I lay in my room staring up at the blank ceiling.  My alarm screamed obscenities at me for the third time that morning, and I debated hitting snooze and letting it attack me one more time.  Today was going to be just like any other day.  I would shower, get dressed, do my hair and make-up, and I would pack my lunch for the day.  Today was a pizza veggie burger with mayo, mustard, sweet relish and jalapenos, triscuits, a spinach-leaf salad with walnuts and dried cranberries, and a strawberry yogurt for dessert.  It was no surprise that lunch was the most interesting part of my work-day.

Today was going to be like any other day, but the worst part of it was that it was supposed to be different today.  I was supposed to be starting classes at Julliard today.  I should have been awake much too early, packing my bag and taking way too many pencils with me, ready to start my first day as a Graduate student.  I should have been warming up my vocal chords on my way to class, even though I wouldn’t have a voice lesson until midway through the day.

But alas, here I was, laying in bed alone in Ferndale, trying to convince my legs that it really was time to get up and out of bed.  Christopher had been in New York for the last two months, living out his dream in a small but beautiful Manhattan one-bedroom apartment.  I was stuck here and by no one’s fault but my own.  Too afraid of failure, I never even auditioned for a Master of Music program anywhere, much less at Julliard.

To be continued…