FUBAR!

My remorse is washing over me this morning. I'm a musician. First and foremost, above all else, I am a musician. I've been playing piano since before I can remember; I was the first pianist hired by Walt Disney World; I've been singing in a choir since I was eight years old; I have played accordian, organ, clarinet, oboe, guitar and banjo; I'm the only person on Facebook who is one degree of separation from Nadia Boulanger. I Am Music.

To suffer a humiliation as great as last night's debacle is extremely painful.

From the day Tyler and Jaci told me they were moving back to Youngstown until the day I received the job offer from Virtual Hold, I felt sad. Every day of every week I felt sadness cloaking me like a heavy cloud. I felt I would burst into tears if anyone looked cross-eyed at me. Since arriving in Youngstown, I have felt content and fulfilled. I don't necessarily feel happy, giddy, elated. But I am content. Complete.

Today I feel that cloak of sadness again. I wanted this badly. It was a goal I passionately wanted to achieve. Forget the miles. Forget the hours. Forget the inconvenience. I wanted to be able to say, "I sing with the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus." And now I just want to sit and cry.

Damn my aging body—my overused nervous system—for sabotaging this audition. (Oh, by the way, at least I didn't have a hot flash while I was standing there trying to sing. Hey, maybe that's the solution to hot flashes. Have a nervous breakdown and you'll be so busy trying to cope with your nerves that your thermostat will behave.)

Y'know, it really can't get much worse than what happened to me last night. I should just go take the Ohio Bar Exam now. I'd be sure to pass!