Saturday, the audition was fine. It really was. I mostly loved it, which is why the couple of questionable notes among dozens of other good ones really piss me off. I felt like I was really present in what I was doing, except that for some odd reason, I could feel my poor little knees shaking, and it seemed impossible that the panel didn't see it. I think what needs to happen is that I need to get a longer dress to cover these things up. But then, of course, once I did that, the shaking would begin in my hands instead, and there's no way to disguise hands.
Most of the time I leave an audition feeling energized, excited, like I've really done something good, and am ready to party. Other times, I leave thinking: "I put on a face full of make up, pantyhose, and curled my hair, printed out resumes and repertoire lists and warmed up and obsessed over my low notes and high notes and everything in between, to go in there and sing one aria? After which I am so exhausted from having given so much emotionally and psychologically in a six-minute aria for perfect strangers who reward me with not much more than a 'thank you' that all I can think about is pasta, wine and a nap?"
What is it called when you do the same thing over and over again and expect different results? Oh yeah, insanity.
Well, that was Saturday, and after the audition, we went to Macy's for the one day sale thingy, and ended up buying a crock pot, which is embarrassing to even admit, but fun none the less.
Sunday, things started to feel a little less weird, when an anthem I expected to go exceedingly horribly went well, and it was really a beautiful day outside, and Joe was all excited because of his Ravens, and I decided to try a new recipe, which I always get jazzed about.
Well, it turns out that the recipe neglected to mention something rather crucial like USE A NONSTICK PAN FOR THIS RECIPE OR YOU WILL CRASH AND BURN and I ended up with the first batch completely and indelibly sauteed to the bottom of the frying pan in a way that I you don't often see. Well, I think all my pent up emotions from the weekend kind of got taken out on that particular disaster of a frying pan situation. I started cussing and yelling, and Joe ran in the kitchen and took the pan out of my hands as I was probably about to throw the whole thing on the floor, wildly scraping at the contents with a metal utensil like a deranged person.
In other news, I am turning 30 in less than three weeks.