Or I could just join lighting crew.

On my way home yesterday, I stopped in at Bonder's to pick up a gift certificate, as requested by my mother. The lady behind the cash seemed to have a difficult time finding the certificates. She rummaged around the desk for a good something minutes before calling over another guy so that they could rummage together. They seemed to be in agreement that "she," whoever "she" is or was, had placed the items in a blue folder, but the blue folder in question was proving difficult to locate.

As I stood there, my mind (as is its custom) drifted along various pathways of thought, before settling on the fact that there seems to be a lot of our grade in the Honour Band. Now, this in itself is not a troublesome thought, but it invariably leads to one that is -- my Honour Band audition. Fortunately, the pair found the certificates (they were in a black folder) before I had the time to remember that and, after listening to the lady mutter about what "she" was going to do to her, I headed home.

The audition was, quite simply, extremely bad. I didn't know my audition was going to be on the first day, so I had left the clarinet I had actually been playing for weeks at home; my reed was too old; I completely blanked in the first line of music. I really, really, really hate sight reading under pressure...it always gets me at the McGill piano exams too.

I seem to have quite a streak going, and I would really like to break it. I have blown every audition granted to me. For Bardolators it didn't matter so much because I can't act anyway. For Chicago it didn't matter so much because I can't sing anyway. I actually cared about the band audition, and I'm never going to forget screwing up on it.

Especially not if I screw up again this year. Which I won't. Which I can't.