Riches to Rags

I think I was supposed to be in college, but since I never went it's hard to know what that looks like. The little brunette in black was my room-mate and we were both trying out for the new jazz ensemble. They are going to the studio in a couple of months and their music is rich, mellow and complex. Now she had a voice that would rumble and rock a room. I'm still not sure what I sound like but I have a lot of technical stuff she doesn't have a clue about.

We are waiting for the tryouts and while the dream doesn't quite fill in all the details, I'm terrified.

Her tryout is dynamite. Rocked the house. Mine? I sight read an opera and couldn't remember any other songs. On a positive "note" I hit every single arpeggio with lyrical beauty, but, in a jazz environment it's not about clear runs, it's about slightly smudged improvisation.

I woke up disoriented and feeling shaky. I hate trying out for anything. I lack that true confidence where you don't care who is watching, you are convinced and you run with whatever you're doing.

Have you ever had an experience where your confidence is shattered? Even if you don't possess much, what little you do have now hangs in tatters. Confidence is a funny little animal and difficult to maintain at a proper and reasonable level. One must suspend disbelief to choose to exist in a world that is their "friend" at all times. That's fantasy. One must also do their best to not over-think life and therefore become paranoid! That's delusion. Paranoia presupposes everyone around you has nothing better to do than talk or scheme directly about yourself. Ego much? The truth lies somewhere in the squishy center.

My life and my dream have often resulted in situations very much the same. A tryout where I sang the wrong songs and couldn't remember the right ones. A burning desire to be a part but somehow making all the wrong moves.

Someday, maybe, I'll make sense of it all and figure out which step comes next. For now? I'll just keep walking. One step at a time.