I spent the early part of this week feeling my heart race whenever my phone rang as I waited to hear from Georgia Shakespeare regarding a summer internship.  Even if the call was from a recognized number, I still found ways of rationalizing that it might be GA Shakes.  "Well, maybe they were travelling through rural Minnesota when their car broke down on a seldom-used country road and they hiked all the way down to near the end of a weird side road passing several other houses on their way and wound up at my parents’ house and asked to use the phone and called me right after they called a tow truck.  Yeah.  So this is totally not my parents calling.  It’s Georgia Shakes!"

As always happens when I’m waiting for an important phone call, my phone rang an inordinate amount of times, making my heart hammer wildly every time.  Apparently telemarketers got hold of my cell phone number for two days early this week, too, making the torment even more hellish.  "Hello?!  YES, this is Amy!  What?  WHAT?!  No, I don’t want another credit card and I hope the devil eats your family’s souls and takes a shit in your mouth."

Then, about Wednesday, I checked my email and found a brief, yet terribly polite email saying that I was not selected to intern with the company this summer.  And, you know what?  I was really Okay with their decision.  I like the company, I have nothing bad to say about them or the audition process and I don’t feel badly about myself because I know I did a good job.  How do I know?  They said so in the audition.  Plus, this frees me up for so many other opportunities I will likely never have again.

I will go back to Maine and be part of Improv Acadia again, which is the single greatest delight I can think of for the summer.  Every time I go there, I come away refreshed and enriched by my experience.  I do, also, come away with about ten pounds of lobster weight, but that’s a small price to pay.

I will also be able to travel to two conferences that Augusto Boal will be attending, which means that if I can scrounge up enough money, I will get to take workshops from a Nobel Peace Prize nominee during his last trip to the United States (or so he has said).  One of these conferences, it just so happens, is in Denver, so I can also spend some quality time with two friends I have not seen in years.  I can also have some decent Mexican food for the first time in nearly ten years...

So maybe God closed a door, but he opened up a pretty big set of French windows.  And I’m really quite OK with that.