Or should I say, “Dear Diary,”
I’m worried about a few things:
1. Work training coming to an end.
2. My Voice audition.
3. Where’s my water? Laughs out loud.
4. Where is my boss?
As I write this, I’m afraid of my entire audition being slammed because of blindness, and the producers making up assumptions. They could. Well, after all, they are fickle producers anyhow. My work training is about to come to an end in May 29, 2014. Gosh, what will that day be like? What will I say? What will I do? Will my coworkers throw a party for me? Will I be given a huge cake? Gosh, I deserve all that given I had been working so hard here. The building will be a missed place for me, and I’ll never forget things. I have the memory of a pachyderm, whatever that is. An elephant. I have friends like that.
As for the audition, one of my female coworkers suggested I might look cute in red or pink or a pale pink. I’ll try and get colors from the red family. That’s all I know. Then, … well, I am replacing an entire bag of laundry, undergarments mostly. Melaina, my caregiver, would’ve had to replace, and the church offered to pay me some money to replace all the laundry. Plus I have mismatching pajamas, torn up shirts, etc. I have clothes that don’t fit me, so I need to go and do some serious shopping. I’ll be nceling something tomorrow. I might just have to cancel group on Monday so I can deposit the check in the bank. I will have to do that. After all, I have to replace my clothes and bags and … well, someone will take clothes away from me because they think they can.
That is settled.
Now, … the audition. What will happen? Gosh, I’m a nervous wreck, but when I am singing in front of Blake, I’m fine. If it’s someone else, fine. If it’s my coworkers, fine also. So what if you add a country star in the mix? Uh oh. I don’t know. I simply do not know.
I was gonna audition with one song, but a zillion came to mind. I have a long list of songs I could sing a capella without words or music to back me up. Shoot, I could do something more. But I’m afraid the producers won’t take a blind person, not only that, but …
1. What about my prescriptions?
2. What about the doctor’s care?
3. What about the psychological care I will need? Will they see me as a liability? Musicians have the highest rate of brain illnesses of all the people I would know. Take a look at all the artists, country or otherwise, who ended up in places you don’t want to be: jail, rehab, and such. It does not add up.
4. What if my parents put a stop to my dreams? I’ll have to throw that out immediately. I’ll have to make sure lawyers and so on are on hand to keep my earnings with me and me only. That’s it.
6. What about my place? What if I don’t win? I might not get something out of it because of blindness, mental illness, and other problems. I’ve done all I could to pursue a dream that my mother would dare stop. She will never do that again. I hope she learns from saying that only Britney and Christina could make their dreams come true. I saw Britney Spears live in concert once when I was younger, and I noticed her voice was a lilty sort. She thanked us all for making her dreams come true. What? She didn’t deserve a dream like that. Look where she’s at now, with Rehab, a bad marriage, loss of custody of the kids, etc. Look where I should be, and look where Britney’s at right now. Christina has matured gracefully from being weird to being … well, a good mother to her son or two. The bad thing? She married an old producer guy. That happens … a lot. For me? I’ll marry my baby, and that’s Blake T. He needs me more than I need him. He needs love, not money. I’m not going to have fifteen kids like that weirdo Pilgrim dude did with this lady. I’m not stupid.
Well, Jessey, the boss, just arrived. So here I will be. No worries now.