Feeling: dispirited
Listening to: I have Rawhide stuck in my head. Sonofabitch.
Reading/Watching: Mrs. Dalloway

So, yeah, I didn't make the cut. They let me sing two lines, and stopped me. Probably because it was 2:30 and the poor judges had headaches from people screaming (both on and off key) all day long. Since I fell asleep at 2 this morning, only to wake to a 4:00 alarm and drive downtown in the dark, then wait in line for four hours before we got to sit down and wait six more, I know somewhat how they feel.

I actually didn't mind all that much. I befriended the sweetest couple in the seats next to me, this young black guy named Jerry who loved singing country songs, and his boyfriend of one year, an older white man who fussed and fretted over him, wanting him to rehearse his song over and over. When we went up in our group of four, Jerry and I were side by side, and I was encouraging him, we were hugging and happy and he got increasingly nervous as we approached the front of the line. He forgot some of his words. I was tired and came on too strong, not leaving any room to build. Afterward we walked off together, and I put my arm around his shoulders (he was about my width half over again, and perhaps four inches taller, so this took some effort), and we agreed that it was a good thing, because neither of us wanted to uproot our current contented lives to chase pop stardom.

I really wasn't bothered at all, until I got back to my car, took my phone off silent mode, and listened to no less than five happy, hopeful messages from my mom, my dad, mon coeur, Kamoriaha, and Lynne. And I thought about calling them all back and explaining how I didn't make it, and decided I really don't feel like it right now.

I should have just left after Bork sang. I wanted to run up and hug him when I saw him walking off, and in retrospect, it would have saved me an additional four hours of waiting, plus the $8.75 I spent on a gross hot dog and a bottle of water (since the stadium didn't allow us to bring in our own food, I had to leave my sack lunch outside).

But now, I have driven mon coeur to get his car back from the repair place (the cost to fix his transmission is eerily close to the cost of the X-box 360), my plans for the evening have been completely wiped out, and I have to figure out how to stay up until at least 9 p.m. so I won't wake up at 2 in the morning and be screwed for work tomorrow.

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