Singing for James Levine, who says that I sang passages clearly that no one ever sings clearly.
Tea with a girlfriend I never see, and catching up on the exciting things going on in her life.
Listening to the interlude in Ceremony of Carols, thisclose to the harpist.
I'm trying y'all. I'm trying to tell myself that there are people who didn't get a Sullivan award and there are people who don't have a great husband and a house and a dog and a church job where people love her. I'm trying to focus on the great season I had last year with wonderful colleagues. But it's really hard to do that when you go into an audition and you know that you kill and James Levine TELLS YOU that this is absolutely suited to you, and then you get the email. And you know that it's going to be a no, because if it were a yes they would have called. You know how the polite phrasing goes, you know that they will wish you will and tell you to reapply next year. Maybe. But after such a great audition and walking out of that room feeling like I had a really good fighting chance, having my wonderful church people ask how it was to sing for The Man and being wished well so many times, coming home to that email is a big punch in the gut.
It's six days till Christmas, and I just want to sit down and cry. I hate this time of year. And I hate that this time of year makes me feel like this. I should be smiling and decorating the tree with my husband instead of counting the rejection letters that all feel like a personal slight against all I've worked for. I'm furious and hurt and confused and if we weren't slated to receive a massive snowstorm, I'd take myself out for a run to clear my head. But we are, so I won't. Instead, I'll decorate the tree and try to find perspective. It's around here somewhere, I'm sure of it. Breathe in, breathe out. One day at a time.
