Filed under: college, Dreams, Events, music, My Day, My Explanations, Writing | Tags: $20, audition, audition day, best, boots, bright, cim, cleveland, cleveland institute of music, college, community, culture, emma, fredonia, french, gowanda, happy, karen, la boheme, learning, music, oh, ohio, payless, personality, sam, sam the accompanist, shoes, socks, su, syracuse, syracuse university, true, waste, william fay director of admissions, years
Kulas Hall, Cleveland Institute of Music
02/09/10 8:37 AM
I almost feel like I should put my shoes on. My spiffy shiny black $20 Payless heels would polish me right up; I have a niggling little feeling that the vivid aquamarine music note socks under plain grey flat-soled boots aren’t really doing the trick.
Oh dear. My mother’s next to me, seat on my left. Periodically she chuckles quietly to herself. Why? She’s “trying to pick out the gay ones.” Oh sweet dear Jesus God.
I’m not as nervous as I was for Syracuse, I’ve found. The quaking trembles I’d endured pre-arrival at SU aren’t poking at me here. But I am rigid. I can feel that much. Lack of hydration, lack of solid breakfast, and just the appropriate dash of nerves churn with the presence of propriety. my stomach’s sour from wrongfully mingling with all this gleaming high society. These are the serious kids. I can pretend I’m supposed to be here, and deep down I know that the education is right. I’d love the fine sheen of purpose that money and experience gives these prospective students.
I could act it. I’m a fine enough actress.
But my deepy-seated country roots are urging me, don’t. Stay you. For Gowanda.
Emma never auditioned here. She settled, after considering Ithaca. She settled for Fredonia, because it was what she wanted.
But if I settle, I want to settle because I’ve seen, experienced, felt the higher-up, the top notch, and chosen another route.
I don’t want to go to school here if it means no one’s friendly, or down to earth. Granted my mind with travel off in a tizzy over a beautiful French selection. I’ll drool over La Boheme, and swoon at the thought of learning from some of the best.
But I need to stay true to my home. I didn’t realize that was so crucial to me until I got here, and they weren’t even as marginally cheerful as they’d been at Syracuse. Forget that Sam the Accompanist said that I should be aiming higher. I’d rather be somewhere I’ll be happy than somewhere I’ll waste my best years learning, miserably.
So forget it. My boots are warm, fairly ugly and salt-stained. My socks are bright and wild.
They’re staying on, and so’s my personality. I’d like to be accepted here, maybe to entice a bidding war (as Karen would say, and also let me add a “yeah, right,” but I can hope). But if I’m not, I won’t cry. I felt immediately at ease at Syracuse. Everyone was pleasant from the get-go.
And maybe it’s my mood of the moment, but right now I’d rather make music with a bunch of incompetents than with a bunch of expensive stiffs.
Kick Drum Heart 