As May 20 nears the corner and my bittersweet feelings about leaving the place I have known as home for the past four years surface, I have come to the realization that I have absolutely no idea which direction my life will take me after graduation.
Now, as I think about my rapidly changing career choices — from actress to photographer to psychologist, and now aspiring fashion journalist — I realize the job market for any of these is not very promising. Had I made the choice to enter the corporate-yuppy business world and enroll in the School of Management or play with robots and chemicals as an engineer, I might be looking at quite a different salary and would not have to worry about possibly living in a box off of Harvard Avenue after graduation. Alas, let’s face facts and. . . welcome to The Real World, baby!
Let me explain. Last week, in a frazzled state about my future, I was handed a press release that I was told was perfect for me – “The Real World Season 20 tryouts are coming to Boston this Saturday!!”
Fabulous, I thought, this could be my big break into fame. But then I started to have doubts. Nah, I thought, there would be no possible way Jonathan Murray would pick me to live in an amazing house with six strangers and have my life videotaped.
Well, I am certainly unique enough — I’m frequently told by people that they have never met anyone quite like me before. Who else regularly utters the words “fabulous,” “to die for,” “smashing,” “divine” and constantly flips their hand with emotion when speaking to others? I certainly do have some wild and crazy stories to tell of my college years as well. This could possibly be the answer to the big black cloud looming around me called “Chloe’s jobless future.”
After reading the press release closer, I noticed this season is unique. Bunim and Murray Productions is seeking out young individuals who have aspiring career goals they want to pursue in a major cosmopolitan city – just like me. The release also highlighted that actors, models, dancers, artists, stylists and fashion designers should apply. Me, again!
When the day of the tryouts rolled around and of course, I was throwing outfit choices around my apartment at the last minute. Was I supposed to dress fun or professional? Eh . . . let’s combine both into one, as I do with most things in my life. After making my choice, which was somehow supposed to “wow” casting directors and convince them to pick me as the resident fashionista in the house, I embarked on my journey to fame via the T to the tryouts at Ned Devine’s Pub in Faneuil Hall.
I was led up the spiraling staircase of Quincy Market and greeted by a young twenty-something MTV employee who handed me a two-page application and told me to wait in line through a set of glass doors.
Behind the doors were thousands of tattooed, pink-tip-haired, combat boot-wearing young unknowns hoping to be the next big thing. After waiting in line for two hours and filling out the application — which asked me an array of provoking questions from my most embarrassing moment to my worst traits and the most unusual thing about myself – I began to imagine myself on the show. I thought of all the ridiculous stories that I would reveal in the confession room.
Hours later, I was ushered into a room behind a mysterious red velvet curtain with ten potential television breakout stars like myself. We were asked to sit around in circle on the leather chairs. The curly-haired, trendy casting director looked around at the googly eyed applicants and told each of us we would have thirty seconds to a minute to convince him why we are unique and why would be good for the show. Drumroll . . . the moment of truth was approaching.
The first boy, whom I must say was a rather attractive Abercrombie-clad student who attends Holy Cross in Worcester (my hometown), was first. Ohhhh, my interest was looming, only to be killed the second he uttered, “I’m gay.” He continued on to describe himself as in the closet and the brother of an identical twin, with whom he was going to travel to find his biological mother this summer. My chances were quickly evaporating before my eyes.
Next was a girl who described herself as a benefit to “The Real World” because of her mediating skills. However, she failed to “wow” Damon, the casting director.
I was unsure of how to make myself standout from this crowd. I chose to go the route of the magazine journalist career girl who gets along well with others and has a rebellious side.
I quickly realized that I had no chance of competing with the people who followed me. One guy who revealed that when he looked in the mirror, he sees himself as a woman, and he will be taking pills to become one in the near future. Then there was a tattooed guy who recently made his girlfriend cry in a road-rage incident. Let’s not forget the sheltered girl from a small Massachusetts school who claimed to have never spoken to a black person before.
We were asked to wait outside, and after Damon looked over our applications, he called a select few back with a few follow-up questions. Otherwise, if he was interested, he told us we would get a call back within 24 hours or we would never hear from him again.
I walked away from the experience knowing that I would not get a call back, but smiling because I guess being too mainstream is not that bad after all. My future may be cloudy, but the unknown is filled with excitement, and I’m no longer afraid to hit the real world, sans pink tips.
Chloe Gotsis is a senior in the College of Communication and is an Assistant City Editor.
