In omnia paratus.

Today, I auditioned for The Voice.  My sister (god bless her) got up with me at 4am and went with me to the 7am call in Memphis.

My knitting needles got confiscated, because clearly I was a threat.

No callback for me, but then again, not even the chick who nailed “Barracuda” (seriously?  that’s a fucking hard song to sing) got a callback.  It was nice to be in a room this time where two people got a callback, so I could see how it happened and what they did.  I wasn’t a Carrie Underwood clone nor an 18 year old yodeler.  C’est la vie.

It’s all good.  I’m proud that I did it and thought I performed well.  However, the timing obviously isn’t right.  And maybe the gig just isn’t right. The world seems to be opening up to me in ways I never let myself dream about so I refuse to let this one rejection get to me.

On Monday, I have my last knitting class and I’m joining the Y.  Booyah.


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