of pursuing your passion is worth the fall.

Each of my auditions had their own contrasts. Somehow, the phrases, "this is a very selective program" and "there is a place for everyone here" became synonymous. Behind each smile that says "I want you to succeed today," is a subtle undertone of judgment and exclusivity. Even if it's unintentional, it's unavoidable. It's often said that time is a valuable thing, but I didn't know how true that was until I realized that 5 minutes that could change the course of my entire life. It's all so subjective, how can it be fair? I suppose that's how the real world works: you audition for a million and one roles just to get one. Anyone could do their absolute best, work for hours to perfect their monologues, want it so badly, and still be told that they're not even good enough to get better.

But somehow, the sound of my voice convinced the stone-faced man sitting in front of me that I was good enough to get better.

The prescreen rejections came in first - PACE University and the University of Michigan didn't even want to see me in person. But two rejections didn't faze me. I still had the rest of my auditions to go. Videos didn't do justice to anyone's performance anyway.

Then came audition season. While my friends were putting college decisions in the back of their minds, I was giving my weekends to make the trip into the city for all my auditions. Over the span of a month, I auditioned for NYU, CMU, UCLA, USC, and MMC. As March wound down, rejection after rejection came in. On March 31st, I got my acceptance into the USC School of Dramatic Arts as a BA, which meant that I got in on an interview - they didn't take my audition for the BFA program into account. While I was a little bit disappointed that I didn't get into the BFA program, I knew that I would still be satisfied doing what I loved in the California sun.

If my senior year of high school was a movie, this would be the plot twist.

It was April 1st and I was on vacation with my family, so I didn't have 24/7 access to wifi. Every few hours, I would walk over to a spot that had a decent connection and walk away after seeing that my inbox had no new mail. It was just after 5:00, when decisions were going to be mailed out, and I still didn't see anything in my inbox. Then, my mom told me to check my spam folder.

I went into this process not expecting anything. I was going to put myself out there and let the chips fall where they may, which in my mind was a small liberal arts college where I could double major in acting and whatever else I pleased. But sometimes even if seems like none of the chips will fall in the place you want them to, one of them does.

My chip had been hidden away in my spam folder for an hour and a half.

"On behalf of the admissions committee, it is my honor and privilege to share with you that you have been admitted to the Tisch School of the Arts at New York University."

I froze and read the email three times over before coming to my senses. I was convinced for at least a week afterward that someone had sent out acceptance letters by accident and that it was going to be all over the news that NYU had messed up. But that never happened.

Even though both of my parents went to NYU, I almost didn't apply there. Now I'll be attending in the fall. If someone had told me in September that I'd be going to the Tisch School of the Arts, I would not have believed them. Even though I wouldn't wish the college admissions process on anybody, it taught me a few invaluable lessons. Firstly, putting your chips out there never hurt anybody. Secondly, your chips will never fall the way that you expect them to. And most importantly, your chips will end up where they're supposed to be.

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