Scary Things

So, it's spring break, and things should be pretty good in Kiraland... but, there are two things I'm really freaked out about. #1- my music People who know me understand that my music means a LOT to me. Some may feel that my music means just a tad too much to me. And by "my music," I mean being involved in choir, a cappella, and, this isn't really music but whatever, drama. Over half my day is spent, and I enjoy feeling like I'm good at what I'm doing. Not many people have realized this about me, but I'm actually a very competitive person. I'm not involved in sports or anything, and I flat out refuse to even play card games with my cousins at family get-togethers, just because nothing irks me more than trying and trying and trying at something, throwing my everything into it, and not succeeding. And, in sports and card games, generally I wouldn't be described as "successful." That's why i avoid those kinds of activities-- I just get so aggravated when I'm not good at something that I desperately want to be good at, so I don't even put myself into the situation. It just makes me too ticked off at the world, and I don't really enjoy that sensation. That's part of the reason why I quit band and joined choir. I was last chair in band, and even though that was completely because I never practiced, I didn't like being less-than-impressive. So I joined choir, somewhere I felt talented, and I was good. Or, at least I thought so. Then, freshman year, I tried out for solos and such for choir, and I never got anything. Hey, it was okay, 'cuz I realized the reason why I wasn't getting solos was probably becuase I was up there violently trembling like a leaf and barely squeaking out anything resembling a tune, because I was so terrified of auditions. But, you know what? It was okay. Because I realiexed it was a problem I could solve, and once I solved this little road bump, I would get solos. I'm sorry, it may be conceited, but if I'm going to be completely honest, I enjoy being in the spotlight. It's the way I've always been; I can't help it. It's not so much having the need for people to compliment or like me as much as the rush a performer gets when she knows that she's right-- it's a wonderful feeling. Once you get a taste of it, it's kind of (extremely) addicting. So, I threw myself into forcing myself to stop becoming petrified at auditions. I made myself audition and perform at every possible concert and event I possibly could, to get me over my jitters. I feel like I've learned how to feel with my anxiety. Don't get me wrong-- I still get insanely nervous when I perform. I actually still shake, and I've learned that there's nothing I can do about it. But, I have learned how to ignore it, and hode the trembling. My voice doesn't crack when I'm performing, and I've learned how to hide or clench my fists a little so they don't shake. I feel like I've improved a TON since my freshman year. But, I'm still not getting solos. Which really really sucks. Like, once, twice, that's okay. I just don't fit the voice part. But out of EVERY SINGLE thing I have ever tried out for, I have only gotten solo twice. I'm a person with... shall we say, a healthy sense of pride, and it's humiliting to have innocents friends and familly and mom's customers ask me, "Oh, you're doing Fiddler on the Roof?" or "You're doing Charlotte's Web?" or "You're doing a medley of the Lion King?" "What part did you get?" And every. Single. Freaking. Time someone asks this, I have to reply, "Oh, y'no, Good 'ol Fork #7." or "Spectator #1. I can spectate so much better as Spectator #1 than Spectator #2." or "Potted plant #438." Or, even better, "Really? I'm nobody." And then you watch as thir well-wishing smiles dim and they change the subject, or even worse, they declare, "You should have gotten the lead." Hey, you know what? That would be really cool. But apparently all Kira A. Lange is capable of is grapevining in the back as Potted Plant #438. Sorry to disappoint you. Last week, I had an audition for the Lion King Medley we're doing for our May concert. It went as every single audition I've ever done went. Except this time, I actually felt really really good about it. I was asked to sing multiple times (usually meaning Spiess likes whatever you're doing). I got callbacks. I didn't pee myself when performing by myself during callbacks. I threw as much passion as I possibly could into that audition, and I got absolutely nothing. And it is extremely embarrassing. Because I'm always hanging out with the people who always get solos, so now i have to put up with their (sometimes fake) sympathy. Okay, I don't mean that. I'm happy that they got a solo... it's just... couldn't I pleas just get one teeny tiny one? That's all I'm asking for. I'm just wondering now... do I actually suck at singing? Does no one just want to tell me how badly I did and now I'm living with this idea that I'm good at singing? 'Cuz NOTHING is more annoying that a person who thinks she's good at singing and goes around humming to her self and plaguing humanity, when, in reality, she's complete and utter crap. And I'm so scared that's what I am. So I'm going to write an email to Spiess asking her her honest opinion. Which is terrifying, but maybe I can finally figure out why I keep failing. #2- My cousin recently brought up a blog post about one of my favorite artists, Luke Conard. Last year, he went through a (very public) breakup with his adorable girlfriend, Ingrid. YouTube exploded. Everyone freaked. I was really sad, 'cuz I loved them together. But a year later, one of Luke's old girlfriends actually came out and told the story of how he was horrible and abusive towards her. And then I read his side of the story. It was confusing. I'm pretty upset at him, and I unsubscribed from all his channels. But the whole thing reminded me of my dad. You've all probably heard the story of my dad. If you haven't, go read some of my older posts. I explained it a while ago, I'm not explaining it again. It's midnight, and I have to get up early tomorrow. So, anyways, I recently learned that my mom has been looking up stuff on my dad, and, turns out, he didn't tell her everything that when ton. I don't know exactly what she read, since she didn't want to tell me herself. I found this out at my last counseling sesh. Yes, I see a shrink. My life is fairly messed up. Plus, this shrink is the most adorable old dude in the history of ever. I also found out that I may be able to talk to my dad for the first time in 6 years in a few weeks. 6 years. I haven't talked to him for slightly less than half of my lifetime. Isn't that insane? Could you imagine not talking to your dad for that long, and then, all of a sudden, you might get to talk to him again. What am I supposed to say? The last time I talked to him, he was freaking out cuz I had just gotten my first period when I was visiting him, and I hid it from him, cuz I was really scared, and he kept going on about how I was a young lady now. Now I'm about to get my drivers license. How much more of a young lady am I now? (Sadly, probably not much. I'm still basically 4 inside). Still, He's been absent for most of my life. He doesn't have any clue about any of my best friends, or teachers, or my music issues, or even the fact that I have a dog. What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to do? Oh, and on top of that, don't forget that I'll be still processing the facts on his CRIMINAL RECORD. Och. My life is complete.... Chaos sometimes. I guess that's the reason God invented chocolate and mac 'n cheese.