I’ve got a show tonight, internet, and I’m ready to go.
Here are my pre-show thoughts:
When I’m putting makeup on I feel like:
Even though by the end of the night I’ll look like:
Making sure I know what the lyrics are… 20 minutes before a gig:
When there’s a long instrumental bit and I try to be like:
When I mess up onstage I feel like everyone’s just like:
But then I nail a section like:
And then my friends are just sitting there like:
(Okay, more like this):
But by the end of a good show everyone’s just like:
I am sick and miserable today, y’all.
And I am going to succumb to being a sick miserable person, because I just worked a 10 hour shift at jobs.
Read this instead and pretend I wrote it today.
Okay, wow, I just read that post and now I feel like a lazy jerk for not writing a full post today.
Jeez, past self, way to be motivating.
Here are some current events and how I feel about them.
Captain Apollo and I are FINALLY starting to record our EP tomorrow. The EP is going to be titled Solidarity and we’ve been talking about it for a really long time now and it’s on my bucket list of things I really want to accomplish in my life which I wrote about yesterday.
(Side note – Captain Apollo is one of like five human beings that read my blog religiously, and today told me he told it was adorable that I had recording a CD on my Career Bucket List and that he was happy to help me fulfill that particular point. At this time I’d like to further reiterate the point that it is not adorable, it is ambitious and career savvy and badass.)
At any rate, I have mixed emotions about this actually happening, now that it’s actually happening tomorrow. Most of those feelings are probably anxiety based, like fear and nausea and panic, akin to what I felt the first time I sang an original out loud in front of real actual people. There is also a fair amount of raw excitement happening, which will likely become more apparent once the actual singing part is over.
I do this thing where the first couple of times I encounter a new scenario, I am confused and anxious and I generally hate it, but then I end up loving that thing. Like the first time I did yoga. Or the first time I toured my alma mater and actually left the tour because I hated it. Or the time that brussel sprouts somehow became my favorite vegetable.
But I digress from the point.
Was there a point?
News update – there was not.
Anyways, one of these days I’m hoping I’m just going to walk up to the mic full of confidence and just crush a set with no anxiety at all, like my idol, Fat Amy.
It has been quite the gangstery weekend down here in Canada. Yesterday the Fam Damily and I watched Stand Up Guys with Al Pacino and Christopher Walken in it, which by the way, was an excellent movie, and today, Gran and Mamère and I went down to Niagara-on-the-Lake to see Guys and Dolls at the Shaw Theatre.
Wow, look at me name droppin’ like it ain’t no thang. Swag.
Now, you probably don’t know this, internet, but I was quite the little actress back in my day. I have, in fact, been in two plays.
The first, I was ten years old and it was a production of Really Rosie. I was in the chorus as the letter G and I had to sing the line “G Getting Giggles and also do some elaborate oooing and mime laughing and or having a seizure, which was a lot to process for me at the time. I was not a coordinated child.
The second time, I was twelve and I was a Hot Box Doll in Guys and Dolls, which is why this story is semi-relevant. You can bet your mama’s marinara sauce I was the best Hot Box Doll that my elementary school has ever seen and will ever see again.
However, my extraordinary skill at doodle-oodle-doodling attracted the attention of the “lead” hot box doll (Not Adelaide, mind you. Just another hot box girl.). This girl, whom we shall refer to as Boomer because she’s probably a Cylon, is my ex-best friend, and this is the story of our first major argument.
Now, out of some contrived righteousness of some sort on Boomer’s part, she determined that the Hot Box Dolls must have different outfits according to their roles in the play. Namely, that the Hot Box Girls with speaking parts got to wear a red bandana and the ones without had to wear blue for our performance of “A Bushel and a Peck”.
Like this, but y’know. Less stripping.
Now, this was utter malarky, because I was the ONLY Hot Box Doll without a speaking part. However, Boomer only got to say “Oh, Adelaide, you’re such a lucky gal!” whereas I got to steal TWO pocket watches and a wallet. So you tell me who had the more compelling part.
Anyways, we got into a gigantic kerfuffle about the whole thing, because Adelaide and I thought that having just one Hot Box Doll without a red bandana looked sloppy, and Boomer was persistent that it was a necessity, and quite honestly, if our dear principal hadn’t stepped in, Adelaide and her Farmerettes might not have performed at all.
And guess what, dear readers. BOOMER DID NOT PREVAIL.
Good DOES triumph over evil after all.