Feeling: ridiculous
Listening to: the pixel-wife playing its background music
Reading/Watching: Ella Enchanted

I so totally should not be online right now. I have to get up in the morning, and I have to sing, and I have to get a decent night's rest beforehand in order for both of these things to be possible.

Of course, a decent night's rest is eight hours, and in order for that to happen, I would have had to go to sleep at 8 p.m.

Because, you see, I am crazy and stupid, and I am waking up at four o' clock in the morning to shower, dress, pack a lunch, and go wait in line to sing for the American Idol auditions.

And why? I promised my parents, specifically my dad. I told him, if I am not working at ALL on Friday, if I have time to go downtown and pick up the wristband, if I don't have any other plans for later that evening, if, if, if. Then, once all those conditions are met, I will go. I promise. Because you think I am destined for superstardom, and surely this is my ticket.

I did not ask off from work. I did not tell my friends we couldn't make plans on Friday. I did not have to cancel anything in order to make it downtown. It just all sort of... happened naturally.

And now I need to be downtown, with a lunch and some sunscreen and a folding chair (and probably two or three good books), by 5 a.m. tomorrow to get in line to sing for judges who will most likely tell me "You don't have the right voice for a pop singer, it's too classical." Which is probably why I make money singing classical music, not Britney Spears.

But I promised. My friends, co-workers, and family are all excited to hear about how tomorrow goes, and all confident that I'll make an impression. And I don't want to back out when people like Bork are counting on me to show so that they have someone to talk to during the long, tiresome day of waiting.

Plus, some ridiculous part of me is still hoping about this much that I am wrong and everyone else is right.

So I have to wake up in three and a half hours, and I am not remotely tired. Fuck me.

Comments? 1 so far...
Not a Diaryland member? Sign the Guestbook.