So the moment has finally arrived: Tomorrow is my final guitar class (of this session, anyway; I may sign on for the next level), and I have to sing and play my little song. This scares the crap out of me, as I’ve had awful stage fright since I was in my teens. I was actually part of a musical theater group when I was a child, and I loved it. Of course, I was all made up, in costume, and drowned out by an orchestra and a dozen other singers–to me, it was just a fancy-dress party. I couldn’t even see the audience beyond the stage lights. [Aside: My stage debut was, however, marred by a disgusting case of pink-eye that I contracted from the communal eye makeup during dress rehearsals. In the opening-night pictures, I look like I’ve been beaten up.] Tomorrow, it’s just my hesitant, imperfect playing backing up my hesitant, imperfect voice in a small, well-lit room where I can see my classmates’ eyes. So, after tonight’s jog, it’s another good hour-plus of final cramming practice. Let’s hope I don’t disgrace myself tomorrow.

Update (10:15 PM): Maybe it’s time to stop practicing; my cats have started singing along with me. My neighbors, if they can hear me, must think I’m insane. Not to mention a terrible singer.

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