And where do I find myself right now (look around the room inquisitively, while pausing for dramatic effect) without applause.
Tonight I found myself where all performers do: Auditions. Were it not for my charming room mate Amanda, I would have bailed. Her powers of persuasion were far greater then my tongue's protesting words, and I went reluctantly, to my doom. Breathing deep breaths along the way. You would think with such horrid behavior I was the prima-donna at the Met, as opposed to the simple wanna-be institute chorus singer that I was aspiring to be. And as we drove the eternal (5 minute) drive my heart raced as my distaste towards Amanda only thickened.
I will admit that a sudden rush of happy thoughts and wonderfully joyous emotions filled me when I saw that the gate was closed to the institute...
Amanda announced that it wasn't.
We made our way to the dark, dreary, bottom floor of the building and all the while I kindly explained to my bosom friend that this was not the place for me. She uttered words of obnoxious protest and told me kindly that we could leave if I:
REALLY
TRULY
HONESTLY
GENUINELY
and SINCERELY believed that my best decision was to go, then we would and she would not say anything against my decision, and she would respect it. So my dearest readers I regret to say that despite all efforts, I stayed and waited until my name was called, and the door slammed behind me.
Now when I entered the room a bald, pompous, and rather delightful man sat suffocating his chair with a tie round his neck, and a grin that resembled Jack the Pumpkin King. To his right sat a man of short stature, and a thin frame, he too was smiling. The only faces that weren't lying to me upon arrival were that of the two girls that claimed the right of the thinner man. They held tired, college grins and I found it rather refreshing. I was asked the usual questions, such as where are you from? Do you like to sing? (to which wonder no I hate singing that is why I am here red faced, tired and quite frankly high from fear. I hate sing I go through this personal torture only to better myself in society, and make our world better for what Obama said best, Change) Then after the rather worthless introductions were made I was asked to sing, which might I remind you I sarcastically hate doing. Come Come Ye Saints was the weapon of their choosing and I sang the only way I knew how: screaming. OK, so I sang properly, stood up straight and sang as if it were my last song. When finished I was buried beneath lavish compliments and then asked to blend with an Alto, and after that a soprano. Which might I add went very, very well but I will remain humble.
To the amazement of my judges I performed flawlessly. Apparently it is NOT common for someone to memorize music so quickly. I was not amazed or even impressed by my so called skill, it was nothing new to me. However, the large man smiled an even larger grin then I believed possible for the human face and he began telling me of my vocal accomplishments. I smiled and felt my face redden with childish delight, he claimed that my audition went beyond that of the average student. My range was wide, and my voice strong, it had a certain sound to it that he claimed to have never heard before. However, what astonished him most was the emotion that I captured with not only my face but my voice, and how convincing I was of the message I was singing.
When all had finished their praise and compliments I left, knowing that I could not have done better. I do not know whether I earned my place in the choir, but I can be certain that I left my mark. I thanked Amanda for doing tricking me to stay without her, such a night could not have been possible. I had not only entertained my audience but rather captivated them. And though I could have been mistaken, I felt as if I had transfixed them, if only for a moment.
