So as you've most likely figured out already, I am a band kid. I play percussion, and I am WAY too competitive and strive to be the best, always. My competitiveness has not always earned me a top spot (I was second in this year's District band, so close!), but it has helped me to be motivated to improve. In this case, second chair qualified me to audition for All-States band, which was a huge and terrifying honor that I was not prepared for.
The evening after our All-District concert, I stayed up until midnight (despite being exhausted) in order to download my states audition music as soon as it was available. Finally, after waiting for an extra 45 minutes, the music was posted. I clicked on the percussion link, and I waited for my Adobe Reader to open the document....
When the page opened, my jaw dropped. It didn't even look like music. It was like somebody had sneezed dots and lines and dynamic markings on a sheet of paper. I almost gave up right then and there. I was supposed to switch between snare drum, triangle, timpani, tambourine, and 3-mallet xylophone. The notes were cramped together, the tempo was obscenely fast, and the time signature went from 5/4 to 6/4 to 5/4 to 9/8 to 12/8. I had no idea how to even approach a piece of music that difficult. But I am stupidly competitive, so I decided I had to try anyway.
For the rest of the month of February, I skipped lunch to practice in the band room. I practiced from when I got home from theater rehearsals until my parents told me they needed sleep too, and then I'd cram in homework. My grades dropped, I didn't see my friends, and many blisters and callouses found new homes on my hands. I took lessons from a certain percussionist who I can never thank enough, I bought new mallets, and I was basically miserable for an entire month. That was a month of having meltdowns in the drum closet, and hiding there because I didn't want to return to class after a particularly brutal practice session. Yes, the same drum closet I wrote about here. Despite being disgusting, I love that closet.We've cleaned it over and over again, and we recently acquired a door for it. That closet is like a second home for me, where only percussionists are allowed and where we've always gone to escape from the rest of the band. The secrets concealed in the ceiling and under the shelves have been there for years, and I plan to leave my own before I leave. The closet is a place for private talks, mental breaks, and chill-and-forget-about-what-people-think-of-you time.
The week before the audition was the worst week of my life, there's no doubt. Even though I'd worked so hard and exhausted myself, I was still not prepared for my audition. Nerves were getting the best of me, and it effected my performance in all of my classes. I was irritable, depressed, and hopeless. I was afraid to fail after putting so much time, energy, and money into preparing. Friday night, I just cried. It was all I could do. It was too late to prepare any more. My percussionist friend and my student teacher encouraged me and told me how to stay calm and told me they were proud, and it was so touching. But it made me that much more nervous, because I didn't want to let them down and have wasted their time as well.
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