[ 04-26-03 ] [ 2:26 p.m.]
[ I don't even get Saturdays off ]

It's been a pretty fucked up day so far.

Lawrence was Lawrence. Like it is every year, it was chock full of snooty wanna-be stars, door monitors that don't know what the fuck they're doing and who the hell they're talking to, judges who seem to know everything until you realize that they can't play piano worth a shit.

Just in case you hadn't already guessed, I fucking hate Lawrence.

I made sure to mention this to my mother, who gave me a very reproving look. I had to literally claw my way into my audition, because they were about to disallow my audition because they thought I wasn't the Heather that appeared on the sheet. I said to the door monitor that my name was Heather, and she, being a Chinese immigrant who probably knows two words of English, walked over to the schedule and marked off some Aaron kid off as being here. I tried to explain to her her error, but she kept waving her hand and saying that she knew I was here. When it'd been five minutes since the next person, the judge came out to ask where the next person was, and I explained who I was and that the door monitor had messed up. So the judge looked at the schedule sheet and said "well, it doesn't say that Heather's here yet."

I was about to kill the guy, seriously. When I finally got it through his thick head that I am Heather and the door monitor messed up, he started laughing and told me that my audition got off to a "real good start."

So then, my anger made me totally fuck up Schumann's "Italian Sailor's Song". He asked me if I was nervous, and I said no, I was upset with them almost disallowing my audition. Then he got kind of sniffy and said that it wasn't his fault. I wasn't going to fight with him because then he could've disallowed my time, so I just went into Joplin's "The Entertainer" and nailed that son of a bitch. Except for one rythym I messed up once, it was the best performance of that song I ever did. The judge obviously wanted to point out that I was inferior to him, so he tried to explain to me the rhythm that I messed up, but he couldn't play it right either. As soon as I got out of the audition hall, I started cracking up.

The guy was a total idiot. And he looked like Bob Saget.

Well, after the lovely charade at Lawrence, I came home to my report card. It's not very pretty at all. A D in Geometry, a B in Astronomy, an A- in Choir, and a B in History. My mom was all flipping out and now whether or not I get to sleep over at Carol's rests greatly on what time I decide to get off the computer. If I'm not off by 3, I can't go.

I guess maybe I should hurry up.

On a positive note, though, my throat is incredibly sore, so much so that it hurts to talk. I woke up with it feeling like raw meat, and, while it doesn't sound like a good thing, I'm almost ecstatic. In my family, the telltale sign of the flu is a sore throat. I really hope to God I'm sick.

Because I'm so sick of school that I can't even tell you.

I can't fucking wait for summer.

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