A couple weeks back, I shared that I was auditioning for the puppet-heavy musical Avenue Q. I talked about how I was nervous, but that I did what was necessary to feel as confident as I could in the room. Specifically, I brought my own puppet, did character voices, and exuded as much confidence as I could, despite feeling some nerves.

And here’s the fun followup: I got cast!

I was auditioning for two roles: Trekkie Monster, whose voice and physicality is clearly inspired by Cookie Monster, and Nicky, who is inspired by Ernie.

My role in this upcoming production of Avenue Q? Brian. Brian is one of three non-puppet characters in the show, and the only one traditionally played by a male-identifying actor. So to recap: I auditioned for a puppet-heavy show, brought my own puppet to the audition, used goofy Muppet-inspired voices, got called back… and was cast as a human.

When the director called me to tell me so, I responded enthusiastically that yes, indeed, I’d take the role. And I’m excited! (If you are too, grab your tickets.)

But of course, there was some sadness, too: I love puppets, I love this show, and I was really excited about the possibility of puppeteering onstage. Which, of course, I now won’t do.

On the flip side: I’m in the show with a great, fun role. I’m playing a 32-year-old, which to me means that clearly the production team thinks I look at least that young 🤣 — and who am I to argue?! And I’m playing an aspiring comedian who supports his friends and (spoiler alert) eventually becomes a consultant. In some ways, it’s the part I was born to play.

So of course I allowed myself to feel feelings, to be sad that I wouldn’t get to play with cool, professional-grade puppets on stage. But I also consciously encouraged myself to celebrate all the wins here: I was cast in a role that requires me to use my full, well, humanity, and I get to interact with a bunch of fun puppet characters, I help center the show’s reality, I get to sing some great songs (“It Sucks To Be,” “There Is Life Outside Your Apartment”), and to appear in a show I really love.

Essentially, I coached myself to do a fairly cliché thing: to look on the bright side. To find happiness by being satisfied with what I have.

I think many of us have an understandable instinct to believe that we are who we are, and that we allow ourselves to feel grumpy, sad, or disappointed when we don’t get the role, job, assignment, or other outcome we want. And I’m okay with feeling those negative feelings when something less-than-great happens. Finding the upside can be hard, and I’ve met folks who are willing to say, “nope, that’s not me, that’s not who I am.”

I think it’s all of us, though. By which I mean, I think — without being saccharine or phony or blind to the realities of life — that we’re all capable, with some effort as necessary, of finding those positives.

Let me emphasize, I was cast as a 32-year-old comedian. If I can’t find the joy in that, I’m broken.

The easy path is to feel disappointment and rely on time to heal those emotional wounds, to just wait until you’re less grumpy and move onto the next thing. The harder but more rewarding path is take time to honor that disappointment, but also do the work to find the good stuff, too.